"My niece has been telling me a great deal about your Mission, Mr.
Fullerton, and she says you want a floating hospital. I've thought about
the matter, but I have so few details to go upon that I can neither plan
nor reason. I mean to help if I can, merely because my girl has set her
mind on it; but I intend to know exactly where I am going, and how far.
I understand you have twelve thousand men that you wish to influence and
help. How many men go on board one vessel?"
"From five to seven, according to the mode of trawling."
"That gives you, roughly, say two thousand sail. Marion tells me you
have now about eight thousand patients coming on board your ships
yearly. Now, if you manage to cover the lot, you must attend on a great
many more patients."
"We can only _dabble_ at present. We have little pottering dispensaries,
and our men manage slight cases of accident, but I cannot help feeling
that our work is more or less a sham. People don't think so, but I want
so much that I am discontented."
Sir James broke in, "Your vessels have to fish, haven't they?"
"They did at first. We hope to let them all be clear of the trawl for
the future."
Mr. Cassall looked at Sir James. "I say, Doctor, how would you like one
of your men to operate just after he had been handling fish? Do they
clean the fish, Mr. Fullerton? They do? What charming surgeons!"
"We have gone on the principle of trying to do our best with any
material.
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