He pulled a fish bone out of his mouth repentantly.
'There's just one thing, Doc,' he said respectfully. 'Do people often get this appendix taken out twice.'
'Twice? What do you mean?'
'Well, I had it taken out the first time in Birkenhead when I was six…'
I sprang at him and pulled up his shirt. A faint, white two-inch scar. I started to laugh.
'Not operating, Doctor? Why?' Captain Hogg demanded.
'I've charmed it away, sir,' I explained. 'A trick I learnt in infancy from a gypsy.'
We arrived at Santos in the early afternoon. As we slowed down to approach the river mouth between the deep green hills the shore heat hit us like the blast from the engine-room hatchway.
'It'll be nice and cosy alongside,' Easter said gloomily.
We sailed up the greasy river between the rows of ships tied thickly along each bank, the ensign of the United States of Brazil flying in courtesy from our foremast. Hornbeam went to his station forrard, and Archer took the Lamptrimmer and his gang of deckhands aft. The tugs came up, the mooring ropes flew out, and we were pushed into place as neatly as a well-parked car. The gangway rattled down and a section of the rail was pulled away: we had arrived.
But we were still flying the yellow Q flag, indicating we were in quarantine. A troop of stout Brazilian customs and health officials immediately tramped aboard, headed by an important-looking man in a white suit whom I took to be the Doctor.
I saluted.
'Boa dia, senhor,' I said in carefully incubated Portuguese.
He held out his hand.
'Afternoon, old boy,' he replied. 'How's tricks?'
'Very well, thank you.'
'Nothing infectious?'
'No.'
'Haul down the yellow peril, then. Can you let me have a few hundred English cigarettes?'
Once the quarantine flag was down people came aboard like Navy Week visitors on a bank holiday. There were policemen, stevedores, money-changers, ship chandlers, water purveyors, fruit sellers, harbourmasters, launderers-and the agents. The agents were the men in charge of the Fathom Line's business in Santos, and could get any commodity at short notice from five thousand tons of oil to a new bell for the ship's cat. They were a pair of tall genial Englishmen with minds like efficiently arranged shopping lists.
'Hello, Doc,' one said. 'Want any medical stores?'
'Chief Steward's got the list.'
'Good. You've taken over from Flowerday, have you? He was a rum bird. Coming to have a peg?'
'Not just now.'
'Fair enough. By the way, there's some mail for you somewhere.'
I had forgotten that the agents look after the ship's mail. I went out on deck and found most of it had been distributed. All over the ship men were leaning on uncomfortable steel corners reading their letters. I passed the Carpenter, who had several closely-written sheets in his hand and kept saying 'No! It can't be! It can't be!' to himself. I hoped it was nothing serious.
'Coo!' one man shouted. 'I've 'ad a baby!'
'I've 'ad six,' his companion said morosely, not looking up. This nonplussed the new father.
Wot, all at once?' he asked.
I ran into Whimble.
'Letter for you, Doc,' he said. 'I gave it to Easter.'
I suddenly felt excited. I had forgotten England and home in the past three weeks as efficiently as a patient with amnesia. My past seemed a disconnected existence. All at once I felt a letter would be like a familiar face in a big crowd.
I saw Easter leaning on the rail and hurried towards him. I wondered who it was from. Wendy, perhaps? Telling me she was crying over my picture and reading Conrad? From my principal, genially wishing me a good voyage? Or my parents, asking where I'd put the keys of the garage? From old classmates envious of my double release? I didn't care. It was a letter, a letter. Whoever sent it proved the most important thing in the world-I was not forgotten.
I took the envelope from Easter. I couldn't recognize the handwriting. I tried to open it with dignity, but excitedly tore the flap. It said: _'The-Laundry. Dear Sir, If you do not collect your washing within seven days of this date it will be sold to defray charges.'_ I tossed it into the dock. I leant on the rail and looked at the unfamiliar colours, the dirty yellow sheds, the strange un-English mountains in the background with the white road wriggling up them to Sгo Paulo, the dusky lounging men and slim graceful women on the wharfside, the signs in Portuguese, the odd open tramcar behind, the surprising uniforms of the police, the glare of the unaccustomed sun…I realized tardily I was on another side of the world.
