'As you say, Doctor. Tip me the wink if you wants anything flogging. Wouldn't like a few tins of beef, would you? I scrounged some when a case bust going into No. 1 hold.'
'No thank you. But I appreciate your generosity. Just get me another pitcher of iced water from the galley.'
I put on my cap and went on deck. It was almost noon. The sun, as coarse and uninhibited as everything else in the region, shone savagely on the white planks and brown steel of the decks; but the river, the ships, and the quay were as peaceful as an English village on a high summer afternoon. The purring electric cranes were still and stood at untidy angles along the wharf with crates of merchandise at their feet, abandoned by the dockers for the midday break. Some of the stevedores lay asleep in the shade that was sharply cut out here and there by corners and eaves; others languidly masticated their lunch inside the doors of the airless sheds. From somewhere downstream came the subdued hoot of a small ship's whistle, and the regular soft thumping of some essential pump. The steers mooed spasmodically in the unseen corrals behind the meat works, and the flies, unaffected by the general langour, buzzed in thick, irritating squadrons everywhere.
I leaned on the hot rail and looked at the grey walls of the Frigorifico Anglo, which was temporarily inactive for lunch. I began to understand the disadvantages of my abrupt poverty: we should be in Buenos Aires for at least a fortnight, and the Frigorifico, though of superb interest as a commercial and technical undertaking and with appreciable merit as an example of functional design, would soon become oppressive as the largest segment of my daily horizon. I hadn't even the bus fare to the City.
While I was examining these bleak thoughts Trail came and leaned next to me. We discussed our condition in a few words.
'There's not much to be done here if you're broke,' he observed. 'We could rustle up enough to go to the pictures, I suppose.'
'I can do that in London.'
'That's true. They've got some nice parks, so they tell me.'
We had adjusted ourselves to a dull stay in one of the world's gayest capitals when a bright ray of entertainment abruptly shone into our lives from an unexpected source. I was lying on my bunk after dinner, reading the first paragraph of _War and Peace_ with the drowsy inattentive righteousness of a good churchgoer sitting through a summer sermon, when Easter pulled aside the curtain across the doorway.
'Father's compliments,' he said. 'And will you come to his cabin, pronto.'
'Oh, lord! What's eating the old boy now?'
'Search me, Doctor. He's getting the Mate up there, and the Hunk.'
'Hunk?'
'Chief Steward, Mr. Whimble.'
'Very well.' I rolled off the bunk and took my cap from the hook over the desk. 'I hope it isn't his stomach again.'
Hornbeam and Whimble were already sitting on the settee in the Captain's cabin. McDougall was in one of the armchairs. On either side of the desk sat Captain Hogg and Mr. Montmorency, the Fathom Line's manager in Buenos Aires. All of them were smoking cigars and drinking liqueurs.
'Ah, Doctor, come in!' Mr. Montmorency called, as I pushed the door curtain away. He got up and seized me by the hand. 'Have a seat. Move over there, Mr. Whimble. Cigar? Real Havana. Won't find them in England, eh? Benedictine, Curaзao, or brandy? Some Kummel, perhaps? Or a flash of the old starboard light?'
'Benedictine will do nicely,' I said. I sat down between Whimble and Hornbeam, while Mr. Montmorency lit my cigar. He was a lean, brown man with a brisk black moustache, dressed in a crisp linen suit. He was an office-wallah, and therefore formally despised; but he was secretly respected as an important and dangerous man in the lives of everyone who depended on the Fathom Line for their pay. Beneath the sunburnt hearty crust was a sharp brain eager to send damning cables to St. Mary Axe, where a few words of code could hold up a man's promotion for ten years or tip him back into the uncertain currents of the shipping pool. Even Captain Hogg was affable to Mr. Montmorency.
'Right, gentlemen,' Mr. Montmorency went on forcefully. 'I have asked you up here to-day for a particular reason, apart from having the pleasure of meeting you. Captain Hogg assures me, I am glad to say, that he thinks highly of your services under his command.'
'A very happy ship,' Captain Hogg declared. He swallowed half a tumbler of Benedictine and glared at the rest of us in defiance of contradiction.
'I am sure it is, Captain. Now, gentlemen, I am going to talk to you on a most serious topic. It is British Prestige.' He took on his smartest Chamber of Commerce manner. 'It is hardly necessary for me to trace the course of events in this bustling sub-continent since the cessation of hostilities-hostilities, gentlemen, in which the Company we represent suffered as grievously as any-but you will, I am sure, all appreciate that the interest of our Motherland in its affairs has increased rather than diminished, though in the face of severe and sometimes to us inexplicable, opposition. Some more Benedictine, Captain?'
'Thank you, Mr. Montmorency.'
'Pass the bottle round, gentlemen. As I was saying. The tail of the British lion has been severely put out of joint…'
He went on about the Old Red Duster, Free Trade, the Socialists, Nationalization, Hard Times, the necessity to pull together, put our shoulders to the wheel, steer a straight course, and not rock the boat. All of us were hazily wondering where the speech was leading him and uneasily contemplating our own guilty consciences. I nervously calculated the turnover in Easter's dockside pharmaceutical dealings, Hornbeam thought anxiously about his stevedores' presents, and Whimble was wondering how to account for the ham and two cases of tinned pears that had somehow vanished between Santos and the River Plate. But, if these skeletons were visible to the penetrating eye of Mr. Montmorency, he was not going to mention it. I suddenly realized he was saying…there will, of course, be a running buffet and the best we can do in the way of drinks. It will give the British colony here a bit of an outing, reassure the local businessmen, send up the prestige of the Line, and, in a small way, that of the Old Country. Besides, gentlemen, it will fittingly usher in the New Year. Any comments?'
McDougall, who had fallen asleep, woke up at the words 'New Year' and blew his nose loudly.
'A very generous offer,' Captain Hogg growled. 'On behalf of my officers and crew, I should like to express my gratitude to the management.'
'Thank you, Captain. Now, gentlemen, you are the senior officers. You know my plans, and I expect you to make it a success. This dance on shipboard must be remembered in Buenos Aires as one of the events of the season.'
A dance on shipboard…I saw at once Tissot's painting-matchwood decks, fragile rails, graceful bright brasswork; summery officers with downy whiskers; in gold and blue and white; clean sailors, contented bandsmen, delicate ladies in sprays of frills; frail parasols pirouetting beneath a canopy of the majestic ensigns of half a dozen now forgotten empires…Into this they were going to turn the Lotus, tied up by a meat works.
The news of the New Year's Eve Dance fell upon the ship's company like a heavy breaker on the beach, overwhelming the minor ripples already set up by our misfortunes in the Saratoga the previous night. Reactions to the party differed sharply. Easter was frankly disgusted.
'I ask you!' he said, coming into my cabin and tossing an armful of my clean laundry peevishly on the bunk. 'What a lash-up! Fags, fairy-lights, and ladies' lavatories! Cor! I dunno what they think this hooker is. The _Queen Mary_ isn't in it.'
'Surely, Easter, after your experience on the transatlantic boats you would welcome a touch of the atmosphere of a large liner?'
'What, on this old tramp? First-class smoke-room now, that's different. All the nobs in there getting stinko, not noticing you rook 'em on the measure. And slipping you a quid or two to show 'em the way to some young bit's cabin-discreet like. What are we going to get on this old tub? Crowd of shore-wallahs looking for free booze, that's what. Fat lot of good that is!'
'You may be able to interest some of them in the three-card trick.'
He brigh
tened a little. 'I might, that, Doctor. But there ain't no flies on them round these parts.'
Trail was ecstatic. 'Have you seen this, Doc?' he called to me the next day, waving a sheet of typewritten paper. 'Lists of guests. Take a dekko. Don't bother with this lot, Ambassador, Bishop, and so on, asked but not able to come…Look here-Mister and Missus _and daughter._ Here _again-_and daughters._ All the way down-_Miss, Miss, Miss. Lovely grub! The ship'll be like a bloody harem by eight bells!'
'I don't think you ought to get over-excited, Three-o. The Misses are probably elderly ladies, pillars of the Mission, and the daughters will most likely be still in short frocks. In any event, you can be sure they'll be kept under strict supervision by their watchful parents on a ship like this.'
'Steady on, Doc! There's bound to be some nice bits of crumpet among them. I think I know this one down here, anyway. Used to work in the Company's offices on Corrientes.' He rubbed his hands. 'It's going to be a Happy New Year, and no mistake.'
Hornbeam was less enthusiastic. 'More work for the bloody Mate,' he said. 'Half the bunting's gone mouldy and the Bos'n flogged the canvas awnings in the Canaries last trip. How the hell can I get the boatdeck holystoned and painted in three days? I bet we're short of Scotch homeward bound on the strength of it, too.'
A state of despair settled on Whimble. The greater part of the preparations fell to him, and he was expected to account for everything issued from his stores from a crate of Scotch to a jar of Maraschino cherries. Tablecloths, fruit bowls, glasses, and silver came from half-forgotten straw nests in dusty crates stowed under hundredweights of flour, rice, tinned vegetables, and a case of Gordon's gin he had lost three voyages ago and had been anxiously cooking the bar books to replace ever since.
'Oh dear, oh dear,' he said, coming out of the store-room with his shirt stuck to his chest with sweat. 'Balloons they want now! Did you ever hear of it? I don't know what the office will say when we get home!'
The balloons were a whim of Captain Hogg's; he had taken an enthusiastic and forceful interest in the dance, and spent most of the day pacing up and down the boatdeck rearranging the deck furnishings and decorations.
'Mr. Whimble!' he shouted frequently. 'Mr. Whimble! Where the devil are you? I think the buffet would be better on the port side. Not so many flies. Get it changed over. What's happened to Mr. Hornbeam? Bos'n, take down number three awning and rig it abaft the funnel so the holes won't show. Mr. Trail, are you supposed to be in charge of lifeboats?'
'Yes, sir.'
'You aren't fit to sail a toy boat on a paddling pool. Get those ropes stowed properly.'
'Aye aye, sir.'
'Doctor!'
'Sir?'
'Flies, Doctor. The bluebottles from the meat works. They are a sanitary problem, are they not?'
'Yes, sir. Included in the syllabus for the examination in Public Health.'
'You are responsible for them. I don't want a damn fly on my ship by to-morrow night. Understand?'
'It's rather a tall order, sir.'
'That's your look out. Get some insect killer from Mr. Hornbeam. I don't care how you go about it, but there aren't to be any flies.'
'Very good, sir.'
I could find only enough insecticide for one spray-gun, and this I gave to Easter with instructions to pump it vigorously round the Captain every time he stepped on to the deck. This seemed to satisfy him. He left me alone until the evening before the party, when he called a conference of officers in his cabin.
'This is going to be a damn good party,' he began sternly. 'The office expects everyone to enjoy themselves, and it's bloody well up to you to see they do. Get me? Now listen to this.' He picked up a sheet of paper from the desk. 'These are the Master's orders for to-morrow night. One: uniform. Clean number tens, with correct epaulettes and white shoes. Collars to be correctly buttoned up.' He glared at McDougall, who came to supper comfortably in carpet slippers, with the high collar of his jacket wide enough apart to allow the dragon tattooed on his chest to peep coyly over his second brass button. 'Doctor, you will wear white ducks, white shirt, black tie.'
'And Company's Regulation Cap, sir?'
'If necessary. Two: Guests are to be met at the head of the gangway by Master and senior officers. See the quartermaster's in uniform and sober, Mr. Hornbeam.'
'Aye aye, sir.'
'Three: No ladies are on any account to be entertained in officers' cabins, or elsewhere than on the portions of the boatdeck assigned for that purpose.'
'There goes Trail's evening,' I whispered to Hornbeam.
'Four: All alcoholic liquors on board to be placed under seal at noon to-morrow and no such liquors to be served to any member of the ship's company before the arrival of guests at ten o'clock to-morrow night. Five: All shore leave stopped from noon to-morrow. Six: All members of ship's company to remain decent and sober throughout to-morrow night. My ship is on show, gentlemen. Understand?'
We murmured acceptance of the terms.
'The music will be provided by a band from one of the English clubs,' Captain Hogg continued. 'Get the Sparks to jack up the amplifying system in case we have to play records, Mr. Hornbeam. Have you been through the ship's record library, Mr. Whimble?'
'They seem to be sort of operas and stuff, sir.'
'Capital! I like a bit of opera. Right, gentlemen. Oh, Doctor, I've put that man of yours in charge of the bar.'
'Who? Easter?'
'Yes. Strikes me as a reliable honest sort of fellow.'
I swallowed. I felt any opinion of mine would spoil the contentment of both of them.
'Very well. Conference dismissed.'
As we went down the companionway together I said to McDougall 'The prohibition order's going to delay you chaps getting Hogmanay away to a good start.'
He dropped a red eyelid over a crafty eye.
'It'ud take more than yon pipsqueak to stand in a Scot's way on Hogmanay, lad. Come along to my cabin when you've finished yer tea to-morrow. We'll find you a dram or two from somewhere.'
Chapter Fifteen
I was called from my shower at eight the next evening to put half a dozen stitches in the forehead of a fireman who had fallen down the stokehold ladder. For this reason I was the only officer who arrived on deck to greet the guests sober. Captain Hogg's orders had been punctiliously obeyed, except for the one impounding the ship's supply of liquor; since tea-time Whimble had been poking his head in his locker like a nervous ostrich in a perilous desert, in the Chief Engineer's cabin Scots accents rawed under the sting of neat whisky, Hornbeam and the Mates poured gin from the water-bottles above their basins, and Captain Hogg himself had been entertaining Mr. Montmorency and his sleek Argentine wife.
The boatdeck of the Lotus looked surprisingly attractive. Fairy-lights shone on the fresh white chalk spread over the scrubbed deck, ensigns and signal flags lined the rails and obliterated the stark Frigorifico, and on the long tables garnished with blazing Argentine flowers glass and linen fell pleasingly and promisingly on the eye. The band-three Argentines with piano, guitar, and drums was seriously tuning up behind the ensign of the Commonwealth of Australia. At the head of the gangway, which was enlivened with bunting and a string of bulbs, a quartermaster stood nervously in white matelot's rig; stewards in shining jackets stood with silver trays and serviettes between the fresh-painted ventilators; behind the bar was Easter, with an expression of disarming honesty on his face that suggested a bishop going through the Dover customs with two bottles of brandy in his gyp.
Besides the quartermaster the ship's officers-in clean white number tens, white shoes, correct epaulettes, collar fully buttoned up-stood greeting the guests with great charm and affability. To me it seemed that the decorum of my shipmates had a certain brittleness about it, a nervous overemphasis. This was noticeable in the way the Chief Engineer tenaciously kissed the hands of the ladies; the hesitation with which Whimble brought a match to a guest's cigarette; Hornbeam's roar of laughter; Trail, openmouthed, mentally
stripping every woman under forty stepping off the gangway; and the abandon with which Captain Hogg was pinching Mrs. Montmorency's bottom.
I felt a tug at my elbow. It was Easter leaning across the bar, holding out a long glass of brownish fluid.
'Best respects, Doctor,' he said hoarsely. 'This is the stuff I'm making up for me and my mates.'
'What is it?'
'Little cocktail I invented on the Western run. I calls it "Fire Alarm." '
'Thank you, Easter. I fancy I have some leeway to make up.'
The guests seemed to be shippers and senior Fathom Line employees who knew each other and Mr. Montmorency well, and were therefore relieved of the cumbrance of social chatter while getting down to the free drinks and lobster patties. As I was not in uniform no one bothered to talk to me, and I was content to stay in the shade of a ventilator by the bar, smoke the ship's cigarettes, drink Fire Alarms, and leave the entertaining to my companions.
'Chй, un cigarillo por favor.'
A slim brunette with incandescent eyes and teeth stood in front of me.
'I beg your pardon?'
'Oh, don't you speak Spanish? I only want a cigarette.'
I handed her one from my own tin.
'Thanks. You work in the meat-works too, do you?'
I was hurt. The Lotus may have been a rusting old-fashioned tramp, but that night I was proud of her.
'Not a bit. I'm one of the officers.'
'What of this old tub? You look too respectable. Why aren't you dressed up?'
'I am the doctor,' I explained stiffly.
Her eyes instantly shone brighter. 'Well, what do you know? I get the most crippling pain in my back.'
I saw at once that I had committed a social error. During my spell as a general practitioner I had learned that members of the public meeting a doctor socially believe they can entertain him only by briskly trotting out an account of their illnesses. When introduced to the bank manager they do not immediately start talking about their overdrafts, and on shaking hands with the local J.P. they are not compelled to discuss the number of times they have been summonsed. But they firmly hold the idea that the doctor can be diverted for half-hours at a time by details of their symptoms, or even those of far-away relatives and dead acquaintances.
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