On The Beach

He went with her obediently. A couple of hours later he was in a bedroom with a blazing log fire, creeping into a warm bed as he shook with a light fever. He lay there infinitely grateful while the shakes subsided, glad to relax and lie staring at the ceiling, listening to the patter of the rain outside. Presently his grazier host brought him a hot whisky and lemon and asked what he wanted to eat, which was nothing.

At about eight o'clock there was the sound of a horse outside, and voices in the rain. Presently the doctor came to him; he had discarded his wet coat, but his jodhpurs and riding boots were dark with rain and steamed a little as he stood by the fire. He was a man of about thirty-five or forty, cheerful and competent.

"Say, Doctor," said the patient, "I'm really sorry they brought you out here on a night like this. There's not a thing wrong with me that a day or two in bed won't cure."

The doctor smiled. "I'm glad to come out to meet you," he said. He took the American's wrist and felt the pulse. "I understand you've been up in the radioactive area."

"Why, yes. But we didn't get exposed."

"You were inside the hull of the submarine all the time?"

"All the time. We had a guy from the C.S.I.R.O. poking Geiger counters at us every day. It's not that doctor."

"Have you had any vomiting, or diarrhoea?"

"None at all. Nor did any of the ship's company."

The doctor put a thermometer into his mouth, and stood feeling his pulse. Presently he withdrew the thermometer. "A hundred and two," he said. "You'd better stay in bed for a bit. How long were you at sea?"

"Fifty-three days."

"And how long submerged?"

"More than half of it."

"Are you very tired?"

The captain thought for a moment. "I might be," he admitted.

"I should say you might. You'd better stay in bed till that temperature goes down, and one full day after that. I'll look in and see you again in a couple of days' time. I think you've only got a dose of flu-there's quite a lot of it about. You'd better not go back to work for at least a week after you get up, and then you ought to take some leave. Can you do that?"

"I'll have to think about it."

They talked a little of the cruise and of conditions at Seattle and in Queensland. Finally the doctor said, "I'll probably look in tomorrow afternoon with one or two things you'd better take. I've got to go to Dandenong; my partner's operating at the hospital and I'm giving the anaesthetic for him. I'll pick up the stuff there and look in on my way home."

"Is it a serious operation?"

"Not too bad. Woman with a growth upon the stomach. She'll be better with it out. Give her a few more years of useful life, anyway."

He went away, and outside the window Dwight heard the backing and curvetting of the horse as the rider got into the saddle, and heard the doctor swear. Then he listened to the diminuendo of the hoofs as they trotted away down the drive in the heavy rain. Presently his door opened, and the girl came in.

"Well," she said, "you've got to stay in bed tomorrow, anyway." She moved to the fire and threw a couple of logs on. "He's nice, isn't he?"

"He's nuts," said the commander.

"Why? Because he's making you stay in bed?"

"Not that. He's operating on a woman at the hospital tomorrow so that she'll have some years of useful life ahead of her."

She laughed. "He would. I've never met anyone so conscientious." She paused. "Daddy's going to make another dam next summer. He's been talking about it for some time, but now he says he's really going to do it. He rang up a chap who has a bulldozer today and booked him to come in as soon as the ground gets hard."

"When will that be?"

"About Christmas time. It really hurts him to see all this rain running away to waste. This place gets pretty dry in the summer."

She took his empty glass from the table by his bed. "Like another hot drink?"

He shook his head. "Not now, honey. I'm fine."

"Like anything to eat?"

He shook his head.

"Like another hot-water bag?"

He shook his head. "I'm fine."

She went away, but in a few minutes she was back again, and this time she carried a long paper parcel in her hand, a parcel with a bulge at the bottom. "I'll leave this, with you, and you can look at it all night."

She put it in a corner of the room, but he raised himself on one elbow. "What's that?" he asked.

She laughed. "I'll give you three guesses and you can see which one's right in the morning."

"I want to see now."

"Tomorrow."

“No-now."

She took the parcel and brought it to him in the bed, and stood watching as he tore off the paper. The Supreme Commander of the U.S. Naval Forces was really just a little boy, she thought.

The Pogo stick lay on the bedclothes in his hands, shining and new. The wooden handle was brightly varnished, the metal step gleaming in red enamel. On the wooden handle was painted in neat red lettering the words HELEN TOWERS.

"Say," he said huskily, "that's, a dandy. I never saw one with the name on it and all. She's going to love that." He raised his eyes. "Where did you get it, honey?"