62. CHAPTER LXII.
A CONSULTATION OF MAN-OF-WAR SURGEONS.
It seems customary for the Surgeon of the Fleet, when any
important operation in his department is on the anvil, and
there is nothing to absorb professional attention from it, to
invite his brother surgeons, if at hand at the time, to a ceremonious
consultation upon it. And this, in courtesy, his
brother surgeons expect.
In pursuance of this custom, then, the surgeons of the
neighboring American ships of war were requested to visit
the Neversink in a body, to advise concerning the case of the
top-man, whose situation had now become critical. They
assembled on the half-deck, and were soon joined by their
respected senior, Cuticle. In a body they bowed as he approached,
and accosted him with deferential regard.
“Gentlemen,” said Cuticle, unostentatiously seating himself
on a camp-stool, handed him by his cot-boy, “we have
here an extremely interesting case. You have all seen the
patient, I believe. At first I had hopes that I should have
been able to cut down to the ball, and remove it; but the
state of the patient forbade. Since then, the inflammation
and sloughing of the part has been attended with a copious
suppuration, great loss of substance, extreme debility and
emaciation. From this, I am convinced that the ball has
shattered and deadened the bone, and now lies impacted in
the medullary canal. In fact, there can be no doubt that
the wound is incurable, and that amputation is the only resource.
But, gentlemen, I find myself placed in a very delicate
predicament. I assure you I feel no professional anxiety
to perform the operation. I desire your advice, and if you
will now again visit the patient with me, we can then return
here, and decide what is best to be done. Once more,
let me say, that I feel no personal anxiety whatever to use
the knife.”
The assembled surgeons listened to this address with the
most serious attention, and, in accordance with their superior's
desire, now descended to the sick-bay, where the patient
was languishing. The examination concluded, they returned
to the half-deck, and the consultation was renewed.
“Gentlemen,” began Cuticle, again seating himself, “you
have now just inspected the limb; you have seen that there
is no resource but amputation; and now, gentlemen, what do
you say? Surgeon Bandage, of the Mohawk, will you express
your opinion?”
“The wound is a very serious one,” said Bandage—a corpulent
man, with a high German forehead—shaking his head
solemnly.
“Can any thing save him but amputation?” demanded
Cuticle.
“His constitutional debility is extreme,” observed Bandage,
“but I have seen more dangerous cases.”
“Surgeon Wedge, of the Malay,” said Cuticle, in a pet,
“be pleased to give your opinion; and let it be definitive, I entreat:”
this was said with a severe glance toward Bandage.
“If I thought,” began Wedge, a very spare, tall man, elevating
himself still higher on his toes, “that the ball had
shattered and divided the whole femur, including the Greater
and Lesser Trochanter, the Linear aspera, the Digital fossa,
and the Intertrochanteric, I should certainly be in favor of
amputation; but that, sir, permit me to observe, is not my
opinion.”
“Surgeon Sawyer, of the Buccaneer,” said Cuticle, drawing
in his thin lower lip with vexation, and turning to a round-faced,
florid, frank, sensible-looking man, whose uniform coat
very handsomely fitted him, and was adorned with an unusual
quantity of gold lace; “Surgeon Sawyer, of the Buccaneer,
let us now hear
your opinion, if you please. Is not amputation
the only resource, sir?”
“Excuse me,” said Sawyer, “I am decidedly opposed to it;
for if hitherto the patient has not been strong enough to undergo
the extraction of the ball, I do not see how he can be
expected to endure a far more severe operation. As there is
no immediate danger of mortification, and you say the ball
can not be reached without making large incisions, I should
support him, I think, for the present, with tonics, and gentle
antiphlogistics, locally applied. On no account would I proceed
to amputation until further symptoms are exhibited.”
“Surgeon Patella, of the Algerine,” said Cuticle, in an ill-suppressed
passion, abruptly turning round on the person addressed,
“will you have the kindness to say whether you do
not think that amputation is the only resource?”
Now Patella was the youngest of the company, a modest
man, filled with a profound reverence for the science of Cuticle,
and desirous of gaining his good opinion, yet not wishing
to commit himself altogether by a decided reply, though, like
Surgeon Sawyer, in his own mind he might have been clearly
against the operation.
“What you have remarked, Mr. Surgeon of the Fleet,”
said Patella, respectfully hemming, “concerning the dangerous
condition of the limb, seems obvious enough; amputation
would certainly be a cure to the wound; but then, as, notwithstanding
his present debility, the patient seems to have a
strong constitution, he might rally as it is, and by your scientific
treatment, Mr. Surgeon of the Fleet”—bowing—“be entirely
made whole, without risking an amputation. Still, it
is a very critical case, and amputation may be indispensable;
and if it is to be performed, there ought to be no delay whatever.
That is my view of the case, Mr. Surgeon of the Fleet.”
“Surgeon Patella, then, gentlemen,” said Cuticle, turning
round triumphantly, “is clearly of opinion that amputation
should be immediately performed. For my own part—individually,
I mean, and without respect to the patient—I am
sorry to have it so decided. But this settles the question,
gentlemen—in my own mind, however, it was settled before.
At ten o'clock to-morrow morning the operation will be performed.
I shall be happy to see you all on the occasion, and
also your juniors” (alluding to the absent
Assistant Surgeons).
“Good-morning, gentlemen; at ten o'clock, remember.”
And Cuticle retreated to the Ward-room.
