A launch came plunging through the swells, and the deck steward made his rounds requesting the passengers to assemble for medical examination.
Kirk found the Cortlandts ahead of him.
"What's coming off?" he inquired.
"Vaccination," Cortlandt explained, briefly. "They are very particular about disease."
His wife added: "This used to be the worst fever-spot in the world, you know. When we were here five years ago, we saw car-loads of dead people nearly every day. A funeral train was a familiar sight."
"What a pleasant place to spend my vacation!" exclaimed Kirk. "Now if I can rent a room over the morgue and board with the village undertaker, I'll have a nice time."
"Oh, there's no more yellow fever—no sickness at all, in fact," said
Mr. Cortlandt. "Will you go over to Panama City, or will you stay in
Colon?"
"I think I'll remain on the ship; then she can't get away without me," Kirk answered. But when, after taking his turn before the doctors, he explained his desire to the purser, that worthy replied:
"I'm sorry, but you'll have to arrange that with the agent. We make a charge, you know, just like a hotel."
"I'm going to cable my old man for money."