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 friendly 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?’
‘If you don’t mind I’d rather not go into details. Least said, and all that. But – well, the chap isn’t at all satisfactory.’
‘Cor luv us, I might have known.’ Mr Shuttleworth tipped back his chair. ‘You wouldn’t believe it, the rubbish they 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.’
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 his little silver box.
‘I – er, wouldn’t recommend snuff with your complaint, sir.’
‘Doctor, I asked you up here to cure my cold, not to change the habits of a lifetime.’
‘Yes, quite, sir.’
Fate, of course, was at it again. When I’d qualified at St Swithin’s I’d uttered a great sigh of relief at finally getting out of the clutches of Sir Lancelot Spratt. Now I wasn’t only back in them again, but being clutched by the whole ruddy Spratt family. Fortunately, just then somebody came up to the bridge and announced he wanted to drop the pilot, so I was able to escape and send up a couple of aspirins.
It wasn’t till our fourth day out that the ship stopped throwing herself all over the ocean, and the sun returned to the sky and the colour to the passengers’ cheeks. For the first time I began to think about my next meal instead of my last one, and after my morning surgery I stepped jauntily enough on deck in search of Ophelia.
I found her being photographed looking enraptured on a capstan, and what with her little blonde curls and her little brief swimsuit, I felt at once that come Captain Spratt, come seasickness, come even old Basil, it was all jolly well worth it.
‘Darling, where on earth have you been to?’ she greeted me.
‘I’ve been seasick. Haven’t you?’
‘But of course not! I’ve never been sick in my life, not even after parties. Do you know Humphrey?’
She indicated a weedy chap in pink slacks with a camera, who kept saying, ‘Just one more, dear, and then we’ll try it on the anchor.’
‘Enjoying the trip?’ I asked her.
She pouted. ‘A pretty dreary bunch of people, I must say.’
‘I think they’re supposed to get better as we go along.’ I hesitated. ‘You haven’t seen anyone on board you know, of course?’ I mentioned casually.
‘But who on earth would I know on a jaunt like this?’
‘No one at all, naturally,’ I agreed quickly. ‘And – er, I don’t suppose you’ll be wanting to make a tour of the ship or anything? Engine room, boilers, firemen’s quarters, and so on?’
‘My cabin’s quite awful enough, darling, thank you.’
I nodded. ‘Yes, I shouldn’t penetrate the depths. Very insanitary down there. Easily catch things.’
‘Another with legs, dear,’ chipped in Humphrey.
‘How about a cocktail in my cabin before lunch?’ I suggested.
‘Darling, I’d love to, but I’ve got to have my hair done.’
‘Well, before dinner?’
‘I’ve a date to try on some costumes for Humphrey.’
‘Before lunch tomorrow, then?’
‘Oh, all right, darling.’
I gave a laugh. ‘After all, we’ve got three whole weeks ahead of us, haven’t we?’
‘Yes, I suppose we have, darling.’
I went back to my cabin feeling pretty pleased with myself.
But I didn’t get my drink after all. After breakfast the next morning Mr Shuttleworth appeared, and announced that the Captain desired my company at twelve-thirty prompt in his cabin. I cursed a bit, but as there seemed as much chance of avoiding the summons as of avoiding the summons to the life hereafter, I scribbled a note to Ophelia putting everything off until dinner time and dutifully climbed to the bridge.
‘Ah, Doctor! There you are.’
I entered the Captain’s cabin, saluting hard enough to dislocate my right wrist joint.
‘I thought I’d have you up here for a drink,’ he explained.
‘That’s very civil of you, sir,’ I returned, as politely as possible.
‘Get to know you a bit, you understand?’
He paused to give his nose a couple of helpings of snuff.
‘That cold of mine, Doctor. Gone like a flash.’
‘I’m delighted to hear it, sir.’
‘Good job of work. I regard it as one of the first principles in successfully commanding a vessel at sea always to give credit where credit is due. I do so now.’
At least the old boy seemed much more affable. Now he was like Blackbeard after a good lunch settling down to organise the walking the plank.
‘You were a student of my brother’s, eh?’ the Captain went on, as I took a seat. ‘The brains of the family. The bookworm, at any rate. I suppose I really should look him up in London. I’ve no excuse, having time enough on my hands now I’ve swallowed the anchor.’
He whisked up more snuff, making rather a noise about it.
‘As for you, Doctor, you know the rules. Observe them, and you and I will get on perfectly well on board.’
‘I’m sure we shall, sir,’ I told him hopefully.
‘You’re not interested in the Great Pyramid, I suppose?’
‘Not in the slightest, sir.’
‘Good.’
I began to feel the outlook was fairly encouraging. I should have to be pretty discreet with Ophelia, of course, but a ship is crammed with cosy nooks for little chats. And though old Basil wasn’t far away, being chased round the boilers every time the menu didn’t come up to scratch, as far as Ophelia was concerned they might have been in two different ships sailing in opposite directions.
‘Now let’s have our drink.’ The Captain interrupted my thoughts by clapping his hands and calling, ‘Steward!’
And there was that blasted chap Basil again, standing in the doorway.
‘Anything the matter, Doctor?’ exclaimed the Captain.
‘Nothing – nothing, sir. Just a little rigor. Possibly a slight temperature.’
‘You must look after yourself. We can’t have the doctor sick, you know.’
‘No, of course not, sir.’
I stared hard at Basil. He stared hard at the silver chronometer over my head. I wondered for a few seconds if it really was the beastly fellow, or whether I’d got hallucinations from general break-up of the psychology under the strain. He seemed different from the chap who’d been sprawling on my sofa guzzling my gin – older, somehow, more bent, and half asleep.
‘Name your tipple, Doctor,’ invited Captain Spratt genially, blowing his nose on a large red-spotted handkerchief.
‘Pink gin,’ I muttered.
‘And for me, as usual, Beauchamp.’
‘I have taken the liberty of anticipating your wishes, sir,’ replied Basil, advancing with a tray and two glasses.
‘But, damn it! What about the doctor’s wishes–’
‘I took the further liberty of anticipating those, sir.’
‘The man’s a marvel,’ muttered Captain Spratt.
‘I trust that is the quantity of angostura bitters you favour, sir?’ went on Basil, bending over me with the glass.
I glared at him.
‘Will there be anything more, sir?’ he asked the Captain.
‘Not for the moment, thank you, Beauchamp.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
He withdrew, with the dignity of a High Court judge knocking off for lunch.
‘Don’t see many fellers at sea like him, eh?’ Captain Spratt gave an appreciative nod. ‘In the old days, you could have swapped the Captain’s tiger for the butler in any stately home in the kingdom, and no one would have been the wiser. Now they’re all scent and hair oil and what’s-me-overtime. But Beauchamp’s one of the real old type. I don’t suppose you even see ’em ashore now, more’s the pity.’
‘I don’t seem to have noticed him about the ship much,’ was all I managed to say, struggling to adjust myself to the situation.
‘Of course you haven’t. Do you know where that fool of a Chief Steward buried him? Down below in the firemen’s mess, if you please. I spotted the feller on my rounds yesterday, and brought him on deck.’
There was a cough from the doorway.
‘Yes, Beauchamp?’
‘I have removed the cover of your bunk, sir, and set out your bedroom slippers, should you feel the inclination for a rest after luncheon, sir.’
The Captain nodded. ‘It’s very likely I’ll turn in.’
‘If I might respectfully point out, sir, a short sleep in the afternoon has been advocated by many distinguished men of affairs. I would mention Napoleon and Mr Gladstone, sir.’
‘I can perfectly well understand it, Beauchamp.’
‘I shall call you at four o’clock precisely, sir.’
‘Very good, Beauchamp.’
‘With a pot of tea and assorted confectionery, sir.’
‘Thank you, Beauchamp.’
‘Thank
you
, sir.’
Basil disappeared again.
The whole scene left me totally mystified. Particularly as Basil was such a lazy hound in the digs he’d hardly ever make his own bed, and certainly never anyone else’s.
‘Beauchamp will be an absolute godsend at the party tonight,’ I heard the Captain saying.
‘Party?’ I looked up. ‘What party?’
‘The usual jamboree – Captain’s cocktails. Bores me to tears myself, but the passengers expect it. Just a few from the first-class, you understand. I’ve asked the crowd from my table and that advertising woman and the feller with the pink pants.’
I gave a jump. ‘Not up
here
, sir?’
Captain Spratt glared at me. ‘I am not in the habit of entertaining my guests on the bridge or the fo’c’sle head, if that’s what you infer.’
‘No, no, of course not, sir, but–’
‘You are naturally invited, so kindly be sure you’ve got a clean dickey. Six o’clock sharp, if you please.’
‘I – I don’t think I’ll be able to attend, sir.’
‘You don’t think you’ll what?’ roared the Captain.
‘I mean, I’ve a good bit of work to clear up down below, sir–’
‘Now look here, Doctor. If you think I am going to make footling small talk over the olives to a bunch of third-class people with first-class tickets, without the full and enthusiastic support of every one of my senior officers, you are greatly mistaken. Hell’s teeth! I will not have any shilly-shallying. I will not have it! You will arrange your work efficiently, and be here on time. That is an order.’
‘Of course, sir. Quite, sir. I assure you it will be a great pleasure, sir–’
‘It certainly will not be. But if you don’t make it appear so to everybody present, God help you.’ He swallowed the rest of his gin. ‘Now I must go to the bridge.’
The Captain disappeared up a ladder. I hung behind for a second or two. Then I nipped back to the little pantry outside his cabin door, to find Basil enjoying a smoke and helping himself to the gin.
‘Look here! What’s the ruddy idea?’ I demanded at once.
‘My dear chappie!’ He gave a grin. ‘How was I?’
‘What the hell do you mean, how were you?’ I felt pretty narked at it all. ‘You not only give me the fright of my life creeping through the doorway, but you go oiling round the Captain like a stage butler–’
‘But that’s exactly it! Don’t you remember the very first show I was in?
The Missing Butler
. I played the butler. In fact, now I come to think of it, I’ve been playing butlers steadily ever since, when I’ve been in work. I’ve become absolutely first-class at this “Dinner is served, m’lord, Coffee is on the terrace, m’lady, The body awaits you in the library, Inspector” stuff. Though you can’t imagine how hard it is living, breathing and thinking a butler from morning to night. I’m so glad you liked the performance.’
‘The way you were carrying on certainly made the Admirable Crichton look like a teashop waitress,’ I told him, ‘but that’s not the point–’
‘Thank you, dear chappie. You know how I appreciate a good notice. The idea came to me when I was relegated to the firemen’s mess by slave driver Shuttleworth. Not that it was too bad down there, once I’d stopped being beastly sick. All the firemen these days are little skinny men, you know, with clean collars who turn knobs. But as I wasn’t allowed on the passenger decks, the whole object of my voyage was defeated. After all,’ he explained, ‘the only reason I’m floating about the place like this is to be near my Ophelia.’
I said nothing.
‘And tonight,’ laughed Basil, ‘the poor dear thing is going to get the surprise of her sweet young life. I can hardly imagine her face when she steps through that door and sees me waiting with her first Martini. No end of a joke, don’t you think? Though not a word if you happen to see her about the ship,’ he added darkly. ‘Sorry I can’t offer you another gin. I must go down to the Glory Hole for a bite of lunch myself.’
‘If you think you can go on pulling wool over the eyes of a chap like Captain Spratt–’
‘What do you make of our bearded chum in the gold braid, by the way? Rather preposterous, isn’t he? Still, the experience is no end of help. I might easily find myself playing a captain sometime, and I’m picking up all sorts of useful hints just watching him prowling about.’