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“A pleasure to meet you, sir,” said the man on Stephen’s right, wiping his head again with his handkerchief. “My name is Blaine, and I am the purser. I must say I am pleased to see you - normally it takes months for a new surgeon to be appointed. In unrated craft, that is - on liners one of the mates can step in. But when old Mister Gideon died I thought we’d be relying on Merck, with the carpenter for amputations, ha ha ha.” He paused to ladle some soup into his bowl and pass the tureen. “No offense, Mister Lorre, but I expect you’re happier with steel than with flesh and bone.” He smiled at the carpenter, then turned back to Stephen. “Is this your first appointment?”
“No,” said Stephen. “I completed a fellowship at Oxford, in cardiology, having first done my residency as a hospitalist at the Mayo Clinic, and of course a transition year at Columbia, in the United States.”
This was met with a shocked silence. Even Mister Greenstreet froze, his spoon halfway to his open mouth. Eventually Mister Humphries, presuming upon his knowing their surgeon better than anyone else present, asked, “are you a real doctor, then?”
“Yes,” said Stephen.
“Well,” said the purser, “then I am even more pleased to meet you. What a comfort to have a real doctor to look after us. A glass of wine with you, sir.”
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Friday, October 23, 2015
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