“Five of ’em down with it,” he said quietly. “Are you another doctor, sir?”
Without troubling to reply, their visitor jumped on board and went nimbly below, followed by the other two.
“Stand out of the light,” he said brusquely. “Now, my lads, let’s have a look at you.”
He examined them in a state of bewilderment, grunting strangely as the washed-out men submitted to his scrutiny.
“They’ve had the best of cold sponging,” said the skipper, not without a little pride.
“Best of what?” demanded the other.
The skipper told him, drawing back indignantly as the doctor suddenly sat down and burst into a hoarse roar of laughter. The unfeeling noise grated harshly on the sensitive ears of the sick men, and Joe Burrows, raising himself in his bunk, made a feeble attempt to hit him.
“You’ve been sold,” said the doctor, wiping his eyes.
“I don’t take your meaning,” said the skipper with dignity.
“Somebody’s been having a joke with you,” said the doctor. “Get up, you fools; you’ve got about as much small-pox as I have.”