Mr. Pigglesworth stood on the poop deck of the H.M.S. Perth fiddling with a sextant. It was one of those warm nights in the equatorial regions of the Atlantic, and Pigglesworth was trying to fix their position, so he might better know when they would arrive in Bermuda. First Officer Simkins appeared out of the dark.
"You know, your friend Gimpson is in the infirmary." He mentioned casually.
"No, I didn't know. Why?"
"He was complaining of a vomitous sensation, boils, weevils, and general discombobulation."
Pigglesworth took the sextant away from his eye.
"Sounds serious."
Simkins put his hands in his pockets, where the right one toyed with the bag of opium he had purchased before they left Liverpool from a sailor just out of the orient. It was much smaller than it's original size.
"Possibly. But the sea sometimes does strange things to men." He spoke casually, because none of this mattered to him. "Why once I actually saw a man gnaw his own hand till he had finger-bone shards in his..."
Pigglesworth, interrupted, concerned about his friend.
"I'd better go see." And he proceeded belowdecks.
Gimpson was in the cabin of an experienced sawbones, wearing a white gown, open in the back. The doctor was listening in various places around Gimpson's chest, when Pigglesworth barged in.
"Do you MIND!?" The grizzled doctor looked murder at Pigglesworth. Pigglesworth meekly shut the door.
"I was worried about my friend." He said, noticing a few boils, the size of marbles on Gimpson's back.
"MY GOD PIGGLESWORTH" Gimpson began to loose control..."I've got the Bird Flu! It's the Bird Flu, isn't it doctor!?" The old sawbones shook his head and made ticking sounds with his teeth.
Pigglesworth took up a hopeful tone. "I'm sure it isn't the Bird Flu Gimspon." Knowing full well, he'd never heard of the Bird Flu.
Gimpson looked back at the doctor. "Is is Mad Cow?"
The doctor continued listening, then took the stethoscope from his ears, and pressed on various spots around Gimpson's torso.
"OH GOD!" Gimpson began again, "Then WHAT?! EBOLA?! Anthrax!? POX?!! MY GOD MAN! DO I HAVE THE POX!?!"
At this outbreak of dangerous sounding words, even Pigglesworth began to worry. His skin crawled, and he scratched at an itch on his arm nervously. What if these things (which he had no idea of until he heard the word pox.) were contagious?
"A slight case of vertigo." The doctor said, putting away his instruments, "Combined with a nasty onslaught of sea-sickness. You'll be right as rain as soon as we make landfall."
Gimpson stood up, his gown flapping crazily with the wild flailings of his arms. "WHAT ABOUT THE BOILS MAN! THE BOILS!"
The doctor leaned against his desk. "From exposure to too much salt. I'll give you an elixir that will clear it all up." He reached into a drawer, and produced a olive-oil sized bottle filled with sea-green liquid. Gimpson grabbed it, and began to drink heartily.
"That's enough for now." The doctor said, "Only a few mouthfulls at a time. It's got to last for a few days yet."
Gimpson took the bottle away, and wiped the oozing liquid from around his mouth with an edge of the gown.
They were all much happier.
P.S.- the Author promises this will be the last elixir reference for at least one week.
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