“Ah, yes. I thought there would be plenty of scope for me here,” replied the other doctor with a satisfied nod. “It’s my special interest, you know. I’ve been working at a hospital for tropical diseases for some years but I felt I would make better progress out here.”
“Well, it’s a nice idea,” said Mark, “but I don’t think you’ll find much time for research at Ngombe. I certainly haven’t.”
“I shall make time,” stated Dr. Mastingley shortly. “That is why I came here. I applied to the Mission Society to be sent to a West African Station in order to be able to study my subject at first hand.” He looked at Katherine. “Will you have another drink, Nurse? No? What about you, Charlton? Another whisky? Excuse me a minute. The waiter seems to have disappeared.”
While he went in search of the waiter, Mark and Katherine looked at each other. Mark was frowning. “I didn’t expect a Boffin,” he whispered. “I suppose the Society knew what they were doing when they selected him for the job but...”
“I expect his ideas will change when he starts work,” said Katherine hopefully.
Mark looked doubtful. “I’m not so sure.”
After a meal Katherine went to her room, leaving the two doctors talking in the lounge.
On the journey back to Ngombe the newly arrived doctor did most of the talking, elaborating on his plans. He had brought several large cases of equipment and intended to start building a laboratory as soon as possible.
When they were back at Ngombe, Mark took Dr. Mastingley straight off to show him the hospital, and after their tour they went into the office. They lit their pipes and leaned back in their chairs. “What’s your usual routine here, Charlton?”
Mark smiled. “Routine isn’t something we bother much about here. Oh, we started off with good intentions. We were going to set aside certain days of the week for operating, others for out-patients, and new patients would be seen on others. But it didn’t work out like that. If you can make a patient understand when you tell him you can’t examine him today but if he comes back tomorrow you will—then you’ll have succeeded in doing what I’ve failed to do. There are always things cropping up that upset your plans. Accidents are happening all the time—bites, cuts, poisoning—then you have to pull a tooth in the middle of making a diagnosis. No, you can’t stick to timetables in a place like this.”
“I shall draw up a timetable and insist that it is adhered to,” said Dr. Mastingley coolly. “The efficient running of a hospital depends on rules being made and kept.”
“I quite agree. Under normal circumstances that’s a very good precept; but what applies in England won’t wash here—surely you can see that? And I don’t consider we have been inefficient even if our methods are unorthodox,” he added rather icily.
“My dear chap, I did not mean to imply that you had,” said the older doctor placatingly. “By no means: but you will understand that it won’t suit me to carry on as you’ve been doing. If I am to be treating or examining patients all day and every day, when am I going to get any research done?”
“There’s a slackening off in the work for a while in the summer. You might get some, time for it then,” Mark told him.
“My idea is to put things the other way around. My own work comes first. When I have set aside a certain amount of time each day for that, I shall attend to other matters. Of course, my study will involve treating patients in various stages of sleeping sickness. I want a separate ward for them.”
Mark said, “I was hoping to build separate wards for the different complaints and a separate out-patients department. It would make the work much easier but, for the present, we’ll have to be content with what we have—plus such extensions as can be made without interrupting the work.” Mark stood up and pushed his pipe into his pocket. “For the rest—we’ll see how it goes, shall we?”
Dr. Mastingley stood up too and with a thin smile said, “It will go as I intend it to, my dear chap.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
During the next two weeks the new doctor spent most of his time supervising the building of a small laboratory, using materials and men Mark had meant to use to enlarge the out-patients department. He sometimes helped with the medical work but the bulk of it was still done by Mark and Katherine, assisted by Joseph and Simon. These two, having successfully held the fort while the doctor and nurse were away, now thought nothing was beyond them.
It was obvious that Mark was becoming increasingly uneasy about leaving the hospital in the charge of Dr. Mastingley. Things came to a head when Mark had to go to a neighboring village to attend a patient who was too ill to be moved. Simon went with him and Katherine and Joseph carried on with the usual nursing.
Dr. Mastingley had unpacked his equipment to fit up his laboratory, and had just begun some preliminary tests when a very agitated village woman ran into the hospital crying and moaning.
Katherine got her a chair and brought in Joseph to find out what the trouble was. The only word she could understand was “loketa” and this was repeated several times.
When he had questioned the woman, Joseph said, “The woman says her boy child is ill. She is scared to move him. She wants loketa to see him now.”
“Ask her in what way the child is ill,” Katherine told him. Again Joseph patiently questioned the distressed mother and then said, “The boy has pain in his belly. He’s very sick.”
“It could be any of a number of things, serious or trivial. I’d better get Dr. Mastingley,” said Katherine.
When she went into the laboratory, Dr. Mastingley was holding a test tube over the flame of a burner. He glanced up at her and then went on watching the liquid in the tube.
“Dr. Mastingley, I’m sorry to disturb you but a woman has come to the hospital very upset about her child. He has abdominal pain and is vomiting. Would you go and see him?”
Without taking his eyes off the test tube the doctor replied sharply. “These women get upset too easily! They get hysterical if a child cuts his finger. I can’t leave this experiment. I’ve only just managed to get a start made.”
“But, Doctor, if it’s serious—” said Katherine.
With an exasperated sigh he put the tube in a rack and said impatiently, “He’s eaten something he shouldn’t have eaten—that’s all that’s wrong with him. Give him an emetic. Close the door as you go out.”
Katherine hesitated a moment and then quickly returned to the hospital. Putting a few things into a leather bag, she said to Joseph. “You stay here. I’ll go and see what I can do for the child. Dr. Mastingley says it’s not serious, but if Dr. Charlton comes back while I’m away, tell him what has happened and ask him to come and see the child. Now you’d better explain to the mother that the doctor is busy and that she is to take me to her child as quickly as she can.”
As Joseph spoke to her, the woman, who had been moaning quietly began to wail, “Loketa, loketa,” but eventually she calmed a little and led Katherine to a hut in the village.
A small boy lay on the floor whimpering piteously, his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms clasped around them. After a brief examination, Katherine came to the conclusion that Dr. Mastingley was right about the cause of the child’s illness, but she was nervous about treating it on her own.
She bathed the hot little body and then, to her great relief, she heard voices outside the hut. A second later, Mark stooped to allow his big frame through the doorway. He was followed by Joseph. Mark’s face was set as he knelt beside the child.
“Ask the mother what the boy’s been eating,” he told Joseph. The African nurse learned that the child had been clutching some berries in his hand when he began to be ill.
Mark nodded and prepared an injection. Twenty minutes later Katherine sponged the boy down again and he fell into a peaceful sleep.
“Tell the mother I’ll look in later, but the child will be all right now,” said Mark to Joseph. Then he ducked through the doorway and walked swiftly to the hospital. Katherine followed him.
When he reached the door of his office he turned to her and said, “Come in a minute, will you, Nurse? Sit down.”
He sat at his table. “Have a cigarette? No? Well you’ll excuse me if I light my pipe, won’t you?” He drew deep on it and then said angrily, “This settles it! I’ve been doubtful about the fellow since I first met him, but now! How can he call himself a doctor?” he demanded, his blue eyes blazing. “He might be a clever man but he’s a damn bad doctor. Even if he was practically certain the child was not seriously ill, he should have gone to make sure, if only to put the poor woman’s mind at rest. It would be the right thing to do anywhere, but here—when it’s so important not to lose the confidence of the people—it’s vital. They have complete faith in us, but if once we let them down we might never regain their trust.” He stopped talking and puffed jerkily at his pipe, a scowl on his face. Then he said more calmly, “You won’t mention this to anyone else, I know, Nurse. I shouldn’t be talking like this about a colleague but I had to, or I would have exploded. I’ve never been so furious in my life. Such stupidity! After the way we’ve worked to get where we are!”
Katherine listened to this tirade, wondering where it would lead. When he started railing about Dr. Mastingley, a hope had sprung in heart. He had said, “This settles it!” Did that mean he had decided to stay? She thought it did, but was afraid to believe it.
“Will you ask the Mission Society to send someone else?” she asked tentatively and held her breath while she waited for his reply.
“No!” he said vehemently. “They might send someone even worse next time. What can they have been thinking of, sending a backroom boy to a place like this?”
“Then ... you mean you are not going to leave after all, Doctor?”
“No, I’m staying,” he said forcefully. “I’m going to write to the Society and withdraw my resignation. Dr. Mastingley can stay too. I daresay he’ll do valuable work, but I can’t let him cover himself with glory at the expense of my people.”
This was the first time he had talked to Katherine of his work and his patients in this personal protective way. Probably he himself had not realized how deeply attached he had become to the courageous Africans. It was only when he came to the point of leaving Ngombe that he discovered how close he had drawn to them.
“He’s staying, he’s staying, he’s staying!” The words sang in Katherine’s mind and heart. Forcing herself to speak calmly, she said, “I’m glad you’re staying, Doctor.”
“So am I, Nurse,” he replied quietly, “so am I.” And he did look happier than he had for many weeks. The anxious expression had lifted from his face.
Katherine stood up. “I’d better put these things away,” she said, picking up the bag she had taken when she went to see the little village boy.
Mark nodded and smiled. “Very well, Nurse. When you’ve done that go off duty. I have some letters to write. Then I’ll go down to the village to make sure that child is all right and have a look around here. I may be late for supper. Tell Miss Kennedy not to wait for me, will you? These letters may take quite some time.”
Katherine went to her room, washed, then changed into her blue linen dress.
When she went into the living room Andrew was there alone. He got up and came to her. “You’re looking very happy, this evening, Kathie,” he said.
“Don’t I always look happy?” she asked, smiling.
“Not lately. You’ve seemed rather worried. It was because Charlton is leaving, wasn’t it?”
Not for the first time, Katherine wondered uneasily if Andrew had an inkling of her feeling for Mark. But looking at his kind, open face, she was reassured. After all, it was quite natural that she should be concerned about the threatened change of doctors. After a second’s hesitation, she said, “I suppose it was. I didn’t like the idea of working with a new doctor, and Dr. Mastingley is not the right man for the job. But, Andrew—”her eyes shone as she told him the good news “—he’s not going. Dr. Charlton, I mean.”
“Not going? But why? What’s happened?”
“Well, you must have noticed that he wasn’t satisfied with Dr. Mastingley,” explained Katherine. “He was doubtful whether he—Dr. Mastingley—would look after the patients properly because he seemed to be more interested in his test tubes and slides. Then, today, a woman came to the hospital and asked for the doctor to go and see her sick child. Dr. Charlton was away visiting and when I asked Dr. Mastingley to go, he refused.”
“He refused to go and see the child? That’s bad.”
“Yes. Though as it turned out the boy wasn’t seriously ill. Dr. Charlton returned in time to treat him. He was furious when he learned what had happened. Now he’s decided to stay.”
“Can he do that? After sending in his resignation and when Dr. Mastingley has been appointed doctor in charge here?”
“Oh, that will be all right. He’s writing to the Mission Society to explain. He says Dr. Mastingley can stay, too, and devote himself to his research. It’s wonderful, isn’t it?”
“I suppose so.” Andrew sounded very doubtful.
“Why, what do you mean, Andrew? Aren’t you glad about it?”
“I mean that it’s a good thing if Charlton is quite sure he’s made the right decision this time and will still think so in a few months from now. It would be unfortunate if he changed his mind again. These people need to know they can rely on us all the time.”
“Oh, Andrew,” said Katherine reproachfully, “You know him better than that. He’s not irresponsible. He was going to leave, I know, but now he’ll be more settled than before. This business has made him realize how important his work is to him.”
Andrew smiled a little. “He’s certainly got a loyal champion in you, my dear.”
Katherine felt her cheeks grow hot. She had defended Mark too forcefully. That was a mistake.
“I admire him very much; he’s a very good doctor,” she said.
“Of course you do, and he is,” Andrew replied gently, “but don’t get admiring him too much or I’ll start to be jealous.”
“Don’t be silly, Andrew,” said Katherine rather sharply.
“Hey! No need to get het up. It was only a wee joke.” He was watching her closely and she was painfully aware of her flushed face. She tried to smile.
“I’m sorry, Andrew. I didn’t mean to snap at you:” She put her arms around his neck and laid her hot cheek against his cool one. “I must be tired. Forgive me.”
“Of course, my pet,” he said, kissing her tenderly. As she leaned against him, Katherine thought, “Dear, kind Andrew.” But, involuntarily, came another thought. "Mark is writing to Elizabeth Frayne now, telling her he is staying in Ngombe. Or could he have had second thoughts, after all? When his anger had cooled, had he decided to let his resignation stand and to do as the beautiful Elizabeth wished?
Mark came in a little later and she tried to read the answer in his face. He looked happy and content. That must mean that he was satisfied with his decision to stay in Ngombe; otherwise he would be a little ashamed, as he had been since he agreed to go back to England when Elizabeth Frayne asked him to.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The evening meal over, Mary Kennedy, as she often did, retired to her room. Dr. Mastingley who did not seem at all abashed at Mark’s altered plans, went back to his laboratory. Katherine, Mark and Andrew sat at the table, leisurely drinking their coffee.
The flickering light of the oil-lamps softened the harshness and ugliness of the room and its furniture, almost lending it an. appearance of comfort and beauty.
There was silence for a few minutes. Mark pushed away his cup and saucer and put his elbows on the table to rest his chin on his hands. He was wearing a short-sleeved, cream silk shirt, and Katherine noticed how strong and muscular his arms were. Probably few people outside the profession realized how much physical strength a surgeon needed, she reflected. He took a package of cigarettes out of his pocket and handed them around; then he took one h
imself saying sadly, “I’m down to my last tin of tobacco, so I’ll have to use it sparingly—only at moments of great stress and strain. The cigarettes are running low, too. Let’s hope fresh supplies arrive soon.”
“The boat’s due in a few days,” said Katherine.
Mark nodded. “We are utterly dependent on supplies coming through regularly, aren’t we? It would be disastrous if they ever failed us—and I don’t only mean because I need more tobacco,” he added with a smile.
“Yes, they are our lifeline,” agreed Andrew, “and when you think of the journey that every roll of bandage and bottle of medicine has to make, it’s quite remarkable that we’ve never been let down once. After all, they travel thousands of miles by ship, train, donkey-cart and canoe.”
“We’ve been very lucky,” said Mark. “I thought we’d come unstuck last month when the river was so swollen that the boats couldn’t get here. I don’t know where the men dug up that ramshackle old Ford, or how they managed to drive it all the way from Makurdi through dense undergrowth, forest and mud.”
“I think they pushed it a good part of the way,” answered Andrew. “Your fame has spread far and wide, Charlton, so as soon as it was known that the cases contained medical supplies, you had no shortage of volunteers.”
“It was a great relief to see that muddy old jalopy trundling up to the hospital,” said Mark thoughtfully, “but it’s a risky business; too risky where life and death are concerned. I’ve been wondering if we could obtain the services of a helicopter when conditions are bad. I’ll make some inquiries.”
“That would be grand, wouldn’t it?” Andrew enthused, and Katherine added, “It would be wonderful for bringing seriously ill patients to the hospital too, especially those who live a long way off.”
Outpost Hospital Page 12
