“But you get lots of time, sir, for natural history and fishing and shooting.”
“Not ‘lots of time,’ sir, as you term it, but some time certainly; and what is that but work in the cause of science? And look here, Mr Roberts, whenever I do get an opportunity for going ashore shooting or botanising, or have a boat out for fishing or dredging, do I not invariably enlist the services of you or Mr Murray?”
“Hear, hear!” cried the latter, in the most parliamentary way.
“Thank you, Mr Murray,” said the doctor. “I shall not forget this.”
“Don’t you believe him, doctor,” cried Roberts. “He doesn’t mean it. He’s only currying favour.”
“Nothing of the kind, sir,” said the doctor sharply. “I flatter myself that I understand Mr Murray better than you do, sir. I understand his temperament quite as well as I do yours, sir, which is atrabilious.”
“Eh?” exclaimed Roberts. “What’s that, sir?”
“Black bilious, sir, if you really don’t know. I have studied your temperament, sir, and let me tell you that you would be doing very wisely if you came to me this evening for a little treatment.”
“But I’ve only just got out of your hands, sir,” cried the midshipman, in a voice full of protest.
“That was for the superficial trouble, sir, due to the scorching and singeing. Now it is plain to me that what you went through in that attack upon the blacks’ town has stirred up the secretions of your liver.”