Dr. Livesey

Dr. Livesey, the embodiment of order, accompanied Jim through the colorful port city. Unperturbed amid the bustle, he noticed what eluded others.

"Jim, my boy, be careful," Livesey said quietly, spotting the pickpockets. He watched the ragged men scurry into an alley and followed them.

The alley led them to an abandoned part of the port. A shack made of junk stood among the ruins. Livesey peered inside: a man in an expensive caftan, the "king of the slums," was lounging on sacks, accepting coppers from children.

"This is out of order," Livesey whispered. "This is outrageous."

The sound of a plank crunching startled the "king" and the children. Livesey entered the shelter: "See, Jim? In the absence of law and mercy, evil is born. We must prevent it from spreading aboard the Hispaniola."

Suddenly, a teenager in rags burst into the courtyard, pursued by guards. The boy tripped, dropping a bundle containing two crusts of bread and a fish tail. The guards raised their clubs, but Livesey blocked their path.

"Calm down, gentlemen, calm down," his voice sounded like the crack of a whip. "Loud shouting is bad for your digestion, and excessive fussing leads to shortness of breath."

"Get out of the way, sir!" the guard barked.

Livesey adjusted his wig. “As a district judge and a physician, I remind you: the law is an instrument of order, not an excuse for cruelty. Look at this patient. He’s suffering from malnutrition, vitamin deficiency, and nervous exhaustion. Strike him and you’ll cause internal bleeding. Killing him for three pence will create a mess in the paperwork. Is that what you want?”

The guards lowered their batons. "But… what about the damage, Doctor?"

"Order will prevail," Livesey snapped. "Jim, give the guards the 'delicti corps.' And you, gentlemen, have a shilling—return it to the merchant. Consider the matter closed. Go and deal with the real robbers. And try not to make any noise—it's annoying."

When the guards had disappeared, Livesey turned to the teenager: "Stealing is chaos. And I cure chaos with bitter potions. Jim, give him a couple of apples. Come on, my friends. Scurvy won't wait."