Doctor at Sea

patient took it to the chemist, who deciphered my writing and slickly made up the medicine. We had been obliged to attend a course of lectures on pharmacy and dispensing in medical school, but these were always held on a Saturday morning, when most of the students were already on their way to the rugger field. For this reason there was an informal roster among the class to forge the signatures of their companions on the attendance sheet, before slipping softly away themselves when the lecturer turned to clarify some obscure pharmacological point on the blackboard. As I had attended the greater number of my pharmacy lectures by proxy in this way, I now felt like a new wife in her first kitchen.
    I picked up one or two bottles hopefully, and I was delighted to find that my predecessor, Dr Flowerday, had his pharmacy lectures on Saturday mornings also. On the back of each bottle was a small label bearing in shaky handwriting guidance such as’ Good for diarrhoea’, or’ This mixed with Tinct. Ipecac, seems all right for colds’, or’ Apparently inert’. There was also a sheet of cardboard on which Dr Flowerday had written in Portuguese, Spanish, French, and Hindustani translations of three questions which he seemed to find adequate for investigating his patients:’ Have you a cough?’
    ‘Where is the pain?’ and’ Have you been with any dirty women recently?’
    I found an old pair of pharmacist’s scales and a glass graduated in drachms, and started to make up the Captain’s medicine. The first one turned into a pink putty, and was abandoned (it later came in useful for minor infections of the crew’s feet). The second tasted strongly of peppermint but seemed adequate. I corked it and carried it up to the Captain’s cabin.
    I had not met Captain Hogg before. He had been ashore the previous night and he never came down for breakfast. When I had asked Hornbeam about him he replied unconvincingly,’ He has his good points.’
    ‘What are they?’ Trail asked gloomily.
    I inquired what form Captain Hogg’s malignity took.
    ‘Oh, he thinks the sun shines out of his bottom,’ Trail said. ‘They all get like that. It’s living alone too much that does it. They ought to be made to carry their wives with them to keep them under control.’
    ‘The Old Man isn’t married,’ Hornbeam told him.
    ‘Neither was his father,’ Trail said.
    I knocked on the cabin door.
    ‘Enter!’
    I went in.
    Captain Hogg was of a curious shape. He was like a huge pear. From the sharp top of his bald head he came out gradually until the region of the umbilicus, from which point he spread abruptly in all directions. He was sitting in an armchair in his shirt-sleeves, his face obscured by the book he was reading. It was a periodical called True Horrors , on the front of which a vivid blonde with an alarming bosom was struggling unsuccessfully with a gorilla, a man in a black mask, and her underclothes.
    The book didn’t move. I stood just inside the door, holding the medicine bottle in front of me like a talisman. He spoke:
    ‘Well?’
    I rubbed my right shoe slowly up my left calf.
    ‘Doctor, sir,’ I said.
    The magazine came down. For a moment we stared at each other with interest. I thought he looked as friendly as a firing-squad.
    ‘Ah!’ he said.
    I proffered the bottle.
    ‘Your stomach mixture, sir.’
    Either my prescribing or Dr Flowerday’s directions were at fault; perhaps the ship’s drugs had degenerated with time. Some unplanned reaction occurred within the bottle. With a sharp pop the cork flew into the air.
    ‘You may find this a little strong,’ I said, picking up the cork quickly.’ I recommend taking it well diluted.’ He took the bottle silently and stood it on the desk beside him.
    ‘Your cap,’ he said. ‘You have a cap?’
    ‘Yes, sir.Company’s regulation pattern.’
    ‘Why aren’t you wearing it?’
    ‘I’m sorry sir, I -’
    ‘The cap is worn on all official visits to the Captain. If I were asking you up here for a peg, that would be different. But I’m not. It’s a matter of etiquette. There’s no tramp ship stuff about this vessel. This is my ship, you understand, Doctor? My ship. If we get that straight we shall rub along splendidly together.’
    ‘Yes, sir.’
    I was a medical student again, before the Dean for filling the senior surgeon’s rubber operating boots with iced water.
    ‘Good. You haven’t been to sea before?’
    ‘No, sir.’
    ‘You’ll find the