The Snark has been a hospital for months, and I confess that we are getting used to it.At Meringe Lagoon, where we careened and cleaned the Snark's copper, there were times when only one man of us was able to go into the water, while the three white men on the plantation ashore were all down with fever.At the moment of writing this we are lost at sea somewhere northeast of Ysabel and trying vainly to find Lord Howe Island, which is an atoll that cannot be sighted unless one is on top of it.The chronometer has gone wrong.The sun does not shine anyway, nor can I get a star observation at night, and we have had nothing but squalls and rain for days and days.The cook is gone.Nakata, who has been trying to be both cook and cabin boy, is down on his back with fever.
Martin is just up from fever, and going down again.Charmian, whose fever has become periodical, is looking up in her date book to find when the next attack will be.Henry has begun to eat quinine in an expectant mood.And, since my attacks hit me with the suddenness of bludgeon-blows I do not know from moment to moment when I shall be brought down.By a mistake we gave our last flour away to some white men who did not have any flour.We don't know when we'll make land.Our Solomon sores are worse than ever, and more numerous.
The corrosive sublimate was accidentally left ashore at Penduffryn;the peroxide of hydrogen is exhausted; and I am experimenting with boracic acid, lysol, and antiphlogystine.At any rate, if I fail in becoming a reputable M.D., it won't be from lack of practice.
P.S.It is now two weeks since the foregoing was written, and Tehei, the only immune on board has been down ten days with far severer fever than any of us and is still down.His temperature has been repeatedly as high as 104, and his pulse 115.
P.S.At sea, between Tasman atoll and Manning Straits.Tehei's attack developed into black water fever--the severest form of malarial fever, which, the doctor-book assures me, is due to some outside infection as well.Having pulled him through his fever, Iam now at my wit's end, for he has lost his wits altogether.I am rather recent in practice to take up the cure of insanity.This makes the second lunacy case on this short voyage.
P.S.Some day I shall write a book (for the profession), and entitle it, "Around the World on the Hospital Ship Snark." Even our pets have not escaped.We sailed from Meringe Lagoon with two, an Irish terrier and a white cockatoo.The terrier fell down the cabin companionway and lamed its nigh hind leg, then repeated the manoeuvre and lamed its off fore leg.At the present moment it has but two legs to walk on.Fortunately, they are on opposite sides and ends, so that she can still dot and carry two.The cockatoo was crushed under the cabin skylight and had to be killed.This was our first funeral--though for that matter, the several chickens we had, and which would have made welcome broth for the convalescents, flew overboard and were drowned.Only the cockroaches flourish.Neither illness nor accident ever befalls them, and they grow larger and more carnivorous day by day, gnawing our finger-nails and toe-nails while we sleep.
P.S.Charmian is having another bout with fever.Martin, in despair, has taken to horse-doctoring his yaws with bluestone and to blessing the Solomons.As for me, in addition to navigating, doctoring, and writing short stories, I am far from well.With the exception of the insanity cases, I'm the worst off on board.Ishall catch the next steamer to Australia and go on the operating table.Among my minor afflictions, I may mention a new and mysterious one.For the past week my hands have been swelling as with dropsy.It is only by a painful effort that I can close them.
A pull on a rope is excruciating.The sensations are like those that accompany severe chilblains.Also, the skin is peeling off both hands at an alarming rate, besides which the new skin underneath is growing hard and thick.The doctor-book fails to mention this disease.Nobody knows what it is.
P.S.Well, anyway, I've cured the chronometer.After knocking about the sea for eight squally, rainy days, most of the time hove to, I succeeded in catching a partial observation of the sun at midday.From this I worked up my latitude, then headed by log to the latitude of Lord Howe, and ran both that latitude and the island down together.Here I tested the chronometer by longitude sights and found it something like three minutes out.Since each minute is equivalent to fifteen miles, the total error can be appreciated.By repeated observations at Lord Howe I rated the chronometer, finding it to have a daily losing error of seven-tenths of a second.Now it happens that a year ago, when we sailed from Hawaii, that selfsame chronometer had that selfsame losing error of seven-tenths of a second.Since that error was faithfully added every day, and since that error, as proved by my observations at Lord Howe, has not changed, then what under the sun made that chronometer all of a sudden accelerate and catch up with itself three minutes? Can such things be? Expert watchmakers say no; but I say that they have never done any expert watch-making and watch-rating in the Solomons.
That it is the climate is my only diagnosis.At any rate, I have successfully doctored the chronometer, even if I have failed with the lunacy cases and with Martin's yaws.
P.S.Martin has just tried burnt alum, and is blessing the Solomons more fervently than ever.
P.S.Between Manning Straits and Pavuvu Islands.
Henry has developed rheumatism in his back, ten skins have peeled off my hands and the eleventh is now peeling, while Tehei is more lunatic than ever and day and night prays God not to kill him.
Also, Nakata and I are slashing away at fever again.And finally up to date, Nakata last evening had an attack of ptomaine poisoning, and we spent half the night pulling him through.
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