days."

The boatswain swore as politely as an oath can be managed.

"I'll come in again later," I said. "Meanwhile keep him in bed."

But on my next visit it was manifest that the wound was not such a
simple affair, for the man's temperature had risen and he was
wandering. He gave tongue to a profusion of oaths, which seemed to be
directed, in the main, against Gray, but also included the boatswain,
raised himself on his arm, and shook his fist in my face, muttering "my
share," and "not a brown less," and something about "blowing the gaff."

It was with difficulty that I completed my ministrations; but I did so,
and gave the boatswain a dose to be given to the wounded man at once
and another four hours later. It was entirely an involuntary omission
on my part that I said nothing of returning.

Nevertheless I did return only two hours later, and just before
midnight. I had had the man removed to a disused cabin, and when I got
there the door was locked. Angrily I went on deck and found the
boatswain.

"Pierce," I said, "the door of the sick-room is locked. What on earth
does this mean? I want to see my patient."

"Oh, he's all right, sir. He went to sleep quite easy. I asked one of
the hands to keep an eye on him, and I suppose he's shut the door. But
it isn't locked."

"But it is," I said angrily.

"The blockhead!" said the boatswain. "I'll get the key for you, sir, if
you'll wait a minute."

But I was not going to wait. I was making for the hatchway when I was
hailed through the darkness by a voice:

"Dr. Phillimore!"

I turned, and little Pye emerged from the blackness.

"I've been trying to get to sleep, but I've got the most awful
neuralgia. I wish you'd give me something for it," said he.

"In a moment," I said. "I've got to see one of the hands, and then----"

"Oh, come, doctor, give us a chance," said Pye. "If you tell me what,
I'll get it myself. Look here, would a dose of chloral do any good?"

"My dear sir," said I drily. "Every man in these days seems to be his
own doctor. Try it, and if it's only satisfactory enough, we'll have a
beautiful post-mortem to-morrow."

"Well," said little Pye, with a return of his native repartee, "it's
precisely because I don't want to be my own doctor that I've come to
you."

That naturally was unanswerable, and I acknowledged the hit by
prescribing for him. Then I went on my way.

The door was open and the boatswain was waiting. He covered a yawn as I