The day before sailing and all the officers had their physicals. First up was Wilde, the tight-lipped one. He answered my questions readily as I interrogated him on his past sailing experiences and asked if he'd had any tropical diseases. A straight no on all of them, I told him he was very lucky and checked him all over. Standing at his back, I put my hands on his throat and asked him to swallow, checking for any glandular problems. A simple auscultation and he was done. Wilde looked somber all the time and I knew he was missing his wife and sons. I wanted to tell him that it was OK for him to come to me with any questions or heart to heart time, but he barely knew me and I thought it was too forward to mention that at our first meeting.
Murdoch was next. A Scot with a wonderful brogue accent, he shook my hand with a grin and sat down opposite me at my desk.
"Any tropical diseases like yellow fever, Rocky Mountain Spotted fever, or malaria?" I asked, pen poised over the clipboard with the questionnaire on it. He'd had a health screen recently, though I had to go over it again. Formalities did not die off, besides something might have changed within the past 8 months.
"No." I checkmarked no on the sheet and appraised Murdoch with my eyes. His family history had sailing in it, though that wasn't a disease. His mother had health issues but everyone else seemed hearty enough. He'd been pretty lucky never to be affected by any tropical diseases and I told him so. He had a somewhat reserved grin and I guessed that there would be a full grin once he was at ease with me. Fortunately for him, I was fairly easy to get along with, depending on who you asked!
"Thanks." the interrogation done, I stood up and checked his heart and lungs. He jokingly attributed this to torture and asked me to tell him when it was over. I checked him for glandular problems in the neck and told him it was done. Murdoch's blue eyes sparkled at me in good humor and I surmised that Lightoller, of which they were shipmates before, might have rubbed off on him some.
"See? I'll bring out the cattle prod later!" he laughed, bid me good day and left. I sat there with a smile for a few minutes and got down to writing my observations.
My door opened up a few minutes later while I was marking chart notes on Murdoch like "pleasant disposition" and "ready sense of humor". A tall bloke with a sharp aquiline nose and beady blue eyes knocked once and entered after I bade him to. He sat down opposite me and took off his hat, giving me a tight little smile as I pulled out a fresh questionnaire. I pulled Murdoch's out and put it in the manila file folder I'd labeled DECK OFFICERS. Putting the file in the drawer of the desk, I slipped the new questionnaire onto the clipboard and secured it into pace while Lightoller looked at my certificate (actually a copy of one of them) I had hung on the wall.
"Mr... Lightoller, is it?" I inked his name at the top of the form and gave him a playful yet professional look, letting him know I wasn't some stuffy graduate who was too serious about my occupation.
"That'd be me," he answered, blue eyes sparkling. "Dr. Van Doren."
I smiled. "Well, let's play 20 questions..." it began. Lightoller answered mine promptly and it went very smoothly.
"Any tropical diseases like yellow fever, Rocky Mountain Spotted fever, or malaria?" I looked at him, my pen paused in midair.
"I had malaria on two separate occasions." his voice was absolute British with a twang of something else that I could not place. Northern, maybe? I had a slight Dutch accent that was hardly noticeable, as my dad was a Londoner.
He gave me the dates and I asked him about his course of treatment.
"Well, the first time it was in the African Mail Service boats," he drawled. "I'd come down with it awful quick and was ill for several days. Some of my mates decided that I had to break a sweat or I would die. They gave me quinine medicine and engulfed me with anything hot so I could break out in a sweat that would be the end of the fever." Lightoller answered me with such nonchalance it was a little disturbing. Then again, having a bad fever and delirium made one oblivious to anything, no wonder why he was speaking as if he wasn't there. His body was, but his mind was somewhere else during his illness.
"How high did your fever get?"
"Oh, about 106."
"Good Lord!" I exclaimed. "I'm surprised you didn't suffer a seizure."
"If I had, I'd wouldn't be able to tell ya, Dr. Van Doren. I was completely delirious by then."
"True. I trust the second time was pretty much the same?"
"Very much so." I made a note of this and checked his lungs and heart, then did the glandular check as well. He tolerated this in good humor much like Murdoch. I was pleased with his disposition towards me and gave him the all clear to resume his duties. Most Christian Scientists didn't take well to doctors and the like, but Lightoller was very different. I suspected that he was liberal in his religion much like I myself was. By liberal, I did not go to church regularly, I only participated when I felt like it and that was it.
Pitman was a breeze to examine and I soon sent him on his way. No illnesses to speak of, his physical exam normal. He was a bit tight lipped, with a lively voice but it didn't seem like he had much to contribute to a conversation. He was a man of few words, yet if I got to know him better, I bet some stories would come out.
Boxhall came in, I played 20 questions with him, checked his bruise, and took his medical history. He'd been a sickly little boy and sailor on and off and I suspected an underlying chronic problem of sorts. There were no ways to diagnostically test him for anything in those days, but I strongly favored the idea that he had a chronic pleurisy.
"Mr. Boxhall, I do suspect you have a chronic pleurisy. Often times your cavity surrounding your lungs, the pleural space, get infected for no reason. It is a weak spot on some people. It can happen because of viruses, bacteria, or sometimes it comes up with no reason whatsoever." I informed him, noting this on the patient record. "You seem to be in good health so I do not think your pleurisy is bothering you now. Please come to see me if you start to feel like it is."
"Yes, doctor," he was soft spoken. "I'm glad you're looking out for me." I smiled and shook his hand as he left.
Lowe was like Lightoller, trying to coax a smile out of me and when I did the glandular neck check, he pretended to choke! What a ham! He was like a little kid at times and with him, I felt well at ease. Lowe must have really liked the ladies because he harped and teased me to no end. Fortunately I had brothers myself and was able to play his game right back at him. He smirked and smiled, then he must have recognized me as one who was worthy enough to play his game, so he relented a bit.
"I really hope that I don't end up with you as a patient, Mr. Lowe," I told him as he was leaving. "I don't know what I'd do. Perhaps God sent you on this ship to punish me!"
Lowe started to laugh and Moody came in next. Moody was second to Boxhall in his good looks, angular face, blue eyes, tanned. He looked like he'd spent his whole life on the deck of a ship and never went in. Moody stood and looked at me until I bade him to sit down. The uniform was becoming of him, though all the officers wore them well. Moody could have been a fashion model and all the girls would be after him, I thought.
"Mr. Moody?" he kissed my hand which almost made me melt. Nobody ever did that anymore!
I went through the usual routine with him, smiled when I found out he could speak Spanish and had spent some time in South America. He had taken off his hat and I saw his brown almost black hair which was most becoming. He was the type of man who could break a few hearts!
"Must be wonderful down there," I noted as I wrote down his history. "the different culture can be really interesting."
"It was," he agreed. "I learned conversational Spanish but I kept slipping in random swear words! Made some horrible awkward conversations!"
I started giggling. "My great grandmother was French and I learned to swear in French before I learned conversational English!"
"Do you speak fluent French?"
"Oui, monsieur." I stood up and checked his vital signs. "I'm going to neck check you for any swollen glands which could lead to a whole host of problems." I put my fingers underneath his jawline and traced his thyroid, telling him to swallow. "Very good." he smiled and watched me as I sat back behind my desk. "You are free to go, Mr. Moody."
"Did I pass?" he joked, standing up.
"Yes you did." Moody laughed and bid good day to me as he left.
The remainder of that day we steamed to Southampton and moored, ready to take on passengers the first thing in the morning. It was a beautiful night out and I didn't want to spend it all inside with my textbooks. Besides they were outdated anyway. I went out and stood at the railing, leaning my arms on it and looking up into the starry sky. I saw Cassiopea, Pegasus, Orion and that was about it. Midwinter to early spring was a great time to look for constellations and I had made it something of a hobby.
"Dr. Van Doren!" someone was saying my name but I was too tired to open up my eyes. I smelled the salty sea air and heard the gentle slapping of the little waves against the hull of the ship. It was comforting in its own way, the noises a ship made had lulled me to sleep. Wait, since when did I fall asleep?
"What's going on here, Mr. Murdoch?" I heard a pair of shoes walk up and stand at my side. I felt the eyes of the two people looking down upon me and I kept my eyes closed until I could figure out how long I'd been asleep for. It couldn't have been more than half an hour!
"I found our doctor like this and I can't seem to wake her up." the Scot answered.
A cold breeze that was sharp and piercing like a knife washed over me and I gasped, opening up my eyes to see Murdoch and Lowe looking at me with concern in their eyes. Lowe took my hands and wrapped them in his, as I'd forgotten to put my gloves on. "You must be freezing!"
"All right, Dr. Van Doren?" I sat up and put my legs on the decking, looking out to see the lights of Southampton had all gone dark. I must have been asleep for about an hour, as the residents usually went to bed around 9. Even the seagulls had stopped chirping.
"Yes, Mr. Murdoch. You guys can call me Katrina, we're off the clock." they helped me up and I pulled out a scarf from my pocket, winding it around my neck. Lowe offered me his arm and I took it gladly, smiling when he rubbed my cold hand cheerfully. Murdoch did the same to my other hand and I was being spoiled at the moment! Never did I dream I would hold their attentions, never mind walking on the deck with them.
"Lovely name." Murdoch complimented me. "So what made you become a doctor?"
"I've been sickly my entire life and in and out of hospitals," I explained. "I already knew so much then, it wasn't a real hassle to get my medical license!"
"So what ailed you, if you don't mind my asking." Lowe added hastily as we passed the gym.
"Not at all. I was susceptible to bronchitis throughout childhood and when I was 17, I became deathly ill with scarlet fever."
"You almost died?" Murdoch took my hand for a moment. "I'm sorry you had to suffer."
"It all turned out OK in the end," I told him. "it was the nudge in the right direction for me to get my license."
"Some things happen like that." Lowe was cheerful, swearing as the wind tried to take his hat off. I laughed and since we were off duty, Murdoch did not reprimand Lowe for his swearing. We gossiped some more and when we reached the officer's quarters, we had to say goodnight. I stripped off my dress and got into my nightgown, spread a flannel sheet on the bed for extra warmth, and was flat out in minutes.
