Mrs. Walton and Miss Ranken arrived with Blair and Fullerton, and everybody was soon at ease.  Sir James particularly watched Fullerton, and at last he said to himself, “That fellow’s no humbug.”

The dinner passed in the usual pleasant humdrum style; nobody wanted to shine; that hideous bore, the professional talker, was absent, and the company were content with a little mild talk about Miss Ranken’s seclusion at sea during the early days of the autumn voyage.  The girl said, “Well, never mind, I would go through it all again to see what we saw.  I never knew I was alive before.”

Instinctively the ladies refrained from touching on the business which they knew to be nearest the men’s minds, and they withdrew early.  Then Cassall came right to the point in his usual sharp, undiplomatic way.

“My niece has been telling me a great deal about your Mission, Mr. Fullerton, and she says you want a floating hospital.  I’ve thought about the matter, but I have so few details to go upon that I can neither plan nor reason.  I mean to help if I can, merely because my girl has set her mind on it; but I intend to know exactly where I am going, and how far.  I understand you have twelve thousand men that you wish to influence and help.  How many men go on board one vessel?”

“From five to seven, according to the mode of trawling.”

“That gives you, roughly, say two thousand sail.  Marion tells me you have now about eight thousand patients coming on board your ships yearly.  Now, if you manage to cover the lot, you must attend on a great many more patients.”

“We can only dabble at present.  We have little pottering dispensaries, and our men manage slight cases of accident, but I cannot help feeling that our work is more or less a sham.  People don’t think so, but I want so much that I am discontented.”

Sir James broke in, “Your vessels have to fish, haven’t they?”

“They did at first.  We hope to let them all be clear of the trawl for the future.”

Mr. Cassall looked at Sir James.  “I say, Doctor, how would you like one of your men to operate just after he had been handling fish?  Do they clean the fish, Mr. Fullerton?  They do?  What charming surgeons!”

“We have gone on the principle of trying to do our best with any material.  Our skippers are not first-rate pulpit orators, but we have been obliged to let them preach.  Both their preaching and their surgery have done an incredible amount of good, but we want more.”

“Exactly.  Now, I’m a merchant, Mr. Fullerton, and I know nothing about ships, but I understand your vessels are all sailers.  Is that the proper word?  You depend on the wind entirely.  How would you manage if you took a man on board right up, or down, the North Sea?—­I don’t know which is up and which is down; but, any way, you want to run from one end to the other.  How would you manage if you had a very foul wind after your man got cured?”