Richard Gordon - DOCTOR AT SEA

'We've got a nice veal and ham pie on as well, if you want any,' Whimble whispered in my ear as we went in.

All the officers off watch were crammed round the saloon table. Captain Hogg sat at the head, with McDougall opposite him. The Lotus shivered and started again, and they glared at each other over the tomato soup. Free whisky was given to all hands, and Whimble handed each officer a paper hat, with a plea not to crush it as they would have to make do for the following year.

I was cutting my first slice of turkey when Hornbeam, who was next to me, gave a nudge.

'Your man seems to want you,' he said.

Easter was standing sheepishly in the doorway.

I excused myself to Captain Hogg and went over to him.

'What is it?' I asked.

'Having a nice dinner, Doctor?'

'Well, if that's all you came to say…'

'There's been trouble in the poop.'

'Trouble? What sort of trouble?'

'Couple of the lads been fighting.'

'Oh, all right. Who are they?'

'Two of the stewards. Myrtle and Mavis.'

'Who did you say?'

Easter grinned. 'You'll find out,' he said.

Two tall, silky-haired young men who cleaned the cabins were sitting in the hospital. They were both covered in blood, and one was in tears.

'What the devil's been going on?' I asked the other.

His lip quivered and he, too, began to weep.

'Another little problem of the sea,' Easter remarked tolerantly. 'Them blokes as is a bit late making up their minds whether they're men or women.'

'Oh lord!' I said. 'What were they fighting about?'

'I didn't do it!' the first one cried. 'I swear on my honour I didn't!'

'Oh, yes you did!' the other shouted. 'You give it back at once, you mean thing!'

'How can I give it back if I haven't got it?'

'Yes you have! You've been trying to sneak it all the voyage!'

'I haven't got that beastly lipstick! It isn't my colour, anyway.'

They started pulling each other's hair.

'They're a bit queer,' Easter explained helpfully.

'Well, do something about them, man! Pour water on them! Get the Mate, and I'll have them logged.'

Easter hit one over the head with an arms-splint.

'Turn it up,' he said genially. 'It's Christmas.'

I put dressings on the unfortunate couple and went back to dinner. By that time everything had been eaten and Captain Hogg was on his feet again, making another speech.

'…I have said before,' he told the company, leaning on the table, 'and I say it again-I am proud of my crew. The crew of my ship. I shall put in my report to the Company that you are the best crew-'

His face clouded over. He snarled. The Lotus had stopped again.

The rest of the day passed unalarmingly. We were nearing the busy coast of Uruguay, where the River Plate shipping first turns north to Europe and the States. That night I stood on the hot deck in my pyjamas and watched the quiet sea swishing unhurriedly past the Lotus's side. Another ship approached us, two broken rows of lights in the darkness, her green starboard light shining into ours. An Aldis light flashed from her bridge, calling us up. I watched the Third Mate reply. I supposed we only wished each other a Merry Christmas and exchanged the usual courtesy queries about name and destination, but it made me realize for the first time that the Lotus was not the only ship on the sea: all over the world there were tiny floating communities, with the same sort of people doing the same sort of things as we did-keeping parallel watches, eating similar meals, listening to the identical strokes of another ship's bell. There were other doctors, other mates, other captains, each ship struggling with its own apparently paramount problems. I yawned, as Captain Hogg shrank into comforting perspective.

When I went to turn in I found Hornbeam in my cabin.

'Hello, Doc. Just dropped in for a final peg, seeing it's Christmas night. Do you mind?'

'Not a bit. Help yourself to the Scotch.'

'Thanks.'

He put his feet up on the desk.

'Father made a fine showing to-day,' he said.

'Where is he now?'

'Sleeping it off. I just went up to see if the Third Mate's sober. You've never seen any of us go on watch sloshed, have you?'

'No, never.'

'It doesn't matter about the Old Man. Some of 'em kill a bottle a day and still keep their jobs.' He stretched. 'I wish this one would drop dead,' he said amiably.

'You'd get promotion, you mean?'

He nodded.

'I'm next on the list. Trouble is, all the other skippers in the Company are as healthy as apprentices. They'll have to give me a command soon,' he added, sadly. 'I'm getting too old and fat to go running up and down hatch ladders.'

'You'll get one soon enough.'

'I don't know. All I want is a command-it doesn't matter if the ship sinks as soon as we get out of port. As long as I can call myself Captain. That's what I've been at sea for all these years-all the way up, apprentice, third, second, mate. That's what keeps us sane, most of us. Waiting for a ship of our own. Then I'm going to chuck the sea and raise chickens.'

'I bet you won't.'

'It's a mug's game. When you've been at it a couple of years they've got you where they want you. There's nothing for you ashore-what good's a master's ticket in the Labour Exchange? The sea's a positive bitch. You can't run away from her if you want to.'

'I suppose you're right there.'

'You staying at sea, Doc?'

'Me? Oh, no. I'm going back to general practice in the provinces, I suppose,' I saw the grey streets, the grey skies, the grey complexions of the patients; wet winter mornings and acrid summer ones; frightened faces on the doorstep at three in the morning; four o'clock parties with conversation like the weak over-sweetened tea; hedging respectability, the eternal narrowness of the persistent provincial.

'Perhaps,' I added.

'Well,' Hornbeam said. 'The only thing to do with life is to live it, you know. Shall we have a last one?' I passed him the bottle. 'We'll be in B.A. to-morrow,' he added more cheerfully. 'You can have some fun there.'

'Everything's on the top line here since they had the purity campaign,' the Third said. 'Now it's as clean as Blackpool. Pity.'

We were lying off the big, white, flat city of Buenos Aires, lines of tall, angular buildings running down to the clean waterfront.

'It's pretty nice here in the New Port,' the Third went on.

'Where do we go?' I asked.

'Down by the meat works.'

Two hours later the Lotus was coaxed through the narrow entrance of the South Dock, and tied up not far from the big grey refrigerating plant.

'Smells like a farm, don't it?' Easter remarked, as we were drawing alongside. 'Don't 'arf get a lot of flies down here. Thick as coppers on a racecourse, they are.'

'So this is where the beef comes from?'

'That's it. They walk in one end and half an hour later they slides out in a tin. Smart, these boys are.'

Our reception was the same as in Santos, except that everyone spoke Spanish. The same functionaries hurried aboard, made for the Mate's cabin, and drank the Mate's gin, from which the business of the ship seemed inseparable. But Hornbeam was determined for once, to go ashore.

'I've only had a couple all day,' he said proudly to me. 'Look at the bottle for yourself. I'm going to take you lads on a treat tonight. See you about ten.'

'I'll hold you to that.'

'Word of honour, Doc.'

Hornbeam kept his promise. When Trail, Archer, and myself met him in his cabin he was glowing but not extinguished.

'Just a quick one before we leave,' he said, unclipping the cap of another gin bottle. 'It's all on me to-night, boys. I've got plenty of pesos.'