‘Advertising agencies, sir?’
‘Your best friend wouldn’t tell you, and all that rubbish. Anyone would imagine the entire human race stank like a herd of goats. We’ve got some hag from one of them sailing this trip, to be photographed in her bathing drawers all over the deck. I’m only warning you.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘The Company’s gone raving mad about advertising.’ He banged the desk so hard all the ships quivered. ‘Even had a snapshot taken of me, God help them! By some ghastly wallahs in pink trousers who kept calling each other dearie.’
‘I – I hope it came out nicely, sir.’
‘When I first took command, passengers came aboard to travel, not to participate in some sort of floating Babylonian orgy. Hell’s teeth! In those days you could maintain order and discipline aboard – silence in the afternoons and everyone up for breakfast, and so on. If passengers wanted amusement, there was always bingo on Saturday nights. You are fond of bingo, Doctor?’
‘I don’t think I’ve played, sir.’
‘Anyway, they’ve changed bingo to Thursdays. On Saturdays my unfortunate Captains are obliged to put on paper hats and dance the rumba with a bunch of old ladies who’d be far better tucked up with a hot water bottle in Bournemouth. Nobody at sea knows where they are any more. At this rate we’ll be moving Divine Service to Wednesday afternoons. When can you join?’
‘Join? You mean it’s – it’s all fixed? Absolutely any time you like, sir.’
Razzy had shown up with his sprained ankles and sun blisters, the husband had gone back to the Himalayas and taken the actress with him, so I was professionally on the loose again.
‘Report on board eight o’clock Friday morning to check medical stores,’ ordered Captain Spratt briefly. ‘You will now step next door to be introduced to Captain Makepeace, who is in command of your vessel.’ He held out his hand. ‘It only remains for me to wish you a pleasant voyage, Doctor. We shall meet again on your return to port.’
I was pretty relieved to discover Captain Makepeace a little thin chap with a bowler and umbrella beside him, sitting at a desk signing some papers.
‘You may have found Captain Spratt somewhat direct in his manner,’ he began mildly, as we were left alone.
‘Bluff old sea-dog, and all that,’ I remarked.
‘Pray do not be discomforted by him, Doctor. I was his Chief Officer for some years, and I fear I let it undermine my health.’ Captain Makepeace laid a hand on his right hip pocket. ‘The kidneys, you know. I still suffer from the twinges. Perhaps you could suggest something – ?’
‘Delighted to give you a thorough going-over once I’m aboard,’ I said quickly, it being clearly important to keep in with the chap.
‘Thank you, Doctor. I should be most obliged. It is indeed a great relief to have an enthusiastic young medical man like yourself with us. A great relief. Dr O’Rory, I fear, has been behaving very oddly of late. Of course, he has been at sea for many years.’
I nodded. It is well known in the profession that prolonged service afloat induces certain irreversible psychological changes.
‘He became very interested in the Great Pyramid – all the measurements, you understand. Unless he consulted them he was unable to decide anything at all, from the day to get his hair cut to the prescription for some unfortunate person appearing in his surgery.’
Captain Makepeace gave a faint smile.
‘Of course, I am not so strict at sea as Captain Spratt would suggest. We live in modern times, Doctor. Indeed, I rather encourage my officers to drink with the passengers.’
‘Excellent social move, sir.’
‘And to pay some little attentions to the unaccompanied young ladies.’
I nodded. ‘The poor things might get frightfully lonely otherwise.’
‘We must make our own fun at sea, you know. Do you like bingo, Doctor? If you wish, you can call out the numbers. Dr O’Rory did, and very witty he was too, until recently he started getting a bit near the knuckle for the ladies.’ We shook hands. ‘I am sure, Doctor, our next voyage will be a particularly happy one.’
‘I’m absolutely positive,’ I agreed warmly.
Thus I appeared up the gangway of the Capricorn Queen before breakfast the following Friday morning, dressed up in as much gold braid as the chap who hails the taxis outside Fortnum’s.
The Capricorn Queen was a great white thing like a wedding cake with portholes, though as she was tied to Tilbury Docks I’d nothing much to do for the weekend, except sit on the sofa that ran down one side of my cabin like the seat in a second-class railway compartment, smoking duty-free cigarettes and reading Lord Hornblower.
I hadn’t said a word to Ophelia about my being aboard, because I thought it would come as a nice surprise. Besides, she might have decided to stay at home once she realised we were leaving old Basil on the beach at Blackport. I was, of course, being a simply frightful cad, nipping up the gangway behind the poor chap’s back. But the thought of all that tropical moonlight in store not only shoved the thought into my subconscious, but fairly made me want to go skipping round the deck.
I spent an impatient few days until they put a match to the boilers, and with a good deal of confusion we edged round to Tilbury landing stage, where passengers are let on by those chaps who handle passports as though they were Christmas cards from the Isolation Hospital. You can imagine I was pretty well jumping with excitement, particularly when I fancied I spotted Ophelia’s legs disappearing up a companion-way. I’d asked the Chief Steward to put a whacking great bunch of roses in her cabin with a little note simply inviting her to cocktails at six with the ship’s doctor, and I could hardly wait to see her face as she opened my cabin door and saw me waiting to mix her first Martini.
In no time we were on our way to South America, which to start with runs between Plumstead Marshes and Barking Creek. I changed into a clean white collar and polished up my brass buttons. Six o’clock arrived. I sat on the edge of the sofa and wondered exactly what Ophelia would say.
As it happened, she jolly near fainted.
‘Gaston!’ She gave a shriek. ‘What in heaven’s name are you doing here?’
I bowed and kissed her hand.
‘Your humble shipmate.’
‘But you aren’t a sailor!’
‘Yes I am,’ I corrected her. ‘At the moment, just as much as Nelson or old Father Noah himself. I’m the official ship’s doctor.’
She stared at me.
‘But – but for God’s sake why?’
‘Ophelia my sweet,’ I explained simply. ‘For you.’
‘For me? What on earth do you mean, for me? How can you possibly–’
I kissed her hand again.
‘For you,’ I repeated, ‘have I adopted the rough and uncertain calling of a seafarer–’
‘You must be crazy!’
‘No, no, Ophelia!’ I started edging her towards the sofa. ‘It’s not crazy at all. Just think, for three blissful weeks you and I will be absolutely alone – apart from the other passengers of course.’
I had another go at her hand.
‘By then, my dear old girl,’ I went on, warming a bit, ‘in the intimacy of shipboard life you will have grown to know me better. You may perhaps have grown to know me well enough to understand the terrible yearning–’
‘Where are the cigarettes, darling?’ asked Ophelia, recovering herself.
‘Oh, sorry. Over here.’
She sat down on the sofa.
‘I wish you’d sent me a postcard or something first, darling.’
‘But I wanted it to be a nice surprise.’
‘It was certainly all of that,’ she agreed.
I offered the duty-free cigarette tin.
‘I hope you liked the flowers I sent to your cabin?’
‘Which ones were they, darling? The ship’s like a floating Kew Gardens.’
‘Ophelia–’ I flicked my lighter.
‘Yes, darling?’
‘I don’t mind what you do, Gaston. If you want to go about dressed like a bus conductor, that’s your affair.’
That was a bit irking. I’d hoped to cut a modest dash, what with all those brass buttons.
‘But Ophelia!’ I protested. ‘You yourself said what terrific fun it would be if only I could make the trip.’
‘Did I, darling?’
‘Of course you did. With the early morning dips and the ping pong and the shuffle-board. Surely you remember?’
‘A pretty palatial cabin you’ve got here, I must say,’ observed Ophelia, blowing out a cloud of smoke.
‘Not bad, is it? Nice and handy for the first-class swimming pool and the Veranda Bar.’
‘The stinking little slot they’ve given me down below isn’t big enough to swing the ship’s cat in.’
I patted her hand. ‘I’ll get it changed,’ I told her. ‘Pretty important chap on board, the ship’s doctor, you know. In fact, anything you should happen to want during the voyage–’ I edged a bit up the sofa. ‘Anything at all, you’ve only got to ask old Uncle Grimsdyke, who is ever at your devoted–’
‘What’s the other door with the red cross on it?’
‘That? That’s the hospital.’
‘What an extraordinary thing to have on a ship! May I see?’
‘Of course,’ I replied politely, though preferring to continue the conversation on the sofa. ‘All very neatly arranged, don’t you think?’ I added, opening the door.
‘What’s that heap of old iron doing in the corner?’
‘That’s the fully collapsible operating table.’
‘How gruesome!’
‘Oh yes, you can have your stomach out on board if you want to,’ I explained. ‘The Company spares no expense over the passengers’ amenities.’
Ophelia gave a shiver.
‘I was invited here for a drink, wasn’t I?’
‘I say, I’m frightfully sorry. All the stewards are at sixes and sevens stowing away the passengers, and my chap hasn’t shown up yet. I’ll give the fellow a buzz.’
‘What on earth are these? Nut crackers for coconuts?’
‘They’re obstetrical forceps.’
‘What awful things you have round you! I’d no idea you were that sort of doctor at all.’
Ophelia then got interested in the amputation set, so I left her fiddling with the muscle scalpel and rang the bell in my cabin.
‘Ah, Steward,’ I said, re-arranging the cushions to make the sofa nice and comfy for her. ‘I’d like you to put out the gin from my spirit locker, and just nip across to the Veranda Bar and collect a pitcher of ice with half-a-dozen tonics and – Good God!’ I cried. ‘You!’
‘Good God!’ exclaimed Basil Beauchamp. ‘You!’
9
I slammed the hospital door. Basil and I stood staring at each other like a couple of lobsters caught in the same pot.
‘What the devil are you doing here?’ I demanded. ‘Dressed up like that?’
‘Exactly the same, dear chappie,’ he replied very affably, ‘might I ask you.’
‘But I’m the ship’s doctor!’
‘And I’m the ship’s steward. Or at least, one of them. There’s a good dozen sharing my cabin down below for a start. Still, that’s nothing after provincial dressing-rooms. But my dear Grim! What a delightful surprise to meet you. And what an amazing coincidence. How’s the cut of my white jacket? I picked it up yesterday from the theatrical costumier’s.’
I grabbed the hospital door handle.
‘I – I’ve got a difficult patient in here,’ I said quickly. ‘Hysterical female, you know.’
‘How terribly exciting for you.’
‘Just give me a moment to get rid of her.’
‘But of course.’
‘And we’ll settle down to a nice cosy chat.’
I slipped inside the hospital.
‘Darling,’ said Ophelia, ‘you don’t use these saw things on people, surely?’
I seized her arm. ‘Terribly sorry, old girl. An awkward patient’s just turned up in my cabin–’
‘Well, I must say! I was asked here for a quiet drink–’
‘The doctor’s life, you understand.’ I gave a little laugh. ‘Professional duties first, never know what’s going to turn up next, and all that. No, no! Not that door.’
She looked startled.
‘My patient’s frightfully infective. Never do to mix with him. Probably smallpox. The other door here leads straight on deck. Know your way back to your cabin? Mind the step. Bye-bye…’
Ophelia disappeared, rather mystified. I staggered back through the hospital. Reaching my own cabin, I found Basil with his feet up on my sofa, pouring himself a glass of my gin.
‘But this is perfectly astounding, dear chappie!’ He helped himself to one of my cigarettes. ‘How on earth did you come to be aboard?’
‘I wanted a holiday. Run down, you know. Overwork in Town. The sea air should do me a world of good.’
‘Yes, you do look a bit hot and flushed.’ Basil sniffed. ‘That’s very odd.’
‘What’s very odd?’ I asked shortly.
‘That smell. It’s like the perfume my fiancée uses.’
‘It’s the antiseptic. But what about you?’ I demanded, coming to the point. ‘Surely at this very moment you should be amusing the little kiddies up at Blackport?’
‘So I should, dear chappie, so I should. But the good burghers of Blackport, given ample opportunity and invitation to witness our little entertainment, refused to avail themselves of the chance. When the cast started outnumbering the audience the management felt they had inflicted sufficient suffering on both sides of the footlights, and put up the notice.’
‘What a damned nuisance! I mean, what a damn shame.’
‘On the contrary, it was absolutely a blessing in disguise. Blackport was a ghastly place, anyway, all tripe and trams.’ Basil unhooked the collar of his jacket. ‘But do I hear you ask,’ he continued amiably, ‘why I should exchange the freedom of a West End actor – indeed, the freedom of an unemployed West End actor – for the cabin’d, cribb’d, confin’d existence of a mere ship’s steward?’
I snatched the gin from Basil’s elbow and poured myself a glass.
‘It was a woman, dear chappie,’ he explained simply. ‘I don’t expect you’ll remember, after that lovely medical exam you gave me before Christmas, I introduced you to my fiancée? A charming girl called Ophelia. Well, she is at the moment on board this very ship. What on earth’s that rattling noise?’
‘Just – just the glass against my teeth. Bit nervy these days, you know.’
‘I say, you are in a state.’ Basil took the bottle and helped himself to another drink. ‘Furthermore, Ophelia hasn’t the first idea in her sweet little head that I share with her this fatal and perfidious bark. Remarkable you may think?’
‘Yes, very.’
‘But the dear girl has such a gentle nature she would have stayed at home rather than let me sweat it out in the beastly bowels. Remind me to tell you some time, by the way, of an establishment down below known as the Glory Hole.’
I said nothing. I just stood feeling furious with the chap, popping up unexpectedly all over the place, like his blasted Demon King.
‘In fact, Ophelia and I are both working our passage. She’s doing a modelling job for the shipping adverts.’ Basil arranged the cushions more comfortably under his head. ‘Meanwhile, this steward lark isn’t too galling, apart from the hours they make you get up in the morning. One is fed and paid, which is quite a consideration. Naturally, there are snags – someone in the Glory Hole has an electric guitar, and there’s Shuttleworth, the Chief Steward. Do you know him? He’d have made an excellent assistant beak at Dotheboys’ Hall.’
I nodded. I had already lavished my professional attention on Mr Shuttleworth’s feet, and found him a jovial little bird emitting a f
riendly aura of beer and onions. I supposed it showed how people can vary with your viewpoint.
‘The little wart made me scrub acres of dirty deck this morning, simply because I’d asked for Ophelia’s cabin number.’ Basil gave a laugh. ‘Odd how our social positions have changed, Grim. I was just going to suggest that you and I and Ophelia all whooped up a few cocktails in the Veranda Bar to celebrate the reunion. Though I must say, dear chappie,’ he went on warmly, ‘I’m delighted Shuttleworth appointed me as your personal steward. Now I’ll be able to use your cabin whenever I want, and you can’t imagine how convenient it is knowing you’re certain of finding a drink and a smoke. It’ll be particularly useful in the afternoons, when I like to run through a few parts.’
I reached for the gin bottle again.
‘A little later on–’ Basil gave a wink. ‘I’m sure you won’t mind taking a stroll on deck while I entertain Ophelia? That sort of thing would be completely impossible in the Glory Hole, of course. Good Lord, is that the time?’ He swung his legs to the deck. ‘I must toil up to the bridge with the Radio Officer’s sandwiches. That exploiter of the workers, Shuttleworth, lands me with all the dirty jobs. But believe me, I could put up with twice as much to be near my little Ophelia. By the way, Grim,’ he added, ‘whatever happened about the test?’
‘Test? What test?’
‘You know, when you made me widdle in a jam-jar.’
‘Oh, that? Normal. Perfectly normal.’
‘That’s a relief. For some reason Ophelia never let me know. Terribly decent of you to invite me to make free with your cabin.’ Basil put an arm round my shoulders. ‘But as I always said in those happy days in the dear old digs – Grimsdyke, above all, is a gentleman.’
He left. For a minute I stood staring at the sofa. Then I pulled open the door and made straight for Mr Shuttleworth’s office on the main square.
‘’Ullo, Doc.’ The Chief Steward looked surprised over his pile of ship’s papers. ‘Something up? You seem proper flustered, and no mistake.’
‘Something rather troublesome has happened, Chief,’ I muttered. ‘That steward you’ve given me–’
‘Beauchamp? New this voyage. What’s the perisher up to?’
Doctor On Toast Page 6
