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used to let me dispose of surplus equipment and stores on the coast, if I could. Penicillin and such like, that ain’t got long to go before it’s U.S. That be all right with you, Doctor? Dr Flowerday and I used to have an understanding about the proceeds.’
    ‘I think we shall have to consider that later.’
    ‘Very good, Doctor. There’s one of the crew sick in his cabin.’
    ‘Then why the devil didn’t you tell me before? Instead of fooling around with all these damn card tricks?’
    ‘There ain’t no hurry, Doctor. It’s only Chippy. The Carpenter.’
    ‘What’s the matter with him?’
    ‘He’s having one of his turns.’
    I was suspicious. A diagnosis of the turns, to which over half of the middle-aged population of the country seems liable, can represent any condition from attacks of flatulence to full-blown epileptic fits.
    ‘We’d better go and see him at once.’
    ‘Very good, Doctor.’
    I followed Easter aft, to the crew’s accommodation in the poop. We went up an iron ladder to a door with CARPENTER AND LAMPTRIMMER Stencilled over it. It was a bleak little cabin, with green-painted steel bulkheads and a couple of metal bunks one above the other. The only decoration was a photograph of an oblong tombstone with’ Mother’s Grave’ written underneath it.
    On the top bunk was the patient, huddled under a grey ship’s blanket. I gave him a shake. A head poked out at me, and I recognized the man with the lamp I had met at the top of the gangway. He needed a shave, there was dried saliva at the corners of his mouth, and his eyes looked like a couple of cherries on a blancmange.
    ‘Aghurrr!’ he said.
    ‘Now what’s the trouble, my man?’ I started briskly.
    He disregarded me. His eyes were on something else in the cabin, behind me. He pointed shakily to the corner.
    ‘Get away you bastards!’ he yelled.
    I jumped.
    ‘Now don’t get excited ...’I said nervously.
    He crouched into a corner of the bunk, pulling the blanket tightly round him.
    ‘Get away!’ he screamed.’ Get away from me!’
    He brushed something from the bunk rail.
    ‘What is it?’ I asked.’ What’s the trouble?’
    The man started muttering, so that I had to lean closely over him to hear.
    ‘It’s them dogs,’ he said. ‘Bloody great Alsatians. Bloody great green ones. Look! Five of the bastards!’
    I turned sharply round to Easter.
    ‘This man has got D.T.s,‘ I announced.
    ‘Ho, yes,’ Easter said casually, not shifting from the doorway.’ Been having them for years. Long as I can remember, anyway.’
    ‘But we must do something about it! I hope you realize this is a serious condition? You seem to treat it very lightly.’
    ‘He always gets ‘em about this part of the trip. He’ll be as right as rain for weeks now. Been on the booze since we sailed. Says it makes him sad leaving Liverpool.’
    The patient rattled the bunk.
    ‘Get your paws orf of my face!’ he yelled.
    ‘If I might make so bold, Doctor,’ Easter said, still leaning on the door,’ I would say this was an occasion for the medical comforts.’
    ‘Medical comforts? What on earth are you talking about?’
    ‘Bottle of brandy,’ he explained.’ It’s issued buckshee, like, for the hospital. You can get another from the Chief Steward if you indent for it.’
    ‘But I haven’t seen anything of this brandy.’
    ‘I usually keeps it in my cabin, Doctor. Dr Flowerday and I had an understanding about it.’
    ‘Is there any left?’
    ‘Almost half, Doctor,’ he said proudly.’ Dr Flowerday used to give him a glassful and talk to him, gentle like, as if he was a baby. Worked like a charm. Shall I fetch the bottle?’
    ‘Here they come again!’ the patient shouted.
    ‘Perhaps you’d better,’ I said.
    I gave him a tumbler of brandy and explained that the five green Alsatians were not really present, like a nurse soothing a night-scared child. After a couple of glasses and half an hour’s persuasion I had reduced the