Surgeon at Sea

There was no Scotch but they gave us the locally distilled whisky, which tasted like an old-fashioned carminative mixture. Trail got into earnest conversation with the girl behind the bar, who came from Lytham St. Anne's, and I sat wondering what the whisky was doing to my gastric lining.

'I've had this place,' Hornbeam said impatiently after a few minutes. 'Let's move on.'

'But we've only just arrived.'

'It's too quiet. Come on, blokes. It's my party, so I can take it anywhere.'

We went to a good many bars. They all offered the same-darkness, sambas, local whisky, and a girl behind the bar who came from some spot comparable to Lytham.

'It's half-past one,' I said to Archer later. 'Doesn't anyone go to sleep in B.A.?'

'Things are only beginning. They go on like this all night.'

'They must be a tougher race than we are. Apart from the hours, they seem to put up with their own whisky.'

Hornbeam was seized with a final inspiration.

'Let's go to the Saratoga, boys,' he announced.

'That's a posh do,' Trail told him dubiously. 'It's an expensive joint, particularly at this hour of the night.'

'Only the best is good enough for us,' Hornbeam insisted. 'Saratoga next stop. I want to see the dancing girls.'

We found a cab and drove down the street to the Saratoga. It was a class above the bars and night clubs we had been to-a small silk-lined place with two bands, a tiny dance floor, and a stage. Hornbeam strode in and demanded a table at the front.

'This is more like it!' he said contentedly. 'I'm fed up with slumming.'

He ordered some champagne.

I looked around me and saw it was certainly more fortunate in its clientele than the other places we had visited. The tone was marred only by our party, in which Hornbeam was now leaning back in his chair, clapping his hands, and demanding 'Bring on the fat women!'

'There aren't any here, are there?' I asked Archer.

'You wait, Doc,' he said. 'Three blokes can't sit down alone anywhere south of Panama without something turning up.'

He was right. A good-looking blonde in a white evening gown sat on the chair beside me.

'You buy me a t'rink, no?' she said.

The waiter had already appeared and brought her a thimbleful of red liquid in a liqueur glass. He also brought a green counter, which he handed to her. This she placed in her handbag.

'I'd better put you wise,' Archer said across the table. 'Out here you buy the coloured water and she gets the commission. If you can last out till four you go home with her buckshee.'

'I don't think I can last out the next ten minutes.'

The girl swallowed her glassful swiftly, like a bad medicine.

'You buy me another t'rink, no?'

The waiter gave her a second glass, and another counter.

'This is going to work out expensive,' I said.

'All on me, Doc,' Hornbeam said grandly. 'Tell her to send her friends over.'

Two more girls appeared and started drinking with the frightening rapidity of their companion. However, we all became very friendly, and Hornbeam ordered some more champagne.

When Trail fell asleep on the table I said, 'Hadn't we better get the bill, Chief? I could do with some sleep myself.'

'Mozo!' Hornbeam demanded. 'Bill, pronto!'

It was given to him immediately, neatly folded on a plate. He scowled at the figures, and began counting notes from his pocket.

'You buy me anot'er t'rink, no?' said the blonde.

'No. The bar's down.'

She got up and walked away.

'Say, Doc,' Hornbeam called. 'Can you lend me five hundred pesos?'

'What!'

'I seem to be a bit short.' Hornbeam spread his notes on the table. He had been carried away by his generosity into a ditch of insolvency.

We searched in our pockets, waking Trail up to join in.

Ninety-eight pesos,' Archer said. 'That's all we can muster.'

Hornbeam looked shiftily over his shoulder. The waiter, with that second sight which waiters have, was aware that some hitch had arisen and threw dark glances at us. Visions of Argentine prisons shimmered before my eyes: I was sure the Buenos Aires police would arrest with the alacrity of their comrades in Santos.

'This is serious,' I said. 'Hasn't anyone got any money at all?'

We searched our pockets again.

Not a centavo,' Trail said. 'I've got a couple of bob though.'

'Someone will have to go back to the ship and raise the wind,' Archer said. 'That's all there is for it. The others will sit here and pretend they're enjoying themselves. We'll toss for who goes.'

We tossed a twenty-centavo piece. I lost.

'Better take the ninety-eight pesos and see if you can get a cab,' Hornbeam said. 'Make it snappy. Ten pound notes will cover it at black-market rates.'

I stood outside in the hot dry air, already feeling the apprehending hand on my shoulder. I saw an empty cab on the other side of the street and leapt towards it.

'Dock Sul,' I said.

But the driver could take me only as far as the rowing boat. I had to cross the river and walk alone across the railway tracks to the ship. I strode breathlessly along the middle of the road, looking behind me more than in front. A cat leapt across my path from shadow to shadow and I yelped. I ran through the dock gates and up the gangway.

The Lotus was dead. The quartermaster was in a chair by the gangway, asleep. Everyone not ashore was in their bunks, wallowing in the deep unhindered unconsciousness of watch-keepers in port.

I thought my best chance was represented by the Chief Engineer. He was lying with his mouth open on top of his bunk.

'Chief!' I called softly. I shook him. 'Chief!'

He stopped snoring and grunted.

'Chief! Wake up!'

He opened his eyes.

'Stop the feed pumps and stand-by all engineers,' he said.

'No Chief! It's the Doc. Can you lend me some money?'

'Money? What for, man? At this hour of night.'

'I'll explain later. But I must have it now. In a hurry.'

'Wait till I put my teeth in, lad.'

He gave me five pound notes. The rest I collected by rousing Whimble, the Second Steward, three or four of the engineers, and Easter.

I ran back to the ferry, crumpling the notes in my hands. I had to walk half a mile up the long road to the City before I found a taxi. When I jumped out I found my expedition had taken the best part of an hour, and the Saratoga was rising to a final burst of activity before closing for the night. I looked in nervously, wondering if my companions had already been extracted by the police, or had generously been allowed to wash dishes in the basement.

Neither of these misfortunes had occurred to them. In my absence they had all drawn a second wind and were enjoying themselves hugely. They had three new girls and another bottle of champagne.

'I've got the money,' I said breathlessly, falling into a chair.'

'Ah, there's the old Doc!' Hornbeam said with surprise. 'Where did you come from?'

'I went to get some money to pay the bill,' I said angrily. 'Don't you remember.'

'That's right,' Archer agreed. 'Good old Doc. Mozo! Bill!'

Another bill was presented. Before they read the figures I knew what was coming.

'That ten quid means five hundred pesos,' Hornbeam said solemnly. 'Then there's this here-have you got any left, Doc?'

I threw him a few peso notes.

'Umm,' he said. 'Looks as if we need about five hundred pesos.'

'Well,' Trail said brightly. 'The Doc had better go back for some more.'

I banged the table.

'No!' I said. 'No, I damn well won't! I don't care if we all go to jail, but I'm not going back to the ship!'

The manager, who had been hovering in the distance like a well-preened vulture, put his head into our group.

'Anything wrong, gentlemen?' he asked. 'Yes,' I said. 'We can't pay the bill.'

I folded my arms and prepared to be arrested with the dignity of an Englishman. 'Unfortunate,' said the manager.

'Bloody unfortunate,' Hornbeam said.

'How much are you gentlemen short? Five hundred pesos, I see. You are seafaring gentlemen, are you not?'