35. CHAPTER XXXV.
VISIT FROM AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE.
We had not been many days ashore, when Doctor Johnson
was espied coming along the Broom Road.
We had heard that he meditated a visit, and suspected what
he was after. Being upon the consul's hands, all our expenses
were of course payable by him in his official capacity; and,
therefore, as a friend of Wilson, and sure of good pay, the
shore doctor had some idea of allowing us to run up a bill with
him. True, it was rather awkward to ask us to take medicines,
which, on board the ship, he told us were not needed. However,
he resolved to put a bold face on the matter, and give us
a call.
His approach was announced by one of the scouts, upon
which some one suggested that we should let him enter, and
then put him in the stocks. But Long Ghost proposed better
sport. What it was, we shall presently see.
Very bland and amiable, Doctor Johnson advanced, and,
resting his cane on the stocks, glanced to right and left, as we
lay before him. “Well, my lads”—he began—“how do you
find yourselves to-day?”
Looking very demure, the men made some rejoinder; and he
went on.
“Those poor fellows I saw the other day—the sick, I mean—
how are they?” and he scrutinized the company. At last, he
singled out one who was assuming a most unearthly appearance,
and remarked, that he looked as if he were extremely ill.
“Yes,” said the sailor dolefully, “I'm afeard, doctor, I'll soon
be losing the number of my mess!” (a sea phrase, for departing
this life) and he closed his eyes, and moaned.
“What does he say?” said Johnson, turning round eagerly.
“Why,” exclaimed Flash Jack, who volunteered as interpreter,
“he means he's going to croak” (die).
“Croak! and what does that mean, applied to a patient?”
“Oh! I understand,” said he, when the word was explained;
and he stepped over the stocks, and felt of the man's pulse.
“What's his name?” he asked, turning this time to old Navy
Bob.
“We calls him Jingling Joe,” replied that worthy.
“Well then, men, you must take good care of poor Joseph;
and I will send him a powder, which must be taken according
to the directions. Some of you know how to read, I presume?”
“That ere young cove does,” replied Bob, pointing toward
the place where I lay, as if he were directing attention to a
sail at sea.
After examining the rest—some of whom were really invalids,
but convalescent, and others only pretending to be laboring under
divers maladies, Johnson turned round, and addressed the party.
“Men,” said he, “if any more of you are ailing, speak up,
and let me know. By order of the consul, I'm to call every
day; so if any of you are at all sick, it's my duty to prescribe
for you. This sudden change from ship fare to shore living,
plays the deuse with you sailors, so be cautious about eating
fruit. Good-day! I'll send you the medicines the first thing
in the morning.”
Now, I am inclined to suspect that with all his want of understanding,
Johnson must have had some idea that we were
quizzing him. Still, that was nothing, so long as it answered
his purpose; and therefore, if he did see through us, he never
showed it.
Sure enough, at the time appointed, along came a native lad
with a small basket of cocoa-nut stalks, filled with powders, pill-boxes,
and vials, each with names and directions written in a
large, round hand. The sailors, one and all, made a snatch at
the collection, under the strange impression that some of the
vials were seasoned with spirits. But, asserting his privilege
as physician, to the first reading of the labels, Doctor Long
Ghost was at last permitted to take possession of the basket.
The first thing lighted upon, was a large vial, labeled—“For
William—rub well in.”
This vial certainly had a spirituous smell; and upon handing
it to the patient, he made a summary internal application of its
contents. The doctor looked aghast.
There was now a mighty commotion. Powders and pills
were voted mere drugs in the market, and the holders of vials
were pronounced lucky dogs. Johnson must have known
enough of sailors to make some of his medicines palatable—
this, at least, Long Ghost suspected. Certain it was, every one
took to the vials; if at all spicy, directions were unheeded,
their contents all going one road.
The largest one of all, quite a bottle indeed, and having a
sort of burnt brandy odor, was labeled—“For Daniel, drink
freely, and until relieved.” This, Black Dan proceeded to do;
and would have made an end of it at once, had not the bottle,
after a hard struggle, been snatched from his hands, and passed
round, like a jovial decanter. The old tar had complained of the
effects of an immoderate eating of fruit.
Upon calling the following morning, our physician found his
precious row of patients reclining behind the stocks, and doing
“as well as could be expected.”
But the pills and powders were found to have been perfectly
inactive: probably because none had been taken. To make
them efficacious, it was suggested that, for the future, a bottle
of Pisco should be sent along with them. According to Flash
Jack's notions, unmitigated medical compounds were but dry
stuff at the best, and needed something good to wash them down.
Thus far, our own M.D., Doctor Long Ghost, after starting
the frolic, had taken no further part in it; but on the physician's
third visit, he took him to one side, and had a private confabulation.
What it was, exactly, we could not tell; but from certain
illustrative signs and gestures, I fancied that he was describing
the symptoms of some mysterious disorganization of
the vitals, which must have come on within the hour. Assisted
by his familiarity with medical terms, he seemed to produce
a marked impression. At last, Johnson went his way, promising
aloud that he would send Long Ghost what he desired.
When the medicine boy came along the following morning,
the doctor was the first to accost him, walking off with a small
purple vial. This time, there was little else in the basket but a
case bottle of the burnt brandy cordial, which, after much
debate, was finally disposed of by some one pouring the contents,
little by little, into the half of a cocoa-nut shell, and so
giving all who desired, a glass. No further medicinal cheer
remaining, the men dispersed.
An hour or two passed, when Flash Jack directed attention
to my long friend, who, since the medicine boy left, had not
been noticed till now. With eyes closed, he was lying behind
the stocks, and Jack was lifting his arm and letting it fall as if
life were extinct. On running up with the rest, I at once connected
the phenomenon with the mysterious vial. Searching
his pocket, I found it, and holding it up, it proved to be laudanum.
Flash Jack, snatching it from my hand in a rapture,
quickly informed all present, what it was; and with much glee,
proposed a nap for the company. Some of them not comprehending
him exactly, the apparently defunct Long Ghost—who
lay so still that I a little suspected the genuineness of his sleep—
was rolled about as an illustration of the virtues of the vial's
contents. The idea tickled every body mightily; and throwing
themselves down, the magic draught was passed from hand to
hand. Thinking that, as a matter of course, they must at once
become insensible, each man, upon taking his sip, fell back,
and closed his eyes.
There was little fear of the result, since the narcotic was
equally distributed. But, curious to see how it would operate,
I raised myself gently after a while, and looked around. It
was about noon, and perfectly still; and as we all daily took
the siesta, I was not much surprised to find every one quiet.
Still, in one or two instances, I thought I detected a little
peeping.
Presently, I heard a footstep, and saw Doctor Johnson approaching.
And perplexed enough did he look at the sight of his prostrate
file of patients, plunged apparently, in such unaccountable
slumbers.
“Daniel,” he cried, at last, punching in the side with his
cane, the individual thus designated—“Daniel, my good fellow,
get up! do you hear?”
But Black Dan was immovable; and he poked the next
sleeper.
“Joseph, Joseph! come, wake up! it's me, Doctor Johnson.”
But Jingling Joe, with mouth open, and eyes shut, was not
to be started.
“Bless my soul!” he exclaimed, with uplifted hands and
cane, “what's got into 'em? I say, men”—he shouted, running
up and down—“come to life, men! what under the sun's the
matter with you?” and he struck the stocks, and bawled with
increased vigor.
At last he paused, folded his hands over the head of his cane,
and steadfastly gazed upon us. The notes of the nasal orches
tra were rising and falling upon his ear, and a new idea suggested
itself.
“Yes, yes; the rascals must have been getting boozy. Well,
it's none of my business—I'll be off;” and off he went.
No sooner was he out of sight, than nearly all started to
their feet, and a hearty laugh ensued.
Like myself, most of them had been watching the event from
under a sly eyelid. By this time, too, Doctor Long Ghost was
as wide awake as any body. What were his reasons for taking
laudanum,—if, indeed, he took any whatever,—is best known to
himself; and, as it is neither mine nor the reader's business,
we will say no more about it.
