The next morning Doctor Trueman asked Claude to help him at sick
call. "I've got a bunch of sergeants taking temperatures, but
it's too much for one man to oversee. I don't want to ask
anything of those dude officers who sit in there playing poker
all the time. Either they've got no conscience, or they're not
awake to the gravity of the situation."
The Doctor stood on deck in his raincoat, his foot on the rail to
keep his equilibrium, writing on his knee as the long string of
men came up to him. There were more than seventy in the line that
morning, and some of them looked as if they ought to be in a
drier place. Rain beat down on the sea like lead bullets. The old
Anchises floundered from one grey ridge to another, quite alone.
Fog cut off the cheering sight of the sister ships. The doctor
had to leave his post from time to time, when seasickness got the
better of his will. Claude, at his elbow, was noting down names
and temperatures. In the middle of his work he told the sergeants
to manage without him for a few minutes. Down near the end of the
line he had seen one of his own men misconducting himself,
snivelling and crying like a baby,--a fine husky boy of eighteen
who had never given any trouble. Claude made a dash for him and
clapped him on the shoulder.
"If you can't stop that, Bert Fuller, get where you won't be
seen. I don't want all these English stewards standing around to
watch an American soldier cry. I never heard of such a thing!"
"I can't help it, Lieutenant," the boy blubbered. "I've kept it
back just as long as I can. I can't hold in any longer!"
"What's the matter with you? Come over here and sit down on this
box and tell me."
Private Fuller willingly let himself be led, and dropped on the
box. "I'm so sick, Lieutenant!"
"I'll see how sick you are." Claude stuck a thermometer into his
mouth, and while he waited, sent the deck steward to bring a cup
of tea. "Just as I thought, Fuller. You've not half a degree of
fever. You're scared, and that's all. Now drink this tea. I
expect you didn't eat any breakfast."
"No, sir. I can't eat the awful stuff on this boat."
"It is pretty bad. Where are you from?"
"I'm from P-P-Pleasantville, up on the P-P-Platte," the boy
gulped, and his tears began to flow afresh.
"Well, now, what would they think of you, back there? I suppose
they got the band out and made a fuss over you when you went
away, and thought they were sending off a fine soldier. And I've
always thought you'd be a first rate soldier. I guess we'll forget
about this. You feel better already, don't you?"
"Yes, sir. This tastes awful good. I've been so sick to my
stomach, and last night I got pains in my chest. All my crowd is
sick, and you took big Tannhauser, I mean Corporal, away to the
hospital. It looks like we're all going to die out here."
"I know it's a little gloomy. But don't you shame me before these
English stewards."
"I won't do it again, sir," he promised.
When the medical inspection was over, Claude took the Doctor down
to see Fanning, who had been coughing and wheezing all night and
hadn't got out of his berth. The examination was short. The
Doctor knew what was the matter before he put the stethoscope on
him. "It's pneumonia, both lungs," he said when they came out
into the corridor. "I have one case in the hospital that will die
before morning."
"What can you do for him, Doctor?"
"You see how I'm fixed; close onto two hundred men sick, and one
doctor. The medical supplies are wholly inadequate. There's not
castor oil enough on this boat to keep the men clean inside. I'm
using my own drugs, but they won't last through an epidemic like
this. I can't do much for Lieutenant Fanning. You can, though, if
you'll give him the time. You can take better care of him right
here than he could get in the hospital. We haven't an empty bed
there."
Claude found Victor Morse and told him he had better get a berth
in one of the other staterooms. When Victor left with his
belongings, Fanning stared after him. "Is he going?"
"Yes. It's too crowded in here, if you've got to stay in bed."
"Glad of it. His stories are too raw for me. I'm no sissy, but
that fellow's a regular Don Quixote."