Free Cherry Ames 09 Cruise Nurse by Helen Wells Page A

guess,” she muttered, quoting Ziggy’s description of the pulmonary thrombosis patient, “is that Mr.
    Rough Diamond has spent a lot of time at sea, during his youth and not too long ago either, because he couldn’t be more than thirty-nine or forty now.” Soberly she let herself into Timmy’s bedroom, wondering what could be the attraction No. 141
    seemed to have for both Jan Paulding and Mr. Rough Diamond.

    c h a p t e r v i
    Scuttlebutt
    timmy greeted cherry with a garbled version of the ship’s itinerary. Either his mother had foolishly misinformed him of the ports they would visit or he was deliberately making up a route of his own.
    “We’re going to Peru,” he announced with an impish grin. “I know all about Peru.” He began to chant:
    “ ‘There was a young man from Peru, Who dreamed he was eating his shoe.
    He awoke in the night
    With a terrible fright
    To fi nd it was perfectly true!’ ”
    Cherry laughed and went into the bathroom to wash the glass straw in hot, soapy water. Then she fl ushed it with alcohol and rinsed away the bitter taste. She taught Timmy how to drink his juice lying down. He thought it was great fun but preferred blowing bubbles.
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    SCUTTLEBUTT
    71
    At last Mrs. Crane took over. “I’ll see that he drinks every drop of it,” she promised Cherry. “We’ve taken up far too much of your time already.”
    “I’ve enjoyed it,” Cherry said. “Just keep at the fl uids, will you? He should have at least four ounces every half-hour, if possible.” She sighed. She didn’t envy helpless little Mrs. Crane the job of forcing fl uids into mischievous young Timmy.
    As she wearily left the room Timmy was pretending he was a whale and was spouting pineapple juice through the glass straw.
    Back in her own little cabin she had hardly started to unpack when there was a tap at the door.
    A young woman in a crisp, stewardess’s uniform smiled at her in the dim light of the narrow passageway.
    “I’m your neighbor in the next cabin,” she told Cherry. “Helenita Browning is my name, but everybody calls me Brownie.”
    “I’m Cherry Ames, Brownie.” They shook hands briefl y. “Come in for a minute, won’t you?” Cherry invited.
    Brownie took one step across the threshold and then gave a gasp as she saw Cherry’s Christmas presents spread out on the bed.
    “Oh, how lovely,” she cried, snatching up the red-rose taffeta bathing suit. “Yummy-yum, will you ever look lovely in this on the beach at Piscadera Bay.”
    “Piscadera Bay?”
    Brownie nodded and draped the soft terry-cloth robe Cherry’s mother had given her over her shoulders.

    72 CHERRY
    AMES,
    CRUISE
    NURSE
    “That’s at Curaçao. It’s only a few minutes’ bus drive from the port of Willemstad. If we can wangle shore leave at the same time, I’ll show you the ropes.” As Cherry hung things in the closet, Brownie curled up on her bed, rambling on:
    “Willemstad is a fascinating Dutch city; as pictur-esque as though a bit of Holland had been lifted out of Europe and set down smack in the Caribbean Sea.
    There’s a fabulous pontoon bridge which swings back as ships come into the harbor. You’ll get a big thrill when we sail right down the canal so close to the Hotel Americano you can almost touch the people sitting out on the veranda.”
    “Sounds like something out of a movie,” Cherry said.
    “Tell me more, please.”
    “Well,” Brownie went on willingly, “when people on the bridge see us coming they run like anything to get to shore because sometimes it stays open for more than half an hour. They can, of course, cross in Verboot which means ferryboat; it runs while the bridge is open.
    The buildings in Willemstad are fascinating; you’ll love the eighteenth-century governor’s palace and all the churches and the little bright-colored, gabled houses, pink and yellow stucco mostly. We’ll visit the market where Venezuelan natives keep shop in boats along the shore.”
    Brownie scrambled to