Polly's Southern Cruise

“Never mind who we are,” was Polly’s laughing rejoinder, “but tell us this much: where is Elizabeth, and what is she doing?”

“That I cannot say, my dears, till after Mr. Dalken comes from his daughter’s room. I left him just now about to visit her, then I came in here to see you. I understand she wishes to die without delay.”

This seemed to tickle Polly and Eleanor greatly. They actually exchanged delighted glances, and Eleanor said: “Serves her right.”

“Oh, come,” returned Mrs. Courtney, “don’t say that. The poor child has never had any real example of what is right and good, so how can one expect of her what we do of girls like you and Polly?”

“Well,” said Polly, swinging her feet out of bed, “I believe I am able to sit up and enjoy this visit. The sea must be calming down considerably from the smooth manner in which the yacht is moving.”

But Polly spoke too soon. The moment she tried to stand upon her feet she swayed uncertainly and her head spun around like a top. Mrs. Courtney sprang over and caught her arm and steadied her till she got back to bed. Eleanor giggled unmercifully.

“Better stay put, Poll, till morning. Then we’ll practice before we show off.”

All that night the waves which had caused the pitching and rolling of the vessel kept up a heavy under-swell that made the yacht shudder and tremble uncertainly. At times it seemed as if the great gaping rollers wished to gulp the small craft in one swallow. But inside the comfortable rooms of the yacht, the uncomfortable passengers waited patiently for the heavy seas to quiet down again.

After leaving his daughter’s room, Mr. Dalken went forward to find the First Mate who had said he had graduated from a medical college out west. Having found the man, Mr. Dalken called him by his title of doctor.

“I have a plan to suggest, Dr. Braxton, which ought to cure all our seasick passengers. I want you to visit each one in a professional way and diagnose their conditions. Do not find any one suffering from sea sickness, but find some light cause for their indisposition and be sure and tell them so. I have an idea that the test of changing their minds about the cause of their being in bed will change their physical conditions, too. Will you do this for me? Take your medicine chest and leave each one some melted licorice in water. Tell them to take a tablespoonful of this wonderful tonic every hour – then we’ll see.”

“Why, Mr. Dalken, you would not have me tell these poor people that they are not ill with sea sickness, would you? It would be unkind of us to do that,” objected the poor young man.

“Now listen, my good friend. I’ve heard said, over and over again, that seasickness is mostly due to fear and concern over one’s having it. The pneumogastric nerve acts with the mental condition of the patient – we all know that. And this nerve, it is claimed, is directly affected in a manner to make the ill one think he cannot move, or get up, or eat. I want to cure my friends in a hurry, and I want you to help me cure them. That is real kindness – not unkindness.”

The interested young man asked what more would be required of him, and Mr. Dalken explained. In a short time thereafter, Dr. Braxton called upon his first patient. It happened to be Mr. Fabian.

After using all the usual methods of taking pulse, looking at the tongue, feeling of the heart, and taking the temperature, the young physician said:

“I’m happy to say, Mr. Fabian, that this attack is not a case of sea-sickness at all, but acute comatose condition of the digestive glands. You might have experienced the same illness had you been at home. Now I shall leave you this wonderful remedy to take every hour, and in the morning you will feel fine. Three doses of this ought to put you right as a trivet.”

Mr. Fabian was so glad to hear he had not had an attack of sea-sickness that he thanked the doctor and said he felt sure he would be around in the morning.

Having visited all the sick-abed members of Mr. Dalken’s party, and found one suffering from a slight attack of gastritis, another with rheumatic neurosis of the abdomen, and many other queer complaints that have never been heard of before or since that night, and then having left the great cure-all medicine for each and every one stricken, the willing physician went to report to Mr. Dalken.

CHAPTER IV – THE SECOND DAY OUT

Mr. Dalken enjoyed the joke immensely and hoped it would benefit his friends as he had planned it should. During the night the sea calmed so that by dawn it presented a beautiful surface of small playful waves. Consequently the yacht danced over the waters like a happy nautilus, but the tossing had ceased.

During the night the vessel had made wonderful headway and by breakfast time the Captain said they were opposite Old Point Comfort. The information gave rise to puns, because every member in the party except Elizabeth, presented himself at the table, ready for a hearty meal, but one and all maintained that their improvement was due to Old Point Comfort.

Upon comparing notes of their illnesses, and the dark brown medicine given by the young doctor, the patients found they had been given diluted licorice; Mr. Dalken had visited his daughter several times during the night, and again in the morning, but she complained that he disturbed her rest every time he came in. Therefore he decided not to annoy her until she felt better.

When asked by Mrs. Courtney whether it would be advisable to take a light breakfast to Elizabeth and attend her, Mr. Dalken replied: “Better leave her absolutely alone for a short time. She may recover sooner.”

In spite of ravenous appetites and the temptation of the dainty dishes sent to the breakfast table, the mariners, so recently recovering from the effects of the wild waves of the night before, found a sudden relapse of well remembered conditions the moment any food touched their tongue and palate. Thus the alluring breakfast had to be sent back to the kitchen with regrets.

That day the convalescents, as Mr. Dalken persisted in calling his guests, preferred to keep quiet, amusing themselves with the periodicals liberally provided in the lounging room, or chatting on deck and watching the curling waves against the speeding yacht.

Late in the afternoon, just before tea was served on deck, Elizabeth came from her room, looking very pathetic in spite of the touch of rouge on her cheeks, and color on her lips. Mr. Dalken sprang up to assist her to a chair, but she refused his support with an impatient toss of her head. Consequently, the vessel giving a sudden graceful curve, Elizabeth was thrown head first into Mr. Ashby’s arms.

“My! It’s not often that an old man has such an armful of loveliness tossed him by the generous sea,” laughed Mr. Ashby, as he assisted Elizabeth to her feet. He understood the way to calm a young woman’s chagrin, and compliment her at the same time.

Elizabeth had not heard of the graduate physician’s visits to the other sea sick guests, nor of the dark brown medicine he had prescribed in obedience to Mr. Dalken’s orders. Hence she believed she had been the one who received all the medical attentions and the dose.

“Dear me, I have had such an attack of cerebral neuritis,” commenced she, sighing to attract sympathy. “Unfortunately, this attack came over me from the unusual excitement due to preparing for this cruise. The doctor says I need more rest and a nerve tonic. I never call in such inexperienced doctors at home, but this one seems to know exactly what to do in my case.”

Elizabeth glanced at Mrs. Courtney, then at her father, in order to assure herself that they had comprehended what she had said. Mrs. Courtney seemed to be politely intent upon the girl’s words, and Mr. Dalken smiled lovingly at his daughter. Elizabeth failed to read any suspicion of amusement in their expressions, so she proceeded.

“You know, I never am sea-sick —never! And I wondered if the rest of you would think that my indisposition might be an attack of the unpleasant sensations which generally prostrate inexperienced seafarers. It was rather disconcerting that this attack of nervous trouble should return the first day out at sea.” Elizabeth now glanced around at the faces about her. She felt a bit piqued at the hardly controlled expressions of one or two of them.

Eleanor, with her blunt honesty and impatience with any form of subterfuge, blurted out unexpectedly: “I, too, was indisposed, Elizabeth; but the wise young doctor informed me that I never could be sea-sick – my trouble was eating too much candy, and the volume of water which was playing fast and loose with the yacht. He gave me this dark brown medicine to take, and assured me that the moment the gale subsided my nausea would disappear.”

As Eleanor spoke she took a small bottle from her bag and held it out in plain view of Elizabeth and the others in the amused circle of friends.

Elizabeth looked in dismay, recognized the color of the medicine, then glanced about at the smiling faces of those who also had taken the doctor’s medicine.

“Is this a joke you wish to play on me?” demanded she.

“It wasn’t a joke last night, I can tell you, Elizabeth,” exclaimed Polly, bringing her vial to view and shaking her head deploringly as she studied the brown liquid. “If every one on this ship felt as I did, they’d never have thought of a doctor or medicine, let alone any licorice water.”

The laugh caused by Polly’s admission failed to soothe Elizabeth. She was furious, but managed to demand: “Who of this group was ill?” In this manner she thought to detect the ones who had taken such amusement in fooling their friends.

One after another in the circle admitted the truth, but Mrs. Courtney confessed to having spent her evening with Polly and Eleanor. That left Mr. Dalken alone. He smiled as he said: “Well, I am forced to confess that I am the guilty one. I prescribed the doctor and his doses.”

As Elizabeth could not very well denounce her father for having played this practical joke on his friends as well as on herself, she merely tossed her head and turned her back upon him. He smiled to himself, then caught Polly’s glance which told him she understood the cause of his daughter’s annoyance. Also he read a sympathy in her heart for the misunderstanding so deliberately displayed by the girl.

Fortunately for the situation the boy now came forward and began preparations to serve tea. Having arranged the wicker table in front of Mrs. Courtney, without a look or word to Mrs. Fabian or Mrs. Ashby who were in the circle, he left again to fetch the tea service. Directly behind the well-bred young servant came an uncouth Scandinavian youth carrying a heavy tray of viands.

Mr. Dalken had not seen nor had anything to do with engaging the individuals in the crew on his yacht, as that was part of his Captain’s work. And up to this moment Mr. Dalken had never seen this great overgrown Swede. But the blonde giant had no intentions of being ignored, as he soon made plain.

He planked his tray forcibly upon the table beside the tea service wagon, and then turned to Mr. Dalken. No introduction was needed for him. He was too disturbed to consider aught but his injured feelings.

“Dot tea what yun Shink meks me fer supper, Oi not drink. Oi tek cuffee er Oi go home!” exclaimed he with ire.

Several of the voyagers had been quietly admiring the low-lying banks of soft cirrus clouds, and some had been engaged in absent-mindedly watching the man servant arrange the tea table, when the Swede exploded his complaint in a loud thunderous tone.

Mr. Dalken gave a start. He was too surprised at the unlooked for complaint to control the nervous action. He frowned at the ponderous youth, then waved him away. Turning to the other man he told him to serve; then he followed the wondering Swede down the promenade deck to the culinary quarters.

As Mr. Dalken disappeared to view, Elizabeth smiled a tantalizing smile and remarked, to no one in particular: “Dear me! I cannot understand why Daddy engages such inexperienced servants. He always did neglect important things.”

An ominous silence followed this information from Elizabeth, then Mr. Ashby gayly proposed a diversion which interested his friends till Mr. Dalken rejoined the group.

Not having heard his daughter’s criticism Mr. Dalken reseated himself and smiled as he began: “I investigated the cause of that young chap’s complaint, because I could not very well consent to his walking back home – not on the water, you know. And I discovered a most amusing affair back in the kitchen. Want to hear the tale?”

Every one but Elizabeth signified eagerly a desire to hear the story. She pretended indifference to her father and his experience in the kitchen. But he did not see her face and laughingly began his narrative.

“I learned that the Chef treats the crew with unusual consideration by serving the same quality tea that we drink. That poor Scandinavian lad had never before sailed with a decent crew, it seems. In the past he has been the butt for all the deep-sea sailors who sailed from their Swedish ports on tramp steamers or fishing boats.

“Captain Blake tells me that Jansen is a fine youth and very conscientious, but too blunt for his own good. In his past experiences he has only had the cheapest black coffee served, or a weak sort of bitter drink faintly colored that went by the name of tea. The Captain explained to me that such tea is made from used tea-leaves which are dried by enterprising men and stained with chemicals to produce a brown liquid with a strong flavor. Naturally, he said, such second-hand tea leaves are not any too clean. The driers do not spend time on seeing to it that the leaves are kept free from vermin and dirt. Hence it often happens that sailors find unexpected dregs mixed with their tea leaves in the bottom of the pannikins in which they receive their measure of so-called tea.”