Picturegoer – Jul 30 1955
Dr Sparrow is Caged for a Night
Man the Laughboats! Here’s instalment three of “Doctor at Sea,” the specially edited serialisation prepared for “Picturegoer”
by Dirk Bogarde, star of the year’s laughter-hit
What’s gone before:
THERE was only one way of escape for Dr. Simon Sparrow (that’s Dirk Bogarde in the Rank Organization film): he ran away to sea to dodge the marriage-bent Wendy (Joan Sims). And now he’s doctor aboard the Lotus, finding lively shipmates in Hornbeam, the first officer (Geoffrey Keen), the second officer, Archer (Hubert Gregg), the third officer, Trail (Michael Medwin), the apprentice, Fellowes (James Kenney) and the doctor’s steward, Easter (Maurice Denham). Captain Hogg (James Robertson Justice) can also be called lively – meaning lively in a different way, like a volcano that blows its top every half-hour
The Lotus has docked in Bellos, a small South American port.. Hue, Hon meets a rival, Beamish (Raymond Huntley) and learns the terrifying news that Min Mallet (Brenda de Banzie), the daughter of the chairman of the shipping line, wiU be a passenger on the return voyage. Meantime, Simon, Tuil and Fellowes learn what Bellos has to offer in the way of ru&ht life. Simon meets a singer” (Brigitte Bardot who makes his heart leap but who leaves him flat.
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Before the Lotus had docked, the other officers had told Dr. Simon Sparrow that the night life was terrific in the steamy little South American port of Bellos. But, for Simon, the night life was nil. He’d met a wonderful girl and she’d left him. It was as simple as that.
Simon was almost relieved when be ran into old Archer – still neat, still impeccable – who suggested that they should have a bite to eat at a nearby restaurant.
That was where Simon made his big mistake. Archer was broke. Simon himself hadn’t a bean, either.
In jail, they felt much more at home. Their fellow disturbers of the peace, in various stages of fight and fury, were caged up in one vast cell.
In no time at all, Archer and Simon were joined by the ship’s carpenter, raving at his imaginary Alsatians again, and by Easter who had had a slight difference of opinion with the husband of the girl he’d met on the dock.
In the middle of the night the chief of police brought round an inspection party. It was led by Captain Beamish, skipper of the Violet and Hogg’s hated rival, who was accompanied by – Simon blinked hard – the girl from the night club. What was SHE, of all people, doing here?
Also in the party, though none of the criminals knew her, was Miss Mallet, daughter of the chairman of the shipping line.
The chief of police was convincing the ladies that no criminals were rougher or tougher than his criminals. They were believing every word of it.
They eyed Easter. Captain Beamish ughed: “Look at that revolting beast. Look at the lobes of the ears and the ape-like features. A murderer if ever I saw one.”
The elder of the two ladies returned his ugh : “Yes … ” she burbled. “Rather like … who was it? Crippen.”
Easter snarled just like a lion. The visitors beat a hasty exit.
Next morning the prisoners were let off with a small fine and a caution. The guard was pleased to let them go. He’d already lost his money, watch, keys and shirt to Easter in an all-night “Find the Lady” session.
When the ex-jailbirds returned to the ship, it was obvious that chaos was beginning to brew. The two female passengers that Captain Hogg had been promised were boarding the Lotus, taking charge of everything.
Simon was too busy to notice. He raced on board, his one thought being to wash off the smell of that night in Bellos’s best jail. Someone tried to tell him something. But, well, it could wait until after the shower, couldn’t it?
Then it happened!
As he barged into his cabin, a soft, feminine voice sailed from the direction of the shower.
“I won’t be long, darling.” And the prettiest little face, with the prettiest expression, popped round the shower door.
The girl gasped. Simon gasped. It was incredible! Or was he just seeing things? No, he wasn’t. It was true. It was the girl from the night club.
She stepped out delicately. a towel smothering her from shoulders to toe.
“I’m so sorry,” she smiled. “I thought you were Miss Mallet. You see, they’ve given us your cabin. I’m afraid you have to sleep in the ship’s hospital.”
If she’d told him he’d have to bunk with one of the chippie’s Alsatians, it wouldn’t have mattered. Her name, he learned, was Hélène Colbert.
“It’s a pleasure,” he sighed. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do…”
Simon had a thought. Miss Mallet? Heck! That must be the other woman who had visited the jail. He scooted through the door.
Still … Hélène was aboard. What did it matter about Miss Mallet? Good old Bellos. It certainly had its points, after all.
Captain Hogg was viewing the whole business of “ladies on board” with a deeper gravity. He summoned the ship’s officers to the saloon.
Hogg’s orders were, as usual, blunt. No skylarking. No swearing. No indecorous consumption of alcohol. And a ship’s dance bad to be arranged.
If the chairman’s daughter was taking back impressions of her voyage, Hogg was going to make jolly sure that her best impressions came from the Lotus and not from the Violet, on which she had hitherto been a passenger.
Hogg, when supervising the preparations for the dance, was a monster. As the decorations got underway, he was everywhere.
“Balloons!” he pestered Whimble. “You can’t have a self-respecting dance without balloons.”
And: “Wine for the ladies.” he ordered. “What the blazes are you doing?” he roared at the luckless Archer. “Putting down beetle powder?”
Archer was sprinkling french chalk on deck.
The information silenced Hogg, then he came up to Archer, clasped him round the waist, and began to waltz.
“I’m not keen on the waltz, sir.” Archer whispered.
“My officers waltz – and like it. Put some more of that stuff down,” he said. Archer duly sprinkled the french chalk around liberally.
Two seconds later, a thud and a curse rent the air. There was Hogg, flapping around on the deck like an angry whale, with his legs waving skywards.
Archer’s french chalk had done its job, well and nobly.
Archer did not mind that.
It was a warm, moonlit night. The Lotus looked like a film set, straight from paradise. There were fairy lights, orchestra, an ample buffet.
And romance was in the air.
Miss Mallet and Captain Beamish, of the Violet, arrived early. The look of envy on Beamish’s face almost compensated Hogg for his dread of the coming voyage with Miss Mallet.
For Simon there was one object in view: Hélène. For Trail the objects were varied and numerous: all were female.
Fellowes found himself a pretty woman on deck, took her to a secluded corner by the lifeboats and tried to impress her with his “adventures.”
It was the best ship’s dance anyone could remember.
When Simon, dreamy eyed after an evening with Hélène, got back to the ship’s hospital, a tricky situation awaited him. One of Trail’s girl friends was there flat out from too many liberal doses of a “fruit cup” made from surgical spirit.
Somehow, Simon manoeuvred her off the ship, got her address out of her and took her home.
It was a rather grand, rather solid, rather respectable apartment in Bellos. As Simon took the girl inside the flat, her rather grand, rather solid. rather respectable father burst into the room.
“How dare you!” he thundered. He might have been Captain Hogg’s twin, his voice was such a bellow.
“You don’t understand. I’m the doctor,” explained Simon.
“So, you drugged her!” he went on accusingly. “I’m going to tear you in little bits and throw away the pieces!”
Simon thought very, very quickly.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he cautioned. “Violent exercise is very dangerous with your complaint.”
Father paused.
” What complaint?” he queried.
Simon slipped on his very best bedside manner. “All the symptoms are there. Shortness of breath, caledonia of the epistratum. We might still be in time to operate. Just put your hands above your head, will you?”
Father huffed a little, but complied.
“Just stay like that for a moment,” said Simon. Father did stay like that.
Discreetly Simon slipped round the door and departed.
Whew! That had been a close one. He wondered how long Father would stand there with his hands above his head. But it didn’t worry him too much. He was too grateful to be left with his neck in one piece. Just wait till he got hold of Trail!
The dance had its repercussions next morning. Behind the scenes, Jones and Merritt, a couple of very ordinary seamen, had indulged in a friendly bout of fisticuffs.
When marched before Captain Hogg, they were covered in bandages, sticking plaster and self-reproach. Simon was there, too, as expert witness.
Hogg surveyed the culprits with a fatherly eye. He addressed them amiably, ending with: “As far as I’m concerned, a man is innocent until be’s proved guilty.”
Jones relaxed and expanded under this kindly treatment. “Well, sir, it was like this ‘ere, sir,” he began. “Me and my mate were having a cupper tea and…”
At that point, man-mountain Hogg erupted. “You flaming liar!” he screamed. “You were rotten drunk, both of you!”
Simon flinched, hoping he wouldn’t be called into the fray. But… “Doctor! Did you or did you not find these men drunk?”
Simon gulped. “Well, sir,” he began, “he scientific tests…”
Triumphantly the captain-cum- judge interrupted him. To his mind, Dr. Sparrow had come forward with evidence that was utterly damning. In those few words, the seamen’s fate had been sealed.
“There!” bellowed Captain Hogg to his victims. “You were soused. Do you know what I’d like to do with you? I’d like to put you in irons in the chain locker and keep you on bread and water until we get back to port. I’d like to tie you to the mainmast and flog the living hide off you.”
He thrust his face a bare millimetre from theirs.
“Fined five shillings,” he muttered.
Then he picked up dyspepsia medicine downed a half-bottle.
Next day, the Lotus set sail from Bellos. But, as Simon speculated cheerfully, all he ever wanted from Bellos was right here on board Hélène!
To be concluded next week
