“Will you give me these five men?” said the Lady-in-Chief.
“Do as you like with them,” replied the surgeons; “we think their case is hopeless.”
If life could be saved, Florence Nightingale was determined to save it, and throughout the night, assisted by one of the nurses, she sat beside the men, feeding them with a spoon until their senses awakened and their strength began to return. She washed their wounds, cheered their hearts with kind words, and in the morning had the satisfaction of finding that they were in a fit condition to be operated on.
At another time a Highland soldier was about to undergo an amputation. Miss Nightingale asked that the operation might be delayed, as she thought that careful nursing might render it unnecessary. Through her unremitting care the man’s arm was saved; and when asked what he felt towards his preserver, he said that the only mode he had of giving vent to his feelings was to kiss her shadow when it fell on his pillow as she passed through the wards on her nightly rounds.
When cholera and plague cases came in, foaming at the mouth and black in the face, none were too bad for Florence Nightingale’s patient care. Her influence over the men was established from the first. She was their “good angel” and their confidence in her was unbounded.
Still, her task was a heavy one in these first days. There was official prejudice to overcome, and an overwhelming number of patients to deal with in a huge building devoid of the commonest hospital accessories and arrangements. The Barrack “Hospital,” so called, had been designed only for soldiers’ barracks, so that when suddenly converted into a hospital it lacked almost everything necessary for the sick, and the supplies forwarded from England had by a series of misadventures been delayed. A letter sent home by one of the nurses six days after the arrival of Miss Nightingale and her band may be quoted as giving a graphic picture of the state of affairs at this time. She writes:—
“I have come out here as one of the Government nurses, and the position in which we are placed induces me to write and ask you, at once, to send out a few dozens of wine, or in short anything which may be useful for the wounded or dying, hundreds of whom are now around us, under this roof, filling up even the passages to the very rooms we occupy. Government is liberal, and for one moment I would not complain of their desire to meet all our wants, but with such a number of the wounded coming in from Sebastopol, it does appear absolutely impossible to meet the wants of those who are dying of dysentery and exhaustion; out of four wards committed to my care, eleven men have died in the night, simply from exhaustion, which, humanly speaking, might have been stopped, could I have laid my hand at once on such nourishment as I knew they ought to have had.
“It is necessary to be as near the scene of war as we are, to know the horrors which we have seen and heard of. I know not which sight is most heartrending—to witness fine strong men and youths worn down by exhaustion and sinking under it, or others coming in fearfully wounded.
“The whole of yesterday was spent, first in sewing the men’s mattresses together, and then in washing them, and assisting the surgeons, when we could, in dressing their ghastly wounds, and seeing the poor fellows made as easy as their circumstances would admit of, after their five days’ confinement on board ship, during which space their wounds were not dressed.
“Miss Nightingale, under whom we work, is well fitted in every way to fill her arduous post, the whole object of her life having hitherto been the superintendence of hospitals abroad. Wine and bottles of chicken broth, preserved meat for soups, etc., will be most acceptable.