“Well, the complaint, my lad. He is sickening from the terrible depression. It is more than human nature can stand to see one’s fellow-creatures breaking down day by day. There are limits to endurance, and sooner or later every one must break down—except doctors and deputy captains. Now, come on and help me administer medicine. We’ll get it, and then come back here and give poor Marsham the first dose. Come along.”
“But the medicine chest is here,” said Steve.
“Yes, but this is a different medicine. I have some one mixing it, and I persuaded Johannes to take the fireman’s place and keep the furnace going. On with your cap, and come on. Mitts, too, for it’s colder than ever.”
Steve gave one more look at the captain, who lay there stern and calm now, as if sleeping more peacefully, and then followed Mr Handscombe to the engine-room, from which came up the clatter of an iron shovel and the rattle of coals.
“That’s better,” said the doctor, “I’ve roused Johannes up to work. Now let’s go and see if the physic is ready.”
Steve followed again, the doctor carrying a lanthorn along the dark, crackling deck, whose canvas roof and walls glittered with pendent icicles which made it resemble some wonderful grotto, while in the neighbourhood of the engine-room the deck was slippery with the frozen moisture. There was a warm glow of light by the galley, though, and a faint sound from the humming stove was breaking the stillness of the place, while quite a burst of hot light saluted them as the doctor opened the door.
“Well, cook, my physic ready?”
“Yes, sir, gallons of it, as strong as I can make it. But I do want a little help, sir. Can’t you make that boy Watty rouse up? He’d be better here than in his bunk.”
“I’ll try—I mean we’ll try,” said the doctor. “That’s right. One basin now, not much, for the captain; then we’ll come back for the rest. Hah! excellent. Try it, Captain Steve.”
The cook stared, and Steve unwillingly tasted the strong soup.