Things with the Buccaneer had so gone from bad to worse and so preyed upon his mind that his body became affected and he was seized with illness of a lingering kind; but the nature of his illness no one knew.
Now his island was celebrated for men skilled in the treatment of every known disease that man is heir to. Many of these men were specialists, that is to say, they bestowed the whole of their labour and attention upon some one particular disease, or part of the human body. Others again were faddists, that is, they pinned their faith to some particular course of treatment. One of these tried upon the Buccaneer total abstinence, but he got so weak and irritable that this man was shown the door. He went away perfectly well satisfied that the Buccaneer's life was merely a matter of days. Another doctor was called in, who declared he was no advocate for slops and physic. A generous, but plain diet, with plenty of fish to strengthen the brain, the whole washed down by a tablespoonful of whisky diluted well with water, twice a day, was all that was required; but on no account to touch claret, which, he declared, was little better than poison, while sherry was molten lead to the strongest stomach. This advice was not given in the above simple terms, for no little of the physician's skill depends upon a grave deportment, and the use of a language altogether unintelligible to the ordinary mind. Then when by long familiarity the understanding does begin to grasp a name, a new denomination is found for an old complaint, or something fresh is manufactured out of the weakness of the human body. The above treatment was acceptable for a time; but it soon began to pall upon one who had all his life been accustomed to good living, so another doctor had to be tried. When this eminent man heard of the course prescribed by his predecessor, he raised his eyebrows and smiled in a grave and wise manner; there being no approach, however, to coarse and vulgar mirth. "Ah!" he said, as he read over the prescription and order of diet, "brother Grain is a very clever fellow, without doubt, but he has his whims and fancies. Whisky he swears by, because he likes it himself; but I confidently assert that you cannot drink anything very much worse. A little good sound claret, not any of those mixtures, mind you, that are made at home, but a good, pure, wholesome, sound, and not manufactured wine. This, and a diet of game, or fowl, will bring you relief. The nature of your disease is to be explained simply thus: Imperfect mastication and a slight weakness of the salivary glands not bringing about a healthy deglutition there is in consequence a corresponding loss of chymification, followed by imperfect chylification, and thus the food is not properly acted upon before it passes through the pyloric opening into the duodenum. Having had the above explained to you in this simple and unpedantic manner, you will, no doubt, my dear sir, feel very much more at ease." Having thus delivered himself, the doctor took both his fee and his departure.
How sad it is that the poor human body cannot run through its brief span of life, without having to carry about inside it a bottled-up disease of some kind or other, which in time eats through the cork, or stopper, and flows out all over the system, poisoning everything. Taking away all sunshine, all happiness, until at length it dries up the channels of life; not sparing either the great and rich, but attacking the mighty as well as the lowly; not leaving alone so great a man even as our bold Buccaneer. It is sad, but then there is a crowd waiting for us to move on.
After the faddists came the specialists. Each one of these saw in the Buccaneer's illness some one of the symptoms of his own especial disease. Many of these most eminent men met in consultation, and there was a great diversity of opinion. Each of the learned physicians flew at once to his particular part of the Buccaneer's body. One said he was suffering from dropsy and that nothing would save him but immediate tapping. Another said it was stone, while a third was equally sure it was his kidneys that were affected; this happening to be at the time the fashionable disease. The exploring needle was thrust into every part of the patient's body, with the result that some skulking disease was said to be at the end of it, like a base conspirator plotting at the great man's life. They one and all agreed, however, that the patient was suffering from plethora, brought about by a too generous diet, which so often accompanied very great prosperity. So before they left they bled him freely; but still he neither recovered nor did he mend.
Only one set of specialists dare not approach him, and these were the mad doctors; those who treated the human mind. So sensitive was the Buccaneer on this point that it was extremely dangerous to mention the subject of insanity. He allowed all his idiots and maniacs to go about at large, and he never interfered with them until they killed some one, or outraged society by some scandalous act of indecency. They were then locked up to keep them from doing further injury.
The old coxswain stood by his master and prevented him from being either starved, bled, or physiced to death. His neighbours too, all took a kind interest in his welfare. Looked in just to see how he was getting on, and to see how long he was likely to last. Said they hoped he would soon recover; but in their hearts they hoped he never would. On their faces, as is the custom, they wore a deep look of concern; sympathised with all his sufferings, and told him to cheer up, for that they felt confident he would pull through. Inwardly they were considering what of the Buccaneer's property they would lay their hands upon, when the old gentleman became too weak to defend himself. This is not hypocrisy, it springs from that most laudable motive of not wishing to prolong the suffering, or hurt the feelings, even of a rival.
But what caused the poor old gentleman more annoyance than anything was the way some of the members of his family behaved, taking advantage of the old gentleman's state of health to pester him almost to death, and would not take no, for an answer. His daughters even gave him no peace, and their shrill voices were to be heard even above the men's, clamouring for all kind of things.
Some of them put on their nursing caps and bib-aprons and fell to wrangling amongst themselves as to how the sick man was to be treated, while at one end of the room, one Zedekiah Cant, had enthroned himself, and held forth, by way of comforting the sick man's soul, upon the horrors of hell. This reverend gentleman had slipped into the room while two priests belonging to the old Church Hulk fell foul of each other on the door-step over a matter of orthodoxy.
The old coxswain tried his best to keep them all quiet, and he read many of them a lecture; but just as he had succeeded in establishing a little peace in rushed one of the daughters—the one who, at the march-past of the disaffected, had begged that all violent death might be banished from the Buccaneer's kingdom. "Look here, sir," she exclaimed, holding up a pigeon. "It's dead!"
"Who is dead?" cried the old Buccaneer, as he raised himself up in bed, and looked fiercely round like some old terrier who on a sudden smells a rat. "Has anything happened to the Eastern Bandit?" he asked. The ruling passion it is well known is strong even in death.