Ship's Surgeon Read Free

would be sick that she started at once!”
    “I’ll get the stewardess to bring more tablets. She’ll soon be all right. I’ve spoken to the doctor and he’ll be coming to see you.”
    “Will I like him?” Deva asked anxiously.
    “I think so.” For the first time Pat thought about the man. “He’s not as old as Dr. Mears or the specialist, but I’d say he’s a first-rate doctor. He has the look and the manner.”
    “Did you like him, Pattie?”
    Pat didn’t answer for a moment; she was still thinking. Did one like or dislike such a man as Dr. Norton? She had a sudden inexplicable conviction that you didn’t; you loved or loathed him. She’d had the same conviction, in milder form, about other doctors, but not until she had known them for a while.
    “I’d trust him,” she said, “and that’s all that matters.”
    “Is he English?”
    “Yes, and he’s interested in you.”
    Deva slowly moved her hand and Pat took it, as she wished. “I’m so glad it was you to come with me, Pattie, that you would leave your brothers and take me home to my father and mother. I am lucky, you see. I have parents, and you and your brothers have none.”
    Lucky ... after all she’d been through! Pat’s eyes misted. “Your parents must be longing to see you. We’ll post them an air letter from Gibraltar.”
    “They are patient, but it must have disappointed them that I was not permitted to fly home. When you write you must tell them I am very well and happy.” Pat nodded. Deva’s good breeding, her acquiescence and courage, were of the East; in a way they made Pat feel humble. She was glad, at that moment, that the steward rapped on the door.
    He brought in half a dozen gorgeous bouquets, a couple of flowering plants encased in polythene, a basket of fruit similarly swathed and a fistful of cables and letters. There were good wishes from a couple of embassies, from Sinhalese diplomats and students who were temporarily resident in London, from friends Deva had made at the nursing home, and even from a couple of English V.I.P.s. Deva’s case had made discreet headlines in the newspapers.
    She listened raptly while Pat read the flowery goodwill messages, implicitly believed every word of them. A chastened Mrs. Lai came into the stateroom. As at the nursing home, the brown-skinned woman wore her straight grey hair combed back into an uncompromising bun, and draped her sari so that it could easily be pulled up over her head whenever she had to leave the cabin.
    Pat said, “I’ve asked for more tablets, Mrs. Lai. Take some as soon as they arrive. My cabin is thirty-two, on B Deck. If you need me, send a steward.”
    “No exercises today?” asked Deva anxiously. “I so want to get strong!”
    Pat smiled at her. “And so you shall, darling. Embarking was enough for today, but we’ll start again tomorrow morning at ten. I’ll look in again later.”
    She went out on deck, breathed in the cold misty atmosphere. Grey sea, a watery grey-blue sky and a faint smudge where the coastline was disappearing. England ... Tim and Keith were back there, cheerfully learning a little and playing football, and perhaps not quite so cheerfully remembering that she was leaving today, for Ceylon and Australia. They were chirpy and absorbed as boys of eleven mostly are, but Tim especially had looked a little odd when she had mentioned Australia. Tim was the more thoughtful one; he was capable of adding the fact that money was tight to the knowledge that Uncle Dan had his own business in Melbourne, and coming up with the right answer. Neither boy had looked very happy when she had told them she would do her utmost to be home before the summer vacation. To them, July had seemed an appallingly long way from early April.
    Pat flicked a wetness from her lashes, turned resolutely and went inside for a coat. Passengers were taking tea in the main lounge, and Pat, glancing cursorily at them through the glass, saw the big man she had noticed at