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Jack’s face, which he had been keeping determinedly neutral, broke into a smile. “Surgeon is the word we use to describe a ship’s doctor,” he explained. “May I see your commission? Good heavens, it’s entirely hand-written. Yes, acting surgeon,” he said, looking at Stephen with increased admiration. “Acting commissions are typically as a Surgeon’s Mate, you must have wowed him in your interview or you have some fantastic credentials.”
“As we have no surgeon for me to be a mate to, I don’t suppose he had much choice.”
“Eh?”
“I said that as the Roth doesn’t have a surgeon to begin with, there was no one he could appoint me to be the mate of. It is a logical impossibility.”
After a barest second’s pause Jack understood that Stephen had misconstrued the term mate. “My dear sir,” he said, “it is illogical, I do agree, but mate indicates subordinate to in rank. Smaller craft, with smaller crews, typically have only surgeon’s mates to look after them, with no surgeon on board at all. Most of our officers are in fact mates, too - Mister Lorre the carpenter is officially a carpenter’s mate, first class, for instance, and Ms Lund is an electrician’s mate, also first class. And on transport craft such as ours the surgeon’s mates are typically med-school drop outs or burned out RNs, if that. Full surgeons, such as yourself, are professional men and, ha ha, command a greater rate of pay.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yes. One and a half times as much, I believe, plus head money for the number of crew. And prize money, though of course as a transport we shan’t see any of that.”
“But I mean, an appointment as surgeon is a mark of confidence, a good thing?”
“Oh, yes,” said Jack again. “Absolutely.”
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