Doctor Who_ Enlightenment - Barbara Clegg [7]
And I’m the Doctor.’ The effect of these words was surprising. Jackson had been in the middle of nodding an acknowledgement to Turlough, but stopped dead and turned back immediately to the Time Lord.
‘The Doctor! You are, are you!’ he said. ‘And about time too.’ And over his shoulder he called out, ‘He’s here, lads.
The Doctor’s aboard.’
‘You’ve been expecting me?’ There was relief in the Doctor’s query.
‘More than expecting you, Slush. We’ve been waiting for you,’ Jackson replied.
The Doctor threw Turlough a delighted look. Now, at last, it seemed that they were going to find out more about their task. But Jackson’s next words were not particularly enlightening.
‘Where’ve you been, eh?’ he enquired in a disgruntled way. ‘We’ve had nothing but hard tack since we came aboard, haven’t we lads?’
There was a chorus of agreement from the crew, and then several more comments.
‘Proper food, that’s what we want. None of your stinking greasy messes,’ came from another of the card-players.
‘Not like the last cook we sailed with,’ and Jackson spat on the floor at the memory. The Doctor’s face was a study.
‘Of course’ he muttered to himself. And then, as the men went back to their game, he said in a rather rueful aside to Turlough, ‘Seaman’s slang. The Doctor happens to be what they call the ship’s cook.’
‘And “Slush?” ’ Turlough whispered back.
‘Same thing. Different nickname,’ replied the Doctor.
But he was not cast down for long and very soon had managed to get himself introduced to the other card-players, Farley, Wade and Collier. It seemed that the newspaper was two days old, and had been brought aboard in someone’s pocket. The men had been battened under hatches ever since. In fact, as he soon discovered, they had no memory of actually coming aboard at all. His first thought was that they must have celebrated their last night ashore a little too well. But it turned out that Jackson did not drink; he had signed the pledge and was a staunch teetotaller – and yet he remembered nothing either. The men did recall signing on, however, because they had done that when they were aboard, and, unusually, they had been paid a month’s wages in advance. There was no complaint about the Captain’s meanness.
‘Stands to make a packet, I daresay, if we win,’ was Collier’s comment.
‘Win what?’ Turlough wanted to know. They all turned to stare at him in surprise.
‘The race, lad! The race!’ Jackson looked at him pityingly, as though he were half-witted. Collier gave a knowing grin. ‘Green hand, are you?’ He was obviously about to enjoy himself at the newcomer’s expense, and they all crowded round ready for a bit of sport. ‘Why is it I always bring out the bully in people?’ Turlough thought to himself sadly. But under the Doctor’s watchful eye, the ribbing they gave him was not too bad. In fact it included some very good advice, for their stories about the horrors of going aloft contained a lot of practical information. He must never let go of the lifeline until his feet were on the deck, and he must keep his eyes open, and learn.
‘Know why a pig can never be a sailor?’ Collier leered into this ear. ‘Cos it can’t look aloft.’ He dug Turlough hard in the ribs and they all laughed uproariously at this witticism. But the guffaws died into an uneasy silence as one of the officers walked in. He stood impassively, then pointed to the Doctor and beckoned. ‘Looks like you’re wanted.’ Jackson said quietly. The Doctor rose to his feet.
There was still no word from the officer, just a peremptory nod, and he turned on his heel and left, clearly expecting the Doctor to follow him. Turlough was going to get up too, but quietly and firmly the Doctor pressed him back into his seat. ‘You know where the TARDIS is, if things get difficult,’ he said softly as he passed.
The officer’s arrival seemed to have put a damper on the crew’s spirits, for there was no more laughter or leg-pulling. Turlough was not particularly happy, either. Even though the Doctor frequently irritated