There was a scene that night, after we started, between the Treasure and my brother. It happened thus:
The Enchantress proved to be but an indifferent sailor, and sent for the Doctor. He was just starting to comfort her when the Treasure arrived.
"the treasure's enchantress."
“Ill?” he asked. “Ah, I knew she would be, poor girl; she always is. Tell her to drink a pint of salt water. It’s the only thing. If that fails, tell her to drink another.”
The Doctor immediately showed anger. He said:
“Thanks very much. It saves a medical man such a deal of bother when he has got a chap like you always handy to do the prescriptions. Should you think two pints of salt water would be enough? Hadn’t we better say a bucket of it?”
“You may be nasty, but it’s none the less true that salt water is right,” answered our Treasure. “Just because the thing is a simple, natural remedy, you doctors turn up your noses at it. I know this case better than you do. The girl has often sailed with us. Sea-water is what she wants to steady her. I told her so before dinner.”
The Doctor departed, and when he had gone, I asked the Treasure all about his Enchantress. I said:
“Of course it’s no business of mine, but I’m very interested in your welfare, and might be useful. Where does she live?”