“Young gentlemen, you will perceive that precisely at this spot—here—to which I previously directed your attention—at the corresponding spot precisely—the operation has been performed. About here, young gentlemen, here”—lifting his hand some inches from the bone—“about here the great artery was. But you noticed that I did not use the tourniquet; I never do. The forefinger of my steward is far better than a tourniquet, being so much more manageable, and leaving the smaller veins uncompressed. But I have been told, young gentlemen, that a certain Seignior Seignioroni, a surgeon of Seville, has recently invented an admirable substitute for the clumsy, old-fashioned tourniquet. As I understand it, it is something like a pair of calipers, working with a small Archimedes screw—a very clever invention, according to all accounts. For the padded points at the end of the arches”—arching his forefinger and thumb—“can be so worked as to approximate in such a way, as to—but you don’t attend to me, young gentlemen,” he added, all at once starting.
Being more interested in the active proceedings of Surgeon Sawyer, who was now threading a needle to sew up the overlapping of the stump, the young gentlemen had not scrupled to turn away their attention altogether from the lecturer.
A few moments more, and the top-man, in a swoon, was removed below into the sick-bay. As the curtain settled again after the patient had disappeared, Cuticle, still holding the thigh-bone of the skeleton in his ensanguined hands, proceeded with his remarks upon it; and having concluded them, added, “Now, young gentlemen, not the least interesting consequence of this operation will be the finding of the ball, which, in case of non-amputation, might have long eluded the most careful search. That ball, young gentlemen, must have taken a most circuitous route. Nor, in cases where the direction is oblique, is this at all unusual. Indeed, the learned Henner gives us a most remarkable—I had almost said an incredible—case of a soldier’s neck, where the bullet, entering at the part called Adam’s Apple—”
“Yes,” said Surgeon Wedge, elevating himself, “the pomum Adami.”
“Entering the point called Adam’s Apple,” continued Cuticle, severely emphasising the last two words, “ran completely round the neck, and, emerging at the same hole it had entered, shot the next man in the ranks. It was afterward extracted, says Renner, from the second man, and pieces of the other’s skin were found adhering to it. But examples of foreign substances being received into the body with a ball, young gentlemen, are frequently observed. Being attached to a United States ship at the time, I happened to be near the spot of the battle of Ayacucho, in Peru. The day after the action, I saw in the barracks of the wounded a trooper, who, having been severely injured in the brain, went crazy, and, with his own holster-pistol, committed suicide in the hospital. The ball drove inward a portion of his woollen night-cap——”
“In the form of a cul-de-sac, doubtless,” said the undaunted Wedge.
“For once, Surgeon Wedge, you use the only term that can be employed; and let me avail myself of this opportunity to say to you, young gentlemen, that a man of true science”—expanding his shallow chest a little—“uses but few hard words, and those only when none other will answer his purpose; whereas the smatterer in science”—slightly glancing toward Wedge—“thinks, that by mouthing hard words, he proves that he understands hard things. Let this sink deep in your minds, young gentlemen; and, Surgeon Wedge “—with a stiff bow—“permit me to submit the reflection to yourself. Well, young gentlemen, the bullet was afterward extracted by pulling upon the external parts of the cul-de-sac—a simple, but exceedingly beautiful operation. There is a fine example, somewhat similar, related in Guthrie; but, of course, you must have met with it, in so well-known a work as his Treatise upon Gun-shot Wounds. When, upward of twenty years ago, I was with Lord Cochrane, then Admiral of the fleets of this very country”—pointing shoreward, out of a port-hole—“a sailor of the vessel to which I was attached, during the blockade of Bahia, had his leg——” But by this time the fidgets had completely taken possession of his auditors, especially of the senior surgeons; and turning upon them abruptly, he added, “But I will not detain you longer, gentlemen”—turning round upon all the surgeons—“your dinners must be waiting you on board your respective ships. But, Surgeon Sawyer, perhaps you may desire to wash your hands before you go. There is the basin, sir; you will find a clean towel on the rammer. For myself, I seldom use them”—taking out his handkerchief. “I must leave you now, gentlemen”—bowing. “To-morrow, at ten, the limb will be upon the table, and I shall be happy to see you all upon the occasion. Who’s there?” turning to the curtain, which then rustled.
“Please, sir,” said the Steward, entering, “the patient is dead.”
“The body also, gentlemen, at ten precisely,” said Cuticle, once more turning round upon his guests. “I predicted that the operation might prove fatal; he was very much run down. Good-morning;” and Cuticle departed.
“He does not, surely, mean to touch the body?” exclaimed Surgeon Sawyer, with much excitement.