He walked back to the cabin; and the new cook was slowly pushed toward the galley by the second officer, the new A. B., under the same gentle guidance, being conducted back to the forecastle.

Fortunately for the new seamen the weather continued fine, but the heat of the galley was declared by the new cook to be insupportable.  From the other hands they learned that they had been shipped with several others by a resourceful boarding-house master.  The other hands, being men of plain speech, also said that they were brought aboard in a state of beastly and enviable intoxication, and chaffed crudely when the doctor attributed their apparent state of intoxication to drugs.

“You say you’re a doctor?” said the oldest seaman.

“I am,” said Carson, fiercely.

“Wot sort of a doctor are you, if you don’t know when your licker’s been played with, then?” asked the old man, as a grin passed slowly from mouth to mouth.

“I suppose it is because I drink so seldom,” said the doctor, loftily.  “I hardly know the taste of liquor myself, while as for my friend Mr. Thomson, you might almost call him a teetotaler.

“Next door to one,” said the solicitor, who was sewing a patch on his trousers, as he looked up approvingly.

“You might call ’im a sailor, if you liked,” said another seaman, “but that wouldn’t make him one.  All I can say is I never ’ad enough time or money to get in the state you was both in when you come aboard.”

If the forecastle was incredulous, the cabin was worse.  The officers at first took but little notice of them, but feeling their torn and tattered appearance was against them, they put on so many airs and graces to counteract this that flesh and blood could not endure it quietly.  The cook would allude to his friend as Mr. Thomson, while the A. B. would persist in referring, with a most affected utterance, to Dr. Carson.

“Cook!” bawled the skipper one day when they were about a week out.

Dr. Carson, who was peeling potatoes, stepped slowly out of the galley and went toward him.

“You say ‘Sir,’ when you’re spoken to,” said the skipper, fiercely.

The doctor sneered.

“My —–­ if you sneer at me, I’ll knock your head off!” said the other, with a wicked look.

“When you get back to Melbourne,” said the doctor, quietly, “you’ll hear more of this.”

“You’re a couple of pickpockets aping the gentleman,” said the skipper, and he turned to the mate.  “Mr. Mackenzie, what do these two ragamuffins look like?”

“Pickpockets,” said the mate, dutifully.

“It’s a very handy thing,” said the old man, jeeringly, “to have a doctor aboard.  First time I’ve carried a surgeon.”

Mr. Mackenzie guffawed loudly.

“And a solicitor,” said the skipper, gazing darkly at the hapless Harry Thomson, who was cleaning brasswork.  “Handy in case of disputes.  He’s a real sea lawyer. Cook!”