Crozier's Operation

"We don't need one of them, with yer about." He answered with a small chuckle and began pulling the sleeve up, just as he peeled the bloodied part off of his skin. The bruise was dark where the cut had ended, the skin tender all about. Where the skin was broken a bit of blood would come whenever the boy bent his arm and had the skin stretch there. "Wot did t' cap'n need ye earlier for?" He wondered if he had guessed right.

Stephen walked in step with Yates to the sick-bay. "Barrow is to be kept sitting up," he said upon walking in. "Mister Crozier on his front. Now, Everett, allow me to examine your leg."

Peter stood for a moment as the doctor took charge in the sick-bay. The four new patients - there was already Donald ensconced in one of the cots - were brought in and the place was as crowded as it had been after the battle. Dr Maturin was already arranging the injured, and directing his assistants to their care, but he still dripped sea water onto the deck. He had said he did not have a change of clothing, but he could not be allowed to stand here, soaking, tired, obviously ill...

He remembered coming into the house, after being caught in a downpour while walking with Jack and Martin - they had been stripped, and a bath had been drawn for them while they sat wrapped in sheets and blankets... There was a pile of blankets on a shelf and he took one and offered it to the doctor. "Shall I go to the purser?" he asked diffidently. "Or ... something of Chandos's might fit you. I'm sure he would be ..."

Following the doctor's orders the sailors dutifully arranged the wounded. Crozier was laid down, so that he was lying on his belly, careful of his head as if it were made of the thinnest glass and not a hard scull so evidently there. Barrow was propped up, and some of the ship's round pillows were tucked under his back to keep him secured and certain from slipping.

Stephen nodded, clutching the blanket. "That would be very kind of you, Mister Yates, thank you." He turned his attention back to Everett's leg. "It has oozed a little here, thank the Dear - I will take the ball out now. I want an iron heated, and the probe, if you please," he said to Bridgens.

Peter turned and left the sick bay. He had no desire to watch the doctor probe for a ball in Everett's leg, or in anyone else's, and but thought that he ought to be properly dressed ... Yes, he was perhaps not as big as Chandos, but that was a good thing - he would be much too big for Peter's own clothes. He could not imagine that Chandos would refuse, but he must find him first - he was probably on deck, since it was their watch. Which might mean that he would have to stay, but he thought he could persuade Lieutenant Leat that he had to do something for the doctor first. He took the companionway up, and stopped, shaking at the top, before heading along the gangway to the quarterdeck.

Bolitho had watched the returning shore party, and had been quite displeased to see that they had returned with more wounded than they had set out with. Yates' explanation told him all he needed to know about that, however. Blasted French. Though, he could not help wondering if he was responsible to a certain extent. Perhaps the attack could have been avoided if they had not gone off after that French ship... Even so, he was still pleased to see all of them had made it back, at any rate. And he was glad to know that Maturin had been able to perform his surgery on Crozier before they had been attacked.

He had only seen Dr. Maturin from afar since his coming back aboard. Upon seeing that there were more men wounded, Bolitho had thought it best that they were brought below first, so that they could be settled right away. He did not need to detain Maturin on deck unnecessarily while there were men in need of his care. But now that the wounded had all been taken below, he thought it would be alright for him to speak with Maturin. He very much wanted to hear the results of his surgery on Crozier--and now his prognosis on the other wounded men as well.

After making sure everything was in order and running smoothly on deck, Bolitho made to leave the quarterdeck when he saw that Yates had emerged from below.

"Mr. Yates," he said, "Is everything well with Dr. Maturin and his patients? I was just about to go below and see him."

Peter saluted, and said: "He is settling them in now, Sir, and - well, he is about to take a ball out of Everett's leg - he was shot by the French..." He drew a deep breath. "The doctor is very wet, Sir, having fallen into the water, and ... I think Mr Chandos has a jacket and some trousers that would be more fitting than slops. Can I speak to him - to Chandos, I mean?"

"Sir. The iron's hot." Bridgens approached, holding the said object in his hand as he had done as earlier requested. The probe was held in his other hand. Some of the Tars glanced at Everett with pity. There was not a single one of them envious of the man's situation and quite possibly all that would not have wished it done to themselves.

One would think that, being a man of medicine, he would know remaining in wet clothes would not be beneficial to his health, Bolitho thought, but refrained from speaking that aloud.

"Of course. That would be most advisable to fetch the doctor a change of clothes," he said, nodding to Yates, "By all means, do go and speak with Mr. Chandos."

Stephen had cut away the cloth around Everett's thigh. "Be of good heart, and do not fear - the ball is not deep, and it will take all of a minute. Someone give him a belt to bite down on," said Stephen taking the probe and wiping the water away from his eyes. Some stray drops sizzled as they landed on the iron.

"Thank you, Sir." Peter hesitated before going to the older midshipman. "Sir, Dr Maturin was attacked by one of the Marines, and I think he was hurt - an old injury, he said, and his arm is badly bruised. He may be ... He has been a bit snappy, Sir, but it is just that he does not think he can leave his patients to anyone else."

A belt was supplied quickly, if awkwardly.
Everett received a light pat on the shoulder, and had the belt thrust in his hand. The man was in pain, dulled only by the manner in which the body provided itself with some protection. He raised the belt to his lips and then with a nervous sigh, bit down on it. He blinked, a droplet of sweat slipping its way down his temple. He put on a brave face infront of the men, but was smart enough not to decline the earlier offer. Biting one's tongue off while the leg we getting better would help him very little. Slowly he nodded to the doctor.

Chandos listened and nodded to Mr. Yates: "I see." He spoke in a calm and collected voice. He waited for Mr. Yates to continue.

A look of concern passed over Bolitho's face.

"Well, I would not want him to do too much if he himself is injured," he said, "However, since he is a physician after all, perhaps he knows best." He paused for a moment, contemplating. "But thank you for telling me, Mr. Yates."

As soon as Everett was biting down on the belt, Stephen knelt down and began probing for the ball. He knew that in these cases speed was of the essence, but he had plenty of experience and practice.

Everett bit down harder on the belt, with his arms gripping at the wooden surface with such force, that it uttered a rather faint creaking sound. His breathing turned somewhat laboured, till he was able to steady it somewhat. What an odd yet most unpleasant sensation it was for the man to have something move so freely in his injured leg, in his benefit yes, but it hurt no less for it. He prayed the ball was to be found soon, cursing it silently for remaining lodged inside at all.

After less than half a minute, metal touch metal; Stephen maneuvered the pincers to grip the ball tightly. "I have it," said Stephen, and pulled it out.

The ball was taken and more instruments offered up, trying to anticipate the need before Dr Maturin had to voice it.
it was all done very neatly, though M'Clure doubted Everett would appreciate the deftness until he had another such hole and felt it worse the next time.

Everett slumped his shoulders a little in relief. He give Maturin a grateful smile with the belt still in his mouth. He moved it out of his mouth for a little and mouthed a strained: "Thank 'ee sir." But as he realised it was hardly over yet, he quickly pushed the belt back between his upper and lower jaw and bit down on it, expectant of more pain.

Stephen nodded, frowning in concentration. He lifted the iron and pressed it gently to the open flesh, and there was a smell like that of roasting pork.

Clearly the smell wasn't pleasant to many of the men, they twisted and coughed a little as they watched. Everett was also unimpressed, as should be expected, chewing the belt as if it was the only thing there, hands gripping where they lay.
It would prevent any nasty infections, though, was the plan and m'Clure reckoned it was better the breifer pain now than the longer lasting one later.

Stephen stood up, handing the iron back, and gripped the Marine's shoulder. "Well done. Mister M'Clure, ten minims of laudanum for this man, and a dressing; five for Private Joyse."

The smell and sight of that, had left only a few Tars still in the room, ready to aid either Maturin or M'Clure - an excuse to use when their morbid curiosity got the better of them.

Everett looked glad that it was all over even with the unpleasantness of the pain. He spat the belt into his palm and wiped away the dribble of saliva from his chin and belt.

After speaking with Yates, Bolitho left the quarterdeck and descended down to the sickbay. Upon entering, he saw Maturin was there and already caring for the patients. At the moment, he was seeing to one of the Marines who had been shot, and was currently removing the musket ball from the man. So Bolitho simply stood in the door for a moment, waiting. He was used to seeing wounded men, and so it was not the sight which made him wait. He just did not want to disturb the doctor during such a delicate procedure. But now that Maturin had finished, Bolitho entered and made his way across the room.

"Dr. Maturin, I trust everything went well with Dr. Crozier's surgery?" he said as he approached.