Outpost Hospital (13 page)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

When
Elizabeth Frayne had gone, Mark began to work harder than ever. It seemed as though his conscience was troubling him and he was trying to ease it by completing as much work as possible in the time left to him. As the news that he was leaving spread around the villages, patients poured into Ngombe. Katherine and the other nurses were busy, too, coping with the very large out-patients’ clinic and the extra in-patients. Off-duty went by the board.

After about six weeks a letter arrived from the Mission Society telling Mark that a doctor had been found to replace him. The new doctor was called Dr. Mastingley and he would be on his way to Ngombe when the letter arrived.

With the letter to Mark about Dr. Mastingley had come several for Katherine, including one from Miss Fiona Graham. This was a brief but charming letter offering the writer’s best wishes for Katherine’s future happiness. Although it was so short and formal, Katherine felt again as she had when Andrew first told her of the other girl, that Fiona Graham had more than just a friend’s affection for him.

When she told Andrew of the letter he said:

“I had a letter of congratulation from her myself.”

Katherine asked, “Did she mention coming to Ngombe?”

“No, as a matter of fact, she didn’t. Or rather, she did mention the subject but she isn’t coming. She has decided that she can’t leave her parents. Perhaps she’s right. She’s the only child, you know. But I would have been, glad of her help with the girls here.”

“Are you surprised that she has changed her mind?”

“Yes, very. She had seemed so keen and was only waiting for her mother to get well before she came. But it’s easy enough to understand.”

“Yes, of course,” agreed Katherine. “It’s easy to understand.”

When word came that Dr. Mastingley had reached Makurdi, Mark decided to go and meet him there and escort him to the station. Katherine was surprised when he suggested that she should go too. “It will be a break for you,” he had said. “You’ve not had a minute’s rest in these past few weeks.”

Katherine had protested that they could not both be away from the hospital at the same time, but Mark had said that everything would be all right for the short time they would be away.

The beds were all full so that no new patients could be admitted; there was no one seriously ill and Joseph and Simon were quite capable of holding the fort for a couple of days. Andrew agreed with Mark that she ought to go, so Katherine consented.

“That’s settled then,” said Mark. “We’ll start early in the morning so that we can take our time; meet Dr. Mastingley and stay in Makurdi overnight. We’ll be back before dark the next day. I’ll go and make sure everything’s okay and give the nurses their instructions. It’ll do them good to be left on their own for a while; give them confidence.”

Katherine and Andrew stood watching at the window as he walked quickly to the hospital.

Andrew shook his head slowly. “He’s not really happy about leaving here. It’s a great pity. He’s done so much despite tremendous difficulties.”

“Well, it’s not as though we were going to be left without a doctor,” said Katherine brightly. “Dr. Mastingley will carry on the good work and the patients won’t suffer.” That was all that mattered. So long as the patients did not suffer by the doctor’s departure, who was the nurse to complain?

“I suppose so,” Andrew sighed. “Of course he’s right to go if his heart’s not in the work.”

Katherine considered this. Had Mark’s heart ever been in his work in Ngombe? His will, his strength, his skill he had poured out for his patients—but his heart? No. That had been with Elizabeth Frayne. Suddenly Katherine wished she had not allowed herself to be persuaded to go on the trip to Makurdi. What would she and Mark talk about during the long hours on the river? Away from their work they had nothing in common.

“I don’t think I’ll go to Makurdi, after all, Andrew,” she said.

“Why ever not, Kathie?”

“I don’t think Dr. Charlton and I should be away from the hospital at the same time.”

“But Charlton said the boys could manage for a day or two.”

“I know, and they can so long as things go smoothly, but if anything unexpected happens they’re liable to panic.

“Charlton wouldn’t have suggested you both go if he hadn’t been sure nothing would go wrong, would he? Now don’t argue. This will be the first time you’ve been away from the village except to visit patients. I think it’s going to be a fine day. You’ll enjoy it if you’ll just stop worrying.”

Katherine smiled. “All right, Andrew, I’ll stop worrying. I must stop imagining I'm indispensable.”

Andrew drew her toward him, kissing her forehead. “You’re indispensable to me, love. I hope you realize how unselfish I’m being in encouraging you to go on this excursion.” He clasped his hands over his heart in a dramatic gesture. “I shall miss you dreadfully.”

“You must be brave, my dear,” replied Katherine, in the same vein. “I shall return ere long, never fear.”

Early next morning Katherine got up and looked out of the window. It was not raining, she was thankful to see, but neither was the sun shining. A pearly gray haze lay over the village and, when it lifted, the day would probably be fine and clear.

She dressed in her gray two-piece and white blouse. It was a pity she would have to wear her sun helmet—it was not the most becoming headgear in the world—but it was essential even if the sun did not shine brightly. In her small case she put her nightdress, toilet things and a fresh blouse.

When she a
n
d Mark and Andrew walked down to the landing stage, the boat was waiting. Mark, looking very brown and handsome in his white linen slacks and jacket, took her case and put it in the boat and Katherine turned to say “goodbye” to Andrew.

He kissed her on the cheek and called to Mark, “Take care of her, Charlton.”

Mark promised he would and held out his hand to help her into the boat. She settled into the seat at the end of it and Mark took his place beside her. They waved to Andrew and a group of nurses and villagers who had gathered to see them go; the boys pushed off, and the boat slid slowly away.

After a few moments’ silence, Mark said with a grin, “I left Simon and Joseph in a state of delighted terror, with instructions and warnings tumbling over each other in their heads.”

“I expect they’re thrilled at the prospect of being in sole charge,” said Katherine.

“They are. They’re good nurses and the way they manage to keep so darned cheerful all the time is quite amazing. I shall miss them. I shall miss all of you and my hospital.” As he talked he gazed thoughtfully across the smooth water. “I’ll always think of it as my hospital.”

Katherine was surprised that he should talk so freely about himself.

“It will always be your hospital,” she replied quietly.

“Thank you for saying that, Nurse; I’d like to think it was true. You know,
er...”
He hesitated, looking rather embarrassed, “After all my high falutin’ talk back in Grinsley, I expected you to disapprove pretty strongly of my desertion.”

“You must do what you think is right,” said Katherine.

“Hm. So you do disapprove,” was his wry answer. “Well, I must say I’m sorry not to be able to do all the things I planned here, but this new chap Mastingley will do them instead. I don’t know much about him except that he has a string of letters after his name. He hasn’t done this type of work before, but the Society wouldn’t have sent him if, he wasn’t suitable.”

“You are staying on here for a while until he settles in, aren’t you, Doctor?”

“Yes, I’ll take a month to show him the ropes.”

The haze of the early morning had cleared now and the sun was hot. The boys’ cotton shirts were sticking to their thin bodies as they plied their oars. Occasionally a chattering monkey swung through the overhanging branches of the trees. It was odd, she thought, how few animals were to be seen in this part of the forest. Snakes there were, and ants, flies, and mosquitoes; but in all the months she had been in Africa, Katherine had never seen an elephant or a leopard.

She remarked on this to Mark to break the silence, which was becoming uncomfortable. He nodded. “I was disappointed myself, though I suppose it’s understandable that they should keep out of the way after being hunted for so long. They are really more in need of protection than the humans. I had hoped to make an expedition into the interior to photograph some animals but there hasn’t been time and there certainly won’t be now.”

“No, not now,” said Katherine. “Perhaps you’ll come back some time, to see how the hospital is going and then you could go on your expedition.”

“Yes, perhaps I will,” he answered. “I brought a movie camera out here with me but it hasn’t been out of its box yet. I’ll hope to use it here one day.”

It was still light when they reached the busy town of Makurdi. Makurdi was the rail terminal.

“Mastingley is expecting us,” said Mark, as they walked toward the center of the town. “He’ll be waiting at the hotel near the station. That looks like it.”

“That” was a large wooden building badly in need of a coat of paint. They went in.

Sitting at a small wicker table in a poorly furnished lounge was a thin, balding, middle-aged man with horn-rimmed spectacles on his high-bridged nose. Since he was the only person in the room, they approached him.

When he saw them he stood up. He was as tall as Mark but he stooped and so appeared several inches shorter.

“Dr. Mastingley?” Mark held out his hand as the other man nodded. “How d’you do? This is Nurse Marlowe who’s worked with me since I came to Africa.”

The introductions over, they sat down and Mark ordered drinks.

“I’m glad to be here,” said Mastingley when the drinks were on the table. “Yes, very glad. This is a great opportunity for me.”

Katherine, who had not been very favorably impressed by the new doctor’s appearance, began to feel happier. It seemed that he had the right approach to the work even if he did not look the part. But when he went on to explain what he meant by “a great opportunity” her misgivings returned.

“I’ve been wanting to come to West Africa for some time so as to be able to study the diseases prevalent here. One needs to be on the spot in order to make a thorough investigation into the causes of a disease; then one can go on to try to find a cure. I suppose the incidence of sleeping sickness is very high in this area?”

“Yes. I’m afraid it is,” Mark told him. “It’s our worst problem. There’s so little we can do about it. I’ve been trying to catch it in the early stages by taking blood tests when there seemed to be the slightest chance of it, but with so much to do, cases are bound to get overlooked.”

“Ah, yes. I thought there would be plenty of scope for me here,” replied the other doctor with a satisfied nod. “It’s my special interest, you know. I’ve been working at a hospital for tropical diseases for some years but I felt I would make better progress out here.”

“Well, it’s a nice idea,” said Mark, “but I don’t think you’ll find much time for research at Ngombe. I certainly haven’t.”

“I shall make time,” stated Dr. Mastingley shortly. “That is why I came here. I applied to the Mission Society to be sent to a West African Station in order to be able to study my subject at first hand.” He looked at Katherine. “Will you have another drink, Nurse? No? What about you, Charlton? Another whisky? Excuse me a minute. The waiter seems to have disappeared.”

While he went in search of the waiter, Mark and Katherine looked at each other. Mark was frowning. “I didn’t expect a Boffin,” he whispered. “I suppose the Society knew what they were doing when they selected him for the job but
...
”

“I expect his ideas will change when he starts work,” said Katherine hopefully.

Mark looked doubtful. “I’m not so sure.”

After a meal Katherine went to her room, leaving the two doctors talking in the lounge.

On the journey back to Ngombe the newly arrived doctor did most of the talking, elaborating on his plans. He had brought several large cases of equipment and intended to start building a laboratory as soon as possible.

When they were back at Ngombe, Mark took Dr. Mastingley straight off to show him the hospital, and after their tour they went into the office. They lit their pipes and leaned back in their chairs. “What’s your usual routine here, Charlton?”

Mark smiled. “Routine isn’t something we bother much about here. Oh, we started off with good intentions. We were going to set aside certain days of the week for operating, others for out-patients, and new patients would be seen on others. But it didn’t work out like that. If you can make a patient understand when you tell him you can’t examine him today but if he comes back tomorrow you will—then you’ll have succeeded in doing what I’ve failed to do. There are always things cropping up that upset your plans. Accidents are happening all the time—bites, cuts, poisoning—then you have to pull a tooth in the middle of making a diagnosis. No, you can’t stick to timetables in a place like this.”

“I shall draw up a timetable and insist that it is adhered to,” said Dr. Mastingley coolly. “The efficient running of a hospital depends on rules being made and kept.”

“I quite agree. Under normal circumstances that’s a very good precept; but what applies in England won’t wash here—surely you can see that? And I don’t consider we have been inefficient even if our methods are unorthodox,” he added rather icily.

“My dear chap, I did not mean to imply that you had,” said the older doctor placatingly. “By no means: but you will understand that it won’t suit me to carry on as you’ve been doing. If I am to be treating or examining patients all day and every day, when am I going to get any research done?”

“There’s a slackening off in the work for a while in the summer. You might get some, time for it then,” Mark told him.

“My idea is to put things the other way around. My own work comes first. When I have set aside a certain amount of time each day for that, I shall attend to other matters. Of course, my study will involve treating patients in various stages of sleeping sickness. I want a separate ward for them.
”

Mark said, “I was hoping to build separate wards for the different complaints and a separate out-patients department. It would make the work much easier but, for the present, we’ll have to be content with what we have—plus such extensions as can be made without interrupting the work.” Mark stood up and pushed his pipe into his pocket. “For the rest
—w
e’ll see how it goes, shall we?”

Dr. Mastingley stood up too and with a thin smile said, “It will go as I intend it to, my dear chap.”