Ship's Surgeon

by Celine Conway

  There came the report of a rifle on the after-deck and he said, “They’re shooting clay pigeons. Like to see it?” Deeming it wiser to part from him before Kristin emerged from her cabin, Pat said, “Thanks, but I think I’ll go below for a rest before tea.”

  He sauntered away. Pat looked in upon Deva, found her asleep and made one of her usual signs to Mrs. Lai, who sat nodding over a lapful of fine sewing. The woman seemed endlessly engaged with making the sari-cotton nightgowns that Deva wore.

  In her own cabin Pat switched on the fan, took off her dress and sat down to begin a letter to the boys. But she wasn’t in the mood for writing, and there was plenty of time before the next port of call. So she leaned back in the chair, picked up the novel which Avis had left behind her on deck and idly leafed through it. And that was when she found the envelope. It slipped on to her lap, a thick white one with the ship’s monogram on the unsealed flap. There was no name on it, and Pat thought it likely that Avis had used it as a bookmark till, almost without volition, she lifted the flap and saw the small italicized writing just under it. Sudden hope, as well as fear, sent her pulses racing.

  She read: “Library at three-thirty. Imperative.” Pat’s first reaction was one of relief. Pat Fenley wasn’t the only one who had been selected to receive a cryptic message. Avis Markman had been getting them too, and apparently they frightened her far more than they had frightened Pat. That would account for the woman’s look of exhaustion, even perhaps for the fact that Avis had spent two days in hospital; there, she would have felt safe.

  Library at three-thirty; Pat looked at her watch. It was after that now, twenty-five minutes to four in fact, and the message might have been written yesterday or last week. Still, Avis had left that book on the table for a purpose; she had wanted Pat either to return it to her cabin or to read the few words and speak to her about them. In private, of course. She hadn’t confided in anyone yet.

  But why had she picked on Pat Fenley? Because she wasn’t in quite the same category as the other passengers? Because, being connected with the medical profession, she would be bound to follow a code of ethics and be able to keep a secret? Because Pat had once mentioned anonymous letters? Probably. But why hadn’t Avis confided in Bill? Or had she confided in him and been smiled at for her fears?

  Pat found herself slipping on a green and white check dress, tidying her hair. The writing on the envelope looked fairly fresh, and it was possible that those few words were the cause of a renewed deadly worry within Avis. Those words might not refer to this afternoon ... but they might. If Pat went up quickly to the library she might learn something about this perpetrator of rather cruel jokes.

  She grabbed up the book and went swiftly from the cabin up the staircase to the lounge deck and along to the long, book lined cabin which was opened for public use between eleven and one and between four and six. The window, she noticed, was curtained, as it usually was when the library was closed, but, after a hesitant moment and a swift look up and down the deck to see if she were being watched, Pat pressed down the little steel handle. The door yielded and she slipped into the darkness, closing the door behind her.

  “Lock it!” said Avis’s voice. “Please lock it at once!”

  Automatically, Pat slipped the bolt along. She saw Avis standing beyond the window with her back pressed against the glass door of a bookcase, but it was too dark to read her expression and her voice merely sounded slightly hysterical.

  “Are you still waiting?” she asked in a whisper, though whispering wasn’t necessary. “It’s a quarter to four.”

  “I ... I thought you weren’t coming, that you hadn’t found the envelope,” said Avis, in the shaky, high-pitched tones. “The book was the only thing I could think of—leaving it where you’d find it. Then afterwards I was sure you’d never open it. It’s not your kind of book, is it? You’re a deep one, and you wouldn’t read...”

  “Calm down,” said Pat, though it cost her an effort to keep calm herself. This was certainly her eeriest experience of the voyage; the darkness, a near-hysterical woman, and the feeling that at any moment the library steward would try to open the bolted door. “I was going to bring the book to your cabin.”

  “We couldn’t talk there. If you’re ever in the state I’ve been in lately and need to talk to someone without being interrupted or overheard, you’ll find there’s almost no private place on a ship. This was all I could think of. I took the key from the purser’s key-board.”

  “But they’ll notice it’s missing!”

  “Not for some time. The library steward has his own key; if he finds he can’t get in he’ll go to the purser’s office and we can slide out while he’s gone and drop the key somewhere obvious.”

  Pat gave an incredulous little laugh. “Your planning is rather comic, but it has its points. Why are you so concerned about that envelope? I’ve had a couple of them myself. I’ll admit they made me feel uneasy, but I ignored them and the joker got tired. There just happens to be someone aboard with a grisly sense of humour, that’s all.”

  Avis was silent a moment. Then she said, in scarcely controlled tones, “You don’t get it. That envelope in the book was for you, not for me. I can’t tell you more than that.”

  “But what on earth...” Pat broke off, thought dazedly for a second or two. “Are you telling me that you had to deliver that message to me? Then ... then you know what it’s all about?”

  “No!” Avis drew an audible breath before saying, “I can’t bear to keep it to myself any longer, but I daren’t say much. I’m too frightened. I wanted to warn you to be careful. Just ... be careful.”

  “Careful of what? Tell me that, at least.”

  “I just don’t know,” Avis almost wailed. “If I’d known this could happen I’d never have sailed on the Walhara. I thought I was going to be happy, I even thought it was fated that I should meet a man like Bill Norton. I was a nurse for a year, you know, and he might have married me in Australia and taken me with him to Fiji. But he’s leaving the ship earlier and going straight to Suva, and I’ll have no one...”

  “Is that why you brought me here—to listen to your woes?”

  “No. I hardly know what I’m doing, or saying.”

  Pat thought quickly. “We haven’t time to talk here. Will you come to my cabin?”

  “No ... no, I can’t do that!”

  “Then speak quickly, and say it now.”

  There was a sound from Avis’s throat as she swallowed. “Will you promise that you’ll never tell a single soul that this business has any connection with me?”

  “Yes, I promise. You can trust me.”

  “I know—or I wouldn’t be here with you now. Will you also promise not to go to anyone about it—the purser, or anyone at all? If you take care yourself it may be enough. I must have your promise that you’ll say nothing to any person on board before I can tell you a thing.”

  “It sounds ridiculous—as if I’m being threatened in some way!”

  “You are,” said Avis weakly. “I’m just not capable of standing this kind of thing. Please promise you’ll speak to no one about it. I’m begging you.”

  Perhaps Pat still thought it all a trifle silly and melodramatic. At any rate she said tolerantly, “I promise. I won’t say a word to anyone. Why do I have to be particularly careful?”

  A momentary hesitation, and then Avis spoke quickly, throwing out words as if it were a tremendous relief. “You don’t mix with the passengers as I do. There’s a couple on board who live by their wits. They heard that I’m a dress-designer and they led me into showing them that I’m a pretty artistic writer. Then they ... they promised me money if I’d write those letters.”

  “You! Good heavens.”

  “You can’t think worse of me than I think of myself. It was quite big money they offered, and I’m always in debt for clothes. I didn’t think there was anything crooked about it—not at first. After I’d realized what they were up to it was too late—I was implicated.�
�� She paused. “They, like everyone else, thought that Deva Wadia had a jewel-box with her.”

  “Jewel-box?” Pat echoed the words, staring at the other girl. They were quite close to each other now. “You mean the jewels that were mentioned in the paper some weeks ago, when Deva was over the worst of the operation, and liked wearing them? They were sent back to Ceylon secretly, by air.”

  “No one knew that—it was thought they might have been deposited with the purser. These people were after them; they wanted them easily, if possible, and that’s why they offered you five hundred pounds to co-operate.”

  “Good lord. They must be lunatics!”

  “They’re audacious—their type is bound to be. Can you imagine how they felt when they discovered the girl had nothing of real value on board? They’d paid a whacking fare, for nothing at all. So ... so I think they’re bound to cook up something else.” She was suddenly sharp and offhand. “That’s all. I’ve warned you, and I have to go now. I’ll go first, and you give me a few minutes and then turn left as you leave this place. I can’t be connected with you.”

  “But you can’t leave things in the air like this,” exclaimed Pat. “You’ve made a terribly serious charge against someone...”

  “And you’ve promised to keep it dark—don’t forget that.” Avis, now she had acted according to her warped sense of honour, had become firm and even belligerent. “There are no jewels to steal, so you don’t have to worry about them. In case these people think up something else ... well, I’ve warned you, haven’t I? I’m out of it now.”

  “I think you should tell me who they are, and you certainly can’t expect me to remain silent if there’s any threat to my patient—promise or no promise.”

  “You’d better—or you may be dealt with first, and then where will she be? These people ... you don’t know them, but they’re ruthless; I’ve been so scared I’ve hardly dared to leave my cabin. If you’re quiet about it, and sensible...”

  A key was suddenly thrust into the door lock and turned. It twisted backwards and forwards several times while the two girls stood, tense and palpitating, near the bookshelves. Then, apparently, the steward went away. Avis moved swiftly across the library, lifted an edge of the heavy curtaining. Without a word, she shot back the bolt, opened the door and went out, pulling it shut behind her. Pat didn’t wait five minutes, nor even two. She listened carefully, and then departed as Avis had done, too anxious and mixed up in her thoughts to wonder what the steward would think when he returned to find the library unlocked and the key on the table where Avis had left it.

  Almost involuntarily, she went straight to Deva’s stateroom. The girl was out of bed, sitting in the wheelchair with a tea-tray at her side. And Bill was there, standing with his hands in his pockets and resting on Pat that keen metallic blue stare.

  Deva gave a little laugh. “Pattie, I’m so glad you came. Another cup, Lallie. Doctor Bill, Pattie, please sit down.”

  Pat sank into one of the armchairs and Bill sat down on the end of Mrs. Lai’s bed. There was an awkward moment while Mrs. Lai arranged a fourth cup on the tray and Deva poured from a pretty pink china teapot into matching cups. It was odd how adult Deva could be at times; in many situations she had the aplomb of a twenty-year-old. She signed to Mrs. Lai to hand the cups and the dish of fancies. The woman performed the duty, then took her own cup and two cakes and retired to a stool in the far corner of the stateroom.

  Deva said, “You didn’t know I had invited the doctor for tea today, did you, Pattie? I knew you would come in while he was here, so I did not ask you specially. I am glad you are early, though. I have hoped for a long time that we would have tea together—we three.”

  “I didn’t really come for tea,” Pat said. “Just looked in to see how you were. The doctor will probably allow you on deck tomorrow. The atmosphere now is like Ceylon’s, I dare say.”

  “I think so. It feels very good.” She looked pointedly at Bill. “Are you cross with Pattie, Doctor?”

  “Not particularly,” said Bill.

  “Just generally cross?”

  “No. I was wondering why she took two lumps of sugar. I’ve seen her take one lump or a slice of lemon, but never two of either.”

  “I’m growing absent-minded,” Pat commented. “I didn’t notice myself.”

  “Thinking a lot?” he asked casually.

  She glanced at him, and away again. In white uniform he looked big and dependable sitting forward there on the high bed, but he also looked withdrawn, as if he didn’t really want anyone else’s problems. He had about three weeks to go before Fremantle, and after that he’d wing away to Suva in the Fijis. His own life and its problems had suddenly become urgent.

  She shrugged. “Karachi, Bombay, Ceylon; that’s all there is now. That’s what I was thinking about.”

  “At Bombay,” said Deva, with a sparkling smile, “I could go ashore to see friends, but the doctor will not allow that, I suppose. I am almost well now, am I not, Doctor Bill?”

  “You’re pretty good. When you leave the ship at Colombo I’ll take you ashore myself.”

  “Not in a chair!”

  “Certainly not in a chair. I’ll take you on my arm like a princess.”

  Deva let out a happy sigh. “You are so tall you will make me look very small, but I don’t care. I shall miss you, Doctor.”

  “I’ll miss you, too., I suppose you’ll have a private tutor to finish your schooling?”

  “I am old now, I shall read with my father and teach the younger brother a little. When I am stronger I shall train for social work. I have cousins who do such work even after they are married. We are modern now, in Ceylon.”

  Pat said little. She watched the two of them conversing; it was strange that two human beings so totally different in age, outlook and background should get along so well together. Bill kidded Deva, was rewarded with a flash of wit and a merry smile. For Deva, there were no complexities. Bill was her friendly doctor who had the sense to let her act her age—which was rather older than her fifteen years. She looked a child, behaved as a woman.

  They finished tea and Mrs. Lai took away the tray. Bill stood up and said he had a couple of reports to write up. He touched Deva’s glossy black hair.

  “Thanks for the tea and talk, Miss Wadia. It was most enjoyable.”

  “It gave me the greatest pleasure, Dr. Norton,” Deva returned demurely.

  Pat let him go, answered his nod from the door with a nod as brief.

  “You’re really all right, Deva?” she asked. “Nothing you’d rather tell me than the doctor?”

  Deva shook her head, but not positively. Then she lifted her tiny shoulders. “There is this ... feeling, that is all. I think it is because we are nearer now to Colombo than to England.”

  The nightmare had happened closer to England, but Pat did not remind the girl of it. She smiled. “You’re probably right. You’ve been away from home a long time and you feel unsettled. But stay relaxed if you can, and if you’re worried about the least thing you must tell me.”

  “Yes, of course I will.”

  “Would you like to stay up a while longer?”

  “Please.”

  “I’ll come back in half an hour.” Pat caught Mrs. Lai’s eye and indicated that she wanted to speak to her outside. “Here’s a magazine, Deva. Mrs. Lai will get you the new ones which came on board at Aden.”

  She paused outside in the corridor and was joined by the unsmiling Sinhalese woman. “Mrs. Lai, you must keep the door locked always while you’re out of the room, and even while you are in it if you’re resting. You still lock the door overnight, don’t you?”

  “I do as I am told, Miss Fenley,” said the dignified Mrs. Lai.

  “I know you do, but we’ve only nine days or so to go, and I’d hate anything to go wrong at this stage. Deva’s done so well.”

  “I would protect her with my life.”

  “Lock the door always. Say nothing to her, but do it. She’s a very preciou
s burden, Mrs. Lai, and I want her parents to see her as she is now, or even better. Whenever you need a break let me know, and I’ll take over. Don’t ask the stewardess, as you have been doing. Ask me.”

  “Very well, Miss Fenley.”

  “I’ll send those magazines along. Thank you, Mrs. Lai.”

  After the woman had re-entered the stateroom, Pat spoke to the stewardess about the magazines. Then she went along the wide corridor towards the staircase. At the end of it, Bill was talking to the first officer, but as he saw her he excused himself and joined her. Without speaking he walked at her side down the staircase, but when they reached B Deck he nodded downwards again. “Come to the surgery,” he said.

  “What have I got to lose?” she said lightly. “Are you going to bawl me out?”

  “Is there any reason why I should?”

  “I’ve had the impression, lately, that you wouldn’t want to talk to me for any other reason. Sorry I butted in on your tea with Deva.”

  “You weren’t unwelcome.”

  “Sounds negative, and that’s not like you.”

  By now they had reached the surgery and he had waved her in. He closed the door and got out cigarettes. When she shook her head he said, “Go on, take one. I’ve something to ask you and we may as well try being matey for a change.” He flicked his lighter and held it to her cigarette. “You’re not looking your best, Patsy. Feel liverish?”

  “Thanks for the romantic approach. As far as I know my liver was never in better condition.”

  He gave a hard grin, lighted his own cigarette and slipped the fighter back into his pocket. “To get to the point. There was a message waiting for me at Aden from a very old friend of mine who’s now in Karachi. As you may know, we arrive there at dawn and don’t leave till the following morning. I have an invitation to dine with this man and his wife, and to bring along a friend of the prettier sex. The ship will be linked to the land by telephone, so Sister Edwards can quickly get me if it’s necessary. Actually, it’s unlikely to be necessary in port. Like to go along?”