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remarked.
    ‘Pray do not be discomforted by him, Doctor. I was his Chief Officer for some years, and I fear I let it undermine my health.’ Captain Makepeace laid a hand on his right hip pocket. ‘The kidneys, you know. I still suffer from the twinges. Perhaps you could suggest something – ?’
    ‘Delighted to give you a thorough going-over once I’m aboard,’ I said quickly, it being clearly important to keep in with the chap.
    ‘Thank you, Doctor. I should be most obliged. It is indeed a great relief to have an enthusiastic young medical man like yourself with us. A great relief. Dr O’Rory, I fear, has been behaving very oddly of late. Of course, he has been at sea for many years.’
    I nodded. It is well known in the profession that prolonged service afloat induces certain irreversible psychological changes.
    ‘He became very interested in the Great Pyramid – all the measurements, you understand. Unless he consulted them he was unable to decide anything at all, from the day to get his hair cut to the prescription for some unfortunate person appearing in his surgery.’
    Captain Makepeace gave a faint smile.
    ‘Of course, I am not so strict at sea as Captain Spratt would suggest. We live in modern times, Doctor. Indeed, I rather encourage my officers to drink with the passengers.’
    ‘Excellent social move, sir.’
    ‘And to pay some little attentions to the unaccompanied young ladies.’
    I nodded. ‘The poor things might get frightfully lonely otherwise.’
    ‘We must make our own fun at sea, you know. Do you like bingo, Doctor? If you wish, you can call out the numbers. Dr O’Rory did, and very witty he was too, until recently he started getting a bit near the knuckle for the ladies.’ We shook hands. ‘I am sure, Doctor, our next voyage will be a particularly happy one.’
    ‘I’m absolutely positive,’ I agreed warmly.
    Thus I appeared up the gangway of the Capricorn Queen before breakfast the following Friday morning, dressed up in as much gold braid as the chap who hails the taxis outside Fortnum’s.
    The Capricorn Queen was a great white thing like a wedding cake with portholes, though as she was tied to Tilbury Docks I’d nothing much to do for the weekend, except sit on the sofa that ran down one side of my cabin like the seat in a second-class railway compartment, smoking duty-free cigarettes and reading Lord Hornblower .
    I hadn’t said a word to Ophelia about my being aboard, because I thought it would come as a nice surprise. Besides, she might have decided to stay at home once she realised we were leaving old Basil on the beach at Blackport. I was, of course, being a simply frightful cad, nipping up the gangway behind the poor chap’s back. But the thought of all that tropical moonlight in store not only shoved the thought into my subconscious, but fairly made me want to go skipping round the deck.
    I spent an impatient few days until they put a match to the boilers, and with a good deal of confusion we edged round to Tilbury landing stage, where passengers are let on by those chaps who handle passports as though they were Christmas cards from the Isolation Hospital. You can imagine I was pretty well jumping with excitement, particularly when I fancied I spotted Ophelia’s legs disappearing up a companion-way. I’d asked the Chief Steward to put a whacking great bunch of roses in her cabin with a little note simply inviting her to cocktails at six with the ship’s doctor, and I could hardly wait to see her face as she opened my cabin door and saw me waiting to mix her first Martini.
    In no time we were on our way to South America, which to start with runs between Plumstead Marshes and Barking Creek. I changed into a clean white collar and polished up my brass buttons. Six o’clock arrived. I sat on the edge of the sofa and wondered exactly what Ophelia would say.
    As it happened, she jolly near fainted.
    ‘Gaston!’ She gave a shriek. ‘What in heaven’s name are you doing