Free Doctor On Toast by Richard Gordon Page B

sends us from the Labour Exchange these days. But don’t you worry, Doc. I’ll shift him to the Library.’
    ‘I don’t think he should be allowed in contact with the passengers at all,’ I added quickly. ‘A bit familiar in his manner, you understand.’
    ‘And so I noticed. I know his type, believe me. Right, we’ll soon settle Mr Bleeding Beauchamp’s hash. I’ll put him waiter in the firemen’s mess.’
    ‘I’m sure that will be very much better for everybody,’ I said, with a gasp of relief.
    ‘Don’t bother yourself, Doc, you won’t have to look at his ugly mug again till we gets home to London. I only wish I could say the same.’
    ‘I think that’s an excellent idea, Chief. And how are the feet?’
    ‘Much easier, thank you. Very interesting to the medical profession, I believe, my feet?’
    ‘Absolutely fascinating.’
    He chuckled. ‘Fair baffled Dr O’Rory, I did, every time I took my boots off.’
    ‘Whenever you feel you want a chat about them,’ I assured him, ‘just bring them along to my cabin.’
    ‘Thank you, Doc, and so I will.’ He picked up a scrap of paper. ‘By the way, the Captain sent a note for you to go to the bridge when you’d finished your surgery. Nothing urgent, but he thinks he’s developing a nasty cold.’
    ‘I’ll slip up at once. Thank you, Chief for being so co-operative.’
    I suddenly realised how jolly useful it had been to cast the Chief Steward’s feet like bread upon the waters. Though I’d been a ghastly cad, of course, banishing old Basil somewhere among the boilers with all the firemen chucking their dinner at him. In fact, my behaviour would have made any self-respecting snake in the grass crawl rapidly away in the opposite direction. But apart from anything else, I’d have had a pretty miserable trip sharing my cabin with Richard the Third all the way to Rio de Janeiro and back. Thinking over the rush of events in the past few hours, I gave myself a little pat on the back. I had at least fixed a nice unruffled holiday, buying Ophelia long drinks in the sunshine and having a really serious bash at the tropical moonlight, and that wasn’t to mention the bingo.
    I climbed all those stairs feeling that I’d now an excellent chance to get myself well in with Captain Makepeace, and one never knew when such things were useful. The bridge itself seemed full of chaps in mufflers staring in all directions and drinking mugs of cocoa, and turning to a sailor polishing the fire-alarm I asked for the Captain.
    A figure by the wheel lowered his binoculars.
    ‘Doctor! You’ve been a devil of a long time.’
    I stared at him.
    ‘But you’re not the Captain!’
    ‘I am not the ruddy galley boy, if that’s what you’re inferring. And don’t lean on that telegraph, unless you want to put the starboard engine full astern.’
    ‘I – I’m frightfully sorry, sir.’
    ‘And furthermore, Doctor, when appearing before the Captain you invariably wear your cap. Kindly remember that.’
    ‘Yes, of course, sir.’
    ‘ And you offer him the courtesy of a salute. Hell’s teeth!’ exclaimed Captain Spratt. ‘I fancy I shall have a good deal to teach you during the voyage, Doctor.’

10
    I hadn’t much time to consider this situation in the next few days, because everyone on board was seasick, including myself. But between holding either other people’s heads or my own over vomit bowls, I kicked myself pretty hard for not examining Captain Makepeace’s kidneys there and then on his desk in the shipping office.
    ‘Captain Makepeace suffered an acute stone in the kidney on his way to the docks this morning,’ Captain Spratt had informed me up on the bridge that evening. ‘Most unfortunate. As our relief captains are all miles away, I like a fool volunteered.’
    ‘It should make a pleasant break from the office, sir,’ was all I could think of saying.
    ‘My dear good feller! Like all professional mariners, I positively detest the sea.’
    He took out