The Story of Dr. Wassell Read Online Free Page A

neighbor, “I’ll make this fellow smile if I have to stand on my head to
do it.”
    Then he put on a deliberately thick Arkansas dialect for Hanrahan’s
benefit, asking the boy how he’d like a dish of sourbelly and cornbread.
    Hanrahan said he would, but McGuffey, always ready to bait the doctor,
shouted across the ward: “I’ll settle for a pack of Camels, Doc. Why can’t
you get us some smokes?”
    McGuffey had bothered him about that before, and he had had to fall back
On familiar defenses…“Now look here, boys, there’s things I can do for you
and things I can’t—this isn’t an American hospital, you
understand—the Dutch have this rule, they’ve always had it, no smoking
in the wards—very strict…You notice I don’t smoke any more in here
myself—I didn’t know the rule when I came. I can’t go against rules,
especially when the people here are good to us in other ways…”
    But now he felt so exultant because the men had turned the corner and were
recovering that he exclaimed: “By golly, I don’t really sec why you shouldn’t smoke! I’ll ask the boss about it today.”
    He caught Dr. Voorhuys after lunch. Voorhuys was a very big man, with
steel-blue eyes and apple-red cheeks; a fine surgeon and one with the right
kind of personality to run a hospital. He had been educated in England, and
was very proud of his English idiom and accent, which he believed perfect. At
this moment he looked rather worried, as well he might be by the course of
events, but he found time to welcome his American colleague in a few stiffly
cordial sentences and to offer him a tot of Bols gin, which was gratefully
accepted.
    “Your men are getting along very nicely,” said Dr. Voorhuys, lifting his
glass ceremoniously.
    “Very nicely indeed, sir, thanks to you. There’s only one thing they ask
for—”
    “Some of them have made wonderful recoveries.”
    “Wonderful, I agree, and now that the period of convalescence—”
    “But they still have far to go. They must not think they are well yet. New
skin has to form—”
    “Of course, and in the meantime, while they’re waiting, there’s just one
thing as a special favor—”
    “You need not ask, my dear sir. They are our honored
guests—everything we do for our own countrymen we will do for
yours.”
    “That’s just it—very generous of you, sir, and I’m afraid my men are
wrong to want more than that, but they do—just one little thing
more.”
    “I’m afraid ‘I don’t quite understand, sir. What is it?”
    “Will you relax the rule about letting them smoke?”
    “ Smoke? ” Dr. Voorhuys echoed the word as if it were something
incredible, almost incomprehensible. “That’s it, sir. They just want to
smoke.”
    “I am afraid that is impossible. A most strict rule of the hospital.” He
added, Englishly: “Sorry, old chap.”
    “You don’t object on moral grounds?”
    “ Moral? Oh dear me, no—I smoke myself, but not here. A
question of fire insurance, that’s all.”
    “ Fire insurance? “
    Dr. Voorhuys nodded. The doctor from Arkansas took a deep breath, then
began to speak with the slow drawl that was not, as it gathered momentum,
unimpressive. “Dr. Voorhuys…I understand how you feel about a strict rule,
but there’s just this in my mind. A billion dollars’ worth of oil wells and
rubber trees are burning like hell’s delight this very minute. And yesterday
there was another air raid on Surabaya—the Japs are in Borneo, and the
Dutch Government’s in London and Queen Wilhelmina’s in Canada and the Repulse and the Prince of Wales are at the bottom of the
sea…I sure hope that your fire-insurance policy is a good one.”
    Dr. Voorhuys gulped down another glass of Bols. Then he answered: “I get
your point, sir. The men may smoke.”
    The next day the doctor had to go to Surabaya to present his official
reports to the Navy authorities, but before beginning the journey he bought