Doctor at Sea

companions.
    ‘Ché, un cigarillo por favor.’
    A slim brunette with incandescent eyes and teeth stood in front of me.
    ‘I beg your pardon?’
    ‘Oh, don’t you speak Spanish? I only want a cigarette.’
    I handed her one from my own tin.
    ‘Thanks. You work in the meat-works too, do you?’
    I was hurt. The Lotus may have been a rusting old-fashioned tramp, but that night I was proud of her.
    ‘Not a bit. I’m one of the officers.’
    ‘What of this old tub? You look too respectable. Why aren’t you dressed up?’
    ‘I am the doctor,’ I explained stiffly.
    Her eyes instantly shone brighter.’ Well, what do you know? I get the most crippling pain in my back.’
    I saw at once that I had committed a social error. During my spell as a general practitioner I had learned that members of the public meeting a doctor socially believe they can entertain him only by briskly trotting out an account of their illnesses. When introduced to the bank manager they do not immediately start talking about their overdrafts, and on shaking hands with the local J.P. they are not compelled to discuss the number of times they have been summonsed. But they firmly hold the idea that the doctor can be diverted for half-hours at a time by details of their symptoms, or even those of faraway relatives and dead acquaintances.
    ‘It sort of catches me round here,’ she continued, twining her arm behind her and pushing her sharp bosom forward. ’Whenever I twist round suddenly - Ouch! See what I mean? I’ve been to doctors all over the world - London, Paris, New York, here in B.A. They never did me a bit of good, though. I still had my pain. Sometimes I woke up in the night and screamed.’
    ‘Very distressing for you, I’m sure.’
    ‘Oh, I began to lose faith in doctors. You don’t mind my saying so, do you?’
    ‘Not a bit. Have a Fire Alarm.’
    ‘What is it?’
    ‘It’s a drink. Very good for backache.’
    She giggled. ’Well, then I went to an osteopath in Wimpole Street - he was sweet. He told me I had a displaced spine. What do you think? He slipped it back again, like shutting a door. There!’
    ‘I think that ...’
    ‘I only used to get it after that when it rained. Why do you think that was? And then I was playing tennis out at the Hurlingham Club last month, when Bingo! I ...’
    ‘May I introduce you to our Third Officer?’ I interrupted. ’You will find him very charming.’
    For the past few seconds Trail had been staring at my companion with his mouth open. He jumped at my remark so much he spilt his drink on the deck; then he stepped forward with the expression of a hungry deckhand going in for his Sunday dinner.
    ‘Mr Trail,’ I said,’ Miss ...?’
    ‘Ella Robinson.’
    ‘Mr Trail is our most popular officer,’ I whispered to her. ’The Captain thinks highly of him. But if I may speak as a shipmate, he is a little shy and needs encouragement. Enjoying the dance, Three-o?’
    ‘Have another drink,’ Trail said thickly.
    ‘I think he’s cute,’ Miss Robinson decided, flashing him a swift glance of appraisal. I had been treating his spots since we left Santos, and in his clean white jacket and painstakingly Brylcreemed hair he looked as presentable as an Ian Hay subby.
    ‘Har!’ Trail said. ‘How about a dance?’
    ‘Mmm! I’ve never danced with a sailor before! Be a sweetie and hold my glass, Doctor.’
    Grinning weakly, Trail drew her on to the chalked square of deck and began dancing with the spirit that nightly won him hearts in Reese’s dance hall in Liverpool. I contentedly took another Fire Alarm from Easter and leant back on my ventilator. After the night at the Saratoga anyone so pressingly feminine as Miss Robinson was too much for me.
    When the music stopped the couple came back to my corner of the deck. Both of them were flushed and breathless.
    ‘You’re a swell dancer,’ Miss Robinson said to Trail, giving him a hot glance of admiration.
    ‘Am I really?’ he asked eagerly. ’Go on!’
    ‘Yes, I mean it. Not like most Englishmen out here. When I dance with you I sure know I’m dancing.’
    ‘Have another Fire Alarm,’ I said, signalling to Easter.
    ‘Do you dance, Doctor?’ she asked.
    ‘Definitely no. I come from a family with very strong views on the subject.’
    ‘How amusing! Do you know, my pain’s coming back. Look!’ She turned round. ’Run your hand down my spine. That’s right - just there! Ooo! Exquisitely painful! What do you think I ought