Doctor at Sea

for the crew on medical grounds, or something. He’s got nothing against me. I can be an intermediary.’
    ‘Nothing doing, Doc. This is my pidgin.’
    ‘No, it isn’t. I don’t want to spend the rest of the night putting stitches in your scalp. I’m sure he won’t chuck anything at me.’
    ‘All right, Doc,’ he said. ‘But watch your step.’ Setting my teeth, I climbed up the ladder to the bridge. At first I thought the wheelhouse was empty. Then I caught sight of the Captain, standing by the terrified quartermaster who was steering. He looked like a fat malignant ape.
    ‘Who’s that?’ he growled.
    ‘Doctor, sir,’ I began.’ I came on behalf of the Mate ...’
    ‘Get off my bridge!’
    ‘I wondered if I might explain that on purely medical grounds ...’
    ‘Get out!’
    ‘In my professional opinion,’ I continued resolutely.
    ‘Get out!’ he screamed. ‘Or I’ll bash your bloody brains in!’
    He seized from the bulkhead some heavy instrument. It was, I suppose, a marlin spike or some similar appliance that skippers are traditionally expected to take to beat in the brains of their crew. I did not wait to find out. I scrambled down the ladder and fell hard on to the deck. I hurt my arm and ripped my pyjamas; but already I had forgotten the incident. A new and more terrifying thought took possession of me: Captain Hogg was undoubtedly clinically insane.

18

    ‘DELUSIONS of grandeur,’ I read aloud, ‘occur frequently in this condition.’
    It was the next morning. Hornbeam and Trail were sitting in my cabin while I read aloud from a text-book of medicine. The weather had calmed down and the storm that blew through the ship the night before had abated with it. Immediately after turning me off the bridge Captain Hogg had abruptly gone to his cabin, locked the door, and turned in. He appeared in the morning without making any reference to the night’s excitement, and was even faintly friendly towards everyone on board. He gave the impression that he imagined the activity on the boatdeck was part of a particularly enjoyable dream.
    ‘You see,’ I explained to the others, ’delusions of grandeur. I ought to have spotted it before. Still, it’s difficult in a ship’s captain. No one notices if they have them.’
    ‘What’s wrong with him, Doc?’ Hornbeam asked with interest.
    ‘G.P.I. - general paralysis of the insane, undoubtedly. It’s a late stage of syphilis. Listen to this: “The patient is usually a man in his middle fifties who suddenly becomes subject to attacks of bad temper, fits of sulking, and lack of judgement. These may alternate with periods of violent excitement. The condition is usually first noticed by members of the sufferer’s family circle rather than the physician.” Doesn’t that fit in?
    The old boy picked it up thirty years ago on the Brazilian coast and now we’re getting the benefit of it.’
    Hornbeam rolled a cigarette thoughtfully.
    ‘It’s a serious business, Doc, if you’re right.’
    ‘I’m pretty certain I am.’
    ‘Is there any sort of test you can do to make sure?’ Trail asked.
    ‘I couldn’t give you a definite opinion without examining him. ’I ran my eye down the page of the book.’ “The patient has the sensation of walking on cottonwool,”‘ I read out. ’Stabbing pains in the legs at night...loss of knee-jerks...loss of pain sensation in the tendo Achilles... pupils do not react to light... There’s a good many signs, you see.’
    ‘Yes, but do you suppose he’s going to let you barge into his cabin and examine him?’ Hornbeam asked.
    ‘Have you thought about that?’
    ‘You raise a difficulty in diagnosis, certainly,’ I admitted.’ I don’t feel he would be a highly cooperative patient. Particularly after last night.’
    ‘Well, we’ll have to let him go on being balmy, then.’ I shut the book and took my spectacles off.
    ‘I have an idea,’ I announced.’ I remember the way I was once told to examine children.’
    ‘Children! This one’s some baby!’
    ‘It’s the principle of the thing that matters. They taught us in hospital to deal with unwilling children by distracting their attention and examining what you wanted while they weren’t looking. See what I’m getting at? The knee-jerks, for instance. I shall engage him in conversation and drop a book or a bottle of something on his patella, pretending it’s an accident. Oh yes, I think that’s the answer,’ I said, warming to the idea.