Surgical bags containing bandages, dressings, splints, and tourniquets were placed ready to hand in all the gun positions in case men were wounded; morphia tabloids were served out to all the officers of quarters for administration to badly injured men; while the fleet surgeon and Cutting, the 'young doctor,' saw to the gruesome implements of their profession, and caused the operating-table to be transferred from the sick-bay to a convenient site behind armour on the lower deck.
Tickle's cabin was next to the 'young doc's' in Rogues' Alley, as it was called; and, happening to go below during the forenoon, he noticed Cutting through the half-drawn curtain busy with a chamois leather and an array of murderous-looking knives, probes, and forceps laid out on his bunk.
'Hallo, Sawbones!' he remarked, putting his head inside; 'I see you've got all your ironmongery out. Think you're going to have something to do at last—eh?'
'Hallo, Toby! That you? Come inside and have a look. I've an excellent line in cutlery, guaranteed to kill or cure while you wait. What d'you think of that?' He held out a horrible-looking knife with a thin curved blade.
'Ugh!' shuddered Tickle. 'Take the beastly thing away! What d'you do with it?'
'Cut, my dear chap,' the doctor gloated. 'One sharp snick like that'—and he gave the blade a downward jerk, and clicked suggestively with his tongue—'and then we get to work and remove—er—anything you like. Ripping little thing, isn't it?' he laughed. 'This,' the medico continued, laying the knife down and picking up a probe and a pair of forceps, 'is what we use for feeling for a bit of shell inside a chap, and this is what we fish it out with. Quite simply done. Topping little operation to watch.'
'You bloodthirsty little blighter!' Tickle ejaculated.
'Bloodthirsty! Why, it's my job, isn't it? We hardly ever get a chance of doing any decent operations in peace, worse luck!' he added regretfully; 'your sailors are so disgustingly healthy; and if they do get really ill and promise to be interesting cases, they're packed straight off to hospital. Sickening, I call it!'
'M'yes, that's true, I suppose,' Tickle agreed, smiling. 'Look here, though, doc; if you ever have to—er—extract a bit of shell or other foreign substance from my anatomy, look out you don't chuck it away. I want to keep it as a relic.'
Cutting grinned. 'Right-o, Toby; I'll see to it. Now you'd better clear out of here, young fellow, and get on with your work. I'm busy, and I'm sure you ought to be.'