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296 wheezing all night and hadn’t got out of his berth. The examination was short. The Doctor knew what was the matter before he put the stethoscope on him. “It’s pneumonia, both lungs,” he said when they came out into the corridor. “I have one case in the hospital that will die before morning.”

“What can you do for him, Doctor?”

“You see how I’m fixed; close onto two hundred men sick, and one doctor. The medical supplies are wholly inadequate. There’s not castor oil enough on this boat to keep the men clean inside. I’m using my own drugs, but they won’t last through an epidemic like this. I can’t do much for Lieutenant Fanning. You can, though, if you’ll give him the time. You can take better care of him right here than he could get in the hospital. We haven’t an empty bed there.”

Claude found Victor Morse and told him he had better get a berth in one of the other staterooms. When Victor left with his belongings, Fanning stared after him. “Is he going?”

“Yes. It’s too crowded in here, if you’ve got to stay in bed.”

“Glad of it. His stories are too raw for me. I’m no sissy, but that fellow’s a regular Don Quixote.”

Claude laughed. “You mustn’t talk. It makes you cough.”

“Where’s the Virginian?”

“Who, Bird?” Claude asked in astonishment,—Fanning had stood beside him at Bird’s funeral. “Oh, he’s gone, too. You sleep if you can.”

After dinner Doctor Trueman came in and showed Claude how to give his patient an alcohol bath. “It’s simply a question of whether you can keep up his strength. Don’t try any of this greasy food they serve here. Give him a raw egg