Read Cherry Ames 09 Cruise Nurse Online
Authors: Helen Wells
Cherry Ames 09 Cruise Nurse (6 page)
“Oh, jimminy, I forgot.” He handed her two sheets of typewritten pages. “Doc told me to give you this fi rst thing.”
The pages were headed: “Duties of a Ship Nurse.” Cherry scanned them hurriedly, then decided to read the instructions carefully back in her own cabin.
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“It’s a lot of hokum,” Ziggy said gruffl y. “No swimming-pool privileges for either you or Doc. What’s the matter with the powers that be? One would think you two, the cleanest people aboard ship, might contaminate the water. Naturally the crew doesn’t expect, or
want,
to mingle with the passengers any more than they have to. But you and Doc are professional people. Passengers ought to consider themselves lucky if you gave ‘em a little of your spare time.”
Cherry gulped, thinking of Charlie’s Christmas present. But she wasn’t going to be able to wear that lovely American-beauty suit in the glamorous outdoor, tiled pool after all.
Then she laughed and said, “There’ll be plenty of time for swimming when we’re in port.”
“Not so much,” Ziggy told her. “Look at Rule Four.” He pointed a stubby fi nger at the fi rst page of her instructions, quoting by heart:
“When in port the ship’s nurse is never to go ashore without fi rst obtaining permission from the ship’s surgeon. The nurse and ship’s surgeon may not have shore leave at the same time.”
Cherry couldn’t help giggling. It sounded like old times.
“Well,” Ziggy said with relief, “I’m glad you don’t seem to mind the red tape too much. But maybe you won’t feel like laughing when you read Rule Five.” Cherry read it swiftly. “In foreign ports the nurse is to report aboard ship and in uniform to the surgeon at least one full hour before the scheduled sailing time.”
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She refused to allow these restrictions to depress her.
“Dr. Monroe’s just naturally nice,” she told Ziggy. “And I know he’ll he more than fair. He’ll give me plenty of shore leave. After all, you can only do just so much sightseeing. And I can’t do a lot of shopping. I’ve already spent most of my money on Christmas presents.”
“You’re a good sport,” Ziggy said approvingly. “Come on. I’ll show you the dispensary on B deck. Then we’ll go up to my offi ce on A deck. We keep the medical refrigerator in there. You’ll want to be able to locate quickly, the penicillin and other drugs that deteriorate unless kept on ice. You’ll also need ice cubes for ice bags once in a while.”
After a quick inventory of the dispensary, Cherry was satisfi ed that the ship was adequately supplied with medication, gauze, bandages, etc. Then Ziggy escorted her to the purser’s offi ce.
He unlocked the door and then sucked in his breath sharply as he moved inside. “The safe!” Cherry heard him say. “It’s been broken into.”
Cherry peered around his broad back. The door of the little safe gaped open, and the fl oor around it was littered with papers and legal-looking envelopes!
Ziggy was already down on his hands and knees, checking the rifl ed contents of the safe’s drawers.
Cherry stood uncertainly watching him. Should she quietly go away or offer to help?
“Somebody awfully smart pulled this job,” Ziggy muttered. “Somebody who knew I’d be down in sick bay for more than an hour, safely out of his way. Some -
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body who knows how to pick locks; somebody mighty familiar with safe combinations. Somebody smart enough to guess we always set this combination to cor-respond with our sailing dates. This one,” he explained in an undertone, more to himself than to Cherry, “was set for one-o-two-o-two-two: the twenty-second day of the twelfth month, you see.”
Cherry couldn’t help refl ecting that Waidler might well know that the safe combination was set to cor-respond with the ship’s sailing date. He had also heard Dr. Monroe order Cherry to sick bay for an emergency operation. And the disagreeable steward could have counted on the purser being called on to assist as the pharmacist’s mate.
Hastily Cherry quieted her suspicions. It wasn’t fair to suspect Waidler simply because he had been rude to her. Dozens of passengers and other stewards might have overheard Dr. Monroe telling Cherry of the accident. Any member of the crew would have known the purser would be out of his offi ce then, too.
A passenger familiar with shipboard procedure would have known the purser would be called on to assist at the operation.
Ziggy suddenly straightened up. He turned around to Cherry, the expression on his face one of complete baffl ement.
“Well, I’ll be tied to the mast before the skipper!” he exploded. “Not a single, solitary thing has been taken.
And let me tell you, Miss Cherry, there’s enough jewelry in that drawer alone to buy and sell this ship!”
ziggy, still muttering to himself in bewilderment, replaced the contents of the safe. “I don’t get it, Miss Cherry,” he kept saying. “Who would want to go to all the trouble of breaking into the safe and then go off without taking even a gold-plated pin?”
He reset the dial with a new combination and handed Cherry a duplicate key to his offi ce. He also gave her a key to the outside door of the dispensary and another one for her own offi ce.
“I’ve got to go and report to the master,” he said.
“But you might take a look through the refrigerator while I’m gone. If you need anything like canned juices you want kept chilled, Waidler will get ‘em for you.”
He hurried away. Cherry checked the contents of the refrigerator, saw that it was well stocked and that all the ice trays were fi lled.
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Then carefully locking the door behind her, she went down to her cabin, wondering who had broken into the safe. And why. Before unpacking her bag, she carefully read her instructions. Cherry noticed with relief that in general the duties of a ship’s nurse were very similar to those of a nurse connected with a hospital, a clinic, or a doctor’s offi ce.
In a hospital nurses ate at stated times. If they were late to meals, they went without. On board ship she was to eat half an hour before the passengers.
In a hospital nurses were not allowed to eat in the wards. On a ship, apparently, the nurse did not eat in the big dining room that ran amidships completely through from port to starboard. She would eat in the small, staff grill. But that was where Dr. Monroe would have his meals too.
Cherry couldn’t help hoping that one of her “duties” would be sitting at the same table with the ship’s surgeon. As though in answer to her question, someone tapped on the door. It was Dr. Kirk Monroe.
“Aren’t you starving?” he asked. “We missed lunch, but I ordered a snack sent up to the grill. It’s waiting for us now. Soup and sandwiches and cake.” He smiled at her trim, uniformed fi gure. “You don’t look as though you had to diet.”
Cherry grinned, pleased at the implied compliment.
“It’s a good thing I don’t. I’m ravenous practically all the time.”
They strolled up two fl ights of stairs to the promenade deck. Cherry discovered with pleasure that 50
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the staff dining room was a cozy little grill, decorated informally but attractively with a red-and-gold color scheme.
“Sometimes passengers eat in here,” Dr. Monroe said. “Mostly children with their mothers or nurses.
That’s why we have to show up half an hour ahead of time.”
Cherry had not realized how hungry she was until she tasted the delicious cream of asparagus soup. The chicken sandwiches were delicious too.
“When you fi nish your second piece of cake,” Dr. Monroe said, grinning, “I’ll take you on a sightseeing tour of the ship.”
“But what about our patient?” Cherry asked. “I didn’t like leaving him alone with that boy while he was still anesthetized. But,” she fi nished, her eyes twinkling as she quoted Rule 9 word for word:
“When in doubt the ship’s nurse is always to be guided by the ship’s surgeon. She receives her orders directly from him, and must never assume any responsibility except at his direction.”
The young physician laughed. “That’s right, Miss Cherry Ames. I’m your boss. And Rick is completely trustworthy. He’s had some orderly experience in different hospitals in New York and during the war he was a corpsman with the Marines.”
“I know,” Cherry said, “but still—”
“Relax, Nurse,” Dr. Monroe interrupted, pretending to be stern. “I looked in on Bill before I came to invite you to lunch. He’s conscious and quite comfortable,
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reading a comic book, believe it or not. The bell beside his bunk rings in the purser’s offi ce, as well as in yours and mine. Ziggy and Rick will take turns keeping an eye on him from now on. Except for routine checks of his temperature, pulse, and respiration, you can pretty much dismiss that patient from your mind. We’ll run into seasickness tonight as we approach Hatteras.
There’s a storm brewing and if the seas are very rough you may not get much sleep. As a precaution, I’d like you to take a nap this afternoon and rest and relax as much as possible in-between times. A tired nurse is apt to be cranky, and one of the best cures for seasickness is a calm, cheerful attitude.”
Cherry nodded. “Outside of being calm and cheerful, what do I do for seasick passengers?” For answer Dr. Monroe reached into his pocket and produced a small package bearing the label of a well-known pharmaceutical house. He dumped two tiny pieces of chewing gum on the tablecloth. “These contain mostly atropine to relieve the spasms and pheno-barbital to quiet the nerves.” He pushed back his chair and stood up. “Let’s go and tour the ship.” The grill where the staff was served meals was right off the main dining room on the promenade deck.
Cherry stared in wonder at the tall columns and wide casement windows.
“That dome,” Dr. Monroe said, pointing to the high ceiling, “rolls back, opening to the sky. All very
al
fresco.”
“And glamorous,” Cherry said, awed.
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They wandered aft to the little night club that opened onto the veranda above the beach deck and the pool.
Cherry saw that the colorful murals on the walls were scenes of foreign places they would visit en route. An orchestra was tuning up for tea dancing on the highly polished fl oor.
Out on the breeze-swept veranda they looked down at the blue-tiled pool. “Tomorrow night,” Dr. Monroe said,
“it’ll be good and warm. Then they’ll turn on this fl ood-light and the underwater lights. A lot of the passengers spend most of their time in and around the pool.”
“I don’t blame them,” Cherry sighed. “I understand it’s off bounds for us.”
“It certainly is,” Dr. Monroe told her with mock severity. “And don’t ever let me catch you out of uniform except when you’re on shore leave. The Old Man’s very strict about all the proprieties. He has an attack of apoplexy at the slightest breach of shipboard etiquette.
But,” he fi nished with a twinkle in his long gray eyes,
“I imagine your experience as an Army nurse will make it easy for you to conform.”
Cherry told him then about some of her experiences.
It turned out that they had both been stationed in the Pacifi c at the same time, but with different units. It was fun to talk shop with another veteran as they absorbed the quiet, restful charm of the paneled library, the cool informality of the pleasant lounges, the spacious beauty of the Georgian living room. This salon, which ran forward from port to starboard, had tall French windows that led to a palm-fl anked solarium.
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While they were standing there, a petty offi cer came up to them. “Passenger calling for you, Doctor,” he said. “Mrs. Crane, Suite 141-143, B deck. Her little boy came aboard with a cold. She thinks he may be running a fever.”
“There goes my nap,” Cherry thought. Colds at this time of the year were not to be treated lightly. They were often forerunners of infl uenza, laryngitis, croup, and even pneumonia.
The young surgeon’s manner was so professional now that he might just as well have been wearing his white hospital coat. “No need for you to accompany me, Nurse,” he told Cherry, striding across the living room. “I’ll send for you if I need your help.”
“But I’d like to come, Doctor,” she said, trotting along beside him. “I’m pretty good with sick little boys, if I do say so myself.”
They were out in the corridor now and whatever the ship’s surgeon’s reply might have been was drowned in the loud-speaker’s blare:
“Calling Dr. Monroe . . . Dr. Mon—roe. Calling Dr. Monroe . . .”
So Cherry went along anyway. In a few minutes a small, fragile-looking woman was admitting them to the luxurious living room of Suite 141-143.
“Oh, Doctor,” she said worriedly, “I’m so glad you came right away. Timmy’s been coughing quite a lot for the past few days, but otherwise he seemed to be completely over his cold. But now he sounds so hoarse and looks so feverish.” She led them into the adjoining 54
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bedroom. “He got away from me for a few minutes after lunch. I found him out on that windy veranda above the pool.”
Cherry’s heart went out to the curly-haired little boy who was propped up against pillows in one of the twin beds. His face was fl ushed and his eyes were slightly glazed, indicating an above-normal temperature.
Dr. Monroe smiled down at him reassuringly before making an examination. “Hello, Timmy. I’m Dr. Monroe and this nice nurse is Miss Cherry Ames.” Timmy’s round face puckered into a grin. “Cherry!” he hooted in a hoarse voice. “That’s not a girl’s name. A cherry is something you eat with pits in it. I swallowed a pit once,” he said proudly. “And I didn’t even have a tummy-ache. I’ve swallowed lots of orange pits,” he went on, boasting. “But Mummy doesn’t know that I swallowed a great big cherry pit once.”