MAES 3: Genuine Certificated Physician
Genuine Certificated Physician
Word spread quickly through the Sophie. Most men had either seen Mr. Day have his accident, or heard about it later, and there had not been a man aboard who thought that more than two days would pass before the gunner too would be put over the side, along with the other dead.
To be sure, this Doctor Maturin, this honored guest their new captain had brought aboard had proved to be very valuable, a fact which all the officers admitted, and which they respected by asking Mr. Lamb to convey to the captain that they wished the good Doctor to have his fair share of the prize money, as though he had already been a full member of the ship’s company, rather than a guest.
Henry Gouges, the elderly loblolly boy, had been in the Navy long enough to witness the whole range of naval surgeons, from carpenters pressed to the task to physicians of the fleet, and he told anyone who would listen that he had never seen a steadier hand, a neater stitch, nor a calmer demeanor in the face of such dreadful injuries as were inflicted in the battle than that of Doctor Maturin. Yet the news of what this odd little man intended to do to Mr. Day spread even faster than the news of the gunner’s injury, and caused far more excitement.
The captain’s steward, Killick, had been within easy earshot of the conversation in which Doctor Maturin had informed the captain that as soon as he had enough light, he intended to “have off the top of his skull with my little saw.” The captain had been quite shocked, and Killick had immediately conveyed the gist of their conversation to the whole crew.
It was of no surprise therefore, that when Maturin had Mr. Day brought up on deck the next morning, requested that the man be lashed into a chair so firmly as to prevent any movement, and instructed Gouges to hold his head quite still, there was a sizeable audience present to bear witness to this remarkable sight. Even if the gunner subsequently died of his wound, or the operation, there was not a single member of the ship’s company who wished to miss a minute of the spectacle.
Aware that he had an audience, Stephen carefully explained the process to Gouges as he went along, knowing the crew was listening. He did not do this out of any desire to show off, but rather to soothe any worries the men may have had as to their shipmate’s welfare.
“You needn’t worry at all,” he said brusquely, arranging his tools on a little table and rolling up his sleeves. “I have seen worse fractures by far. First we must shave his head entire, for you are to observe Mr. Gouges, that hair acts as a trap for the body’s filth, and filth breeds disease. I shall not have this wound become infected, if I can possibly prevent it.”
Many of the men exchanged looks of astonishment at this. Infected wounds were a part of naval life; that this doctor should take such care to prevent such a commonplace effect was a new thing, in their experience.
“Now,” said Stephen, once the shaving was done. “Note the wound is concave, the fractured skull pressing inward on the brain. It is this pressure that is so very dangerous, and which we must relieve by removing the fractured portions of bone, so the brain tissue may begin to recover from the blow.”
Approving murmurs ran through the crowd. Although such an operation was nearly unheard of, Stephen spoke with such authority that they found themselves taking such measures for granted.
Stephen took a scalpel and cut into the skin. Blood flowed, but not to an alarming extent. Stephen inverted the scalp and exposed the bone as nonchalantly as a housemaid turning back bedcovers, and several observers turned pale or looked away.
The grinding of the trepanning tools against bone made even more look elsewhere, gulping. Only the most hardened ghouls of the crew witnessed the broken pieces of bone cut away, the blood-crusted brain flushed with boiled water, and exposed to the open air.
Stephen took a ruler from the table, measured the hole, and called to the armorer, “Take a crown piece, hammer it out to twice its size, and put little small holes around the edge for the screws. Only the smallest screws will do sir; we want them to penetrate the skull, but not the brain. There should be at least six.”
Sounds of the hammering of hot metal filled the ship. Jack himself was up some ways above the deck, perched in the rigging. He was pretending to be keeping an eye on his convoy, but his telescope was pointed at the deck as often as the horizon.
Such a fortunate turn of events, he reflected. To think that the odd little man who had behaved so rudely at the concert would turn out to be such a gem as this. Maturin had said he was a physician, and Jack had believed it, had indeed been quite happy to discover it. But to think that he would be this skilled!
Truly, I wonder he has not opened a practice in London, or some other such place. Surely there would be any number of people who would pay a hefty price to have such a man at hand, in their illnesses.
“Well, they’re simply out of luck,” he said aloud in some satisfaction, scanning the horizon. “I’ve got him now, and be damned if I’ll let him get away from me easily. A warrant he shall certainly have, and I will do everything in my power to induce him to stay.”
Jack was by no means the only man who felt this way. By the time Stephen had screwed the flattened coin over the hole in Mr. Day’s skull, sewed his scalp back into place, bandaged the limp head and ordered Gouges to have the gunner carried to his cot, there was not a hand on the ship who did not feel that fate had smiled on them greatly to send them such a man, and they looked quite favorably on their new captain for having brought him aboard.
Discussion of the operation was chief gossip in all the messes for the next few days, and their high opinion of the Doctor’s skills was confirmed in the crew’s minds when “Lazarus” Day suddenly sat up in his cot, asked what the bleeding hell had happened to the galley they had been fighting, and informed the others in the berth that his head felt “mighty strange, mates.”
His messmates gleefully informed him of his injury, and his operation. The gunner had, just before the battle, spoken in high praise of the doctor, and on learning just what Maturin had done for him, felt his words to have been wholly inadequate. Indeed, when Stephen came to check on him soon after, Day stumbled a little over his words when he tried to express his gratitude, leading Stephen to ask questions regarding the state of his mind, fully believing the man’s awkward speech to be a sign of continued mental disruption.
“Begging your pardon sir,” said Henry Gouges in a particularly deferential manner when Stephen sat down to dine alongside him, they being members of the same mess. “But we was all wondering where you learned such a marvelous operation as the one you done on Mr. Day. That weren’t no leeches’ trick, but a real scientifical operation, like.”
“Well as to that,” said Stephen, paying only a little attention, for the beef was particularly good. “Trepanning is actually a relatively common operation for those who have been properly educated in the ways of medical science. There are mentions of the procedure in many ancient writings, detailing such operations occurring in Egypt farther back than Cleopatra’s time. I myself learned the method as part of my studies at Trinity, and used it later in Paris, when I first began to practice alongside several more experienced friends and mentors. I have not done it for some time, however, and I am glad to have been able to get Mr. Day back on his feet again. Many and many a time have I known a man to live through an operation, only to die of complications later. But that does not seem likely in his case, I am happy to say.” He turned his full attention to his dinner, unaware of the astonishment his words had caused among all in earshot.
It was Gouges who spoke first, surprise and a certain reverence in his tone. “Do you mean to say sir, that you are as who should say, a real doctor sir? That is, you’ve been to school for it, like?”
“But of course I am,” said Stephen, surprised in his turn. “Did you not know? I told the captain of my circumstances before and after he offered me this post, and I suspected it had become common knowledge.”
“Which he never said a word, sir, only that you was a far cry better than the common lot of doctors we’ve all seen. And he was certainly right about that sir,” Gouges added hastily, and all those listening nodded emphatically.
“Did he say that indeed?” Stephen murmured, speaking half to himself.
“Well, words to that effect certainly,” said Gouges. “Which he also said he hoped you would stay with us, if we could make you feel welcome here. He said that to Mr. Marshall, when he first mentioned you was coming aboard as his guest. And he’s not the only one sir,” said Gouges earnestly. “We’d all be right pleased if you were to stay and become our real surgeon, that is with a warrant and everythin’. Ain’t that right mates?” He asked the general assembly, and there were cries of “Hear him!” “Oh yes sir, do please stay!” “We’d be main delighted, your honor!” and other words of support.
Stephen felt a curious emotion rise in his heart at such a sign of welcome. After what Jack had told him concerning the value placed on a good surgeon by the men of the navy, he had expected to be made more or less at home aboard. What he had not expected was the joy the men took in his presence, their faith in his skills, and their evident, eager desire that he should remain with them. He had felt something similar with Jack already, when he had gone so abruptly from the miserably lonely state of not having a friend in the world to confide in, to becoming the close companion of a man who himself desperately needed a friend and confidant. This feeling, this particular warmth that could only be brought about by companionship, by feeling welcome in one’s company, and valued by so many for who he was, was particularly strong at this moment.
Much moved, he smiled at the company and said, “You honor me gentlemen, and I should indeed be quite happy to remain with you all, but we must not be so presumptuous as to tempt fate by hoping too hard. As I understand it, the matter of my official appointment lies not in your hands, nor mine, nor even Captain Aubrey’s. The necessary warrant can only come from powers far higher, and they may not find me suitable for such a post.”
Stephen had spoken in all seriousness, and was surprised when his words were met with a roar of laughter from all assembled. It was Gouges who explained the reason for their mirth.
“Lord love you, sir,” he wheezed, his face quite red. “If the powers that be find you lacking for such a position, then their standards are surely too high for any man to meet! To think of them turning away such a one as you, a genuine certificated physician-oh ha ha ha!”
And so it was. On meeting with Lord Keith, Jack soon related Doctor Maturin’s history, how he had come to be in Port Mahon and join the Sophie, and Jack’s desire that he should be given a warrant, for “surely sir, such a man is much too valuable to lose. If we were to turn him away, he should soon be snapped up by someone else, perhaps even the army! Do but think what a coup it would be to secure his services.” And upon hearing of what Maturin had done to the Sophie’s gunner, Lord Keith immediately demanded a telescope and looked out over the bay, where he could see a man with a bandaged head walking about the sloop’s deck, clearly in full possession of his life and his senses. He demanded his clerk bring him paper and pens, and in his own hand, had written an official surgeon’s warrant for Stephen Maturin, M.D. etc, and gave it to Jack for immediate delivery.
“Though I must say I envy you, Aubrey,” Keith admitted as he bade Jack good day. “There is not such another man in the whole squadron, and if he does not find the atmosphere aboard your sloop to his liking, I would be happy to appoint him Physician of the Fleet, based on what you’ve told me about him.”
Jack presented the warrant to Stephen in due order, and the celebration and toasts in the gunroom were repeated throughout the ship, emphatically so by the gunner, Ned Evans, and John Lakey, who had all benefited greatly from Maturin’s skills. Indeed, there was not a man aboard who did not bless his good fortune at having a real physician aboard, and Jack, too, whispered a brief prayer of gratitude for having had such a man put in his way, not only for his skills as a surgeon, but for the real friendship that had sprung so unexpectedly into life.
He is indeed a jewel, Jack thought proudly, glancing across the little cabin to where Stephen lay asleep in his own hanging cot. And I thank God that I have been so lucky as to discover him.
Jack crossed the cabin and, in a brief moment of tenderness, laid his hand on Stephen’s forehead. Stephen shifted a little but did not wake.
“Sleep well, my dear friend,” Jack murmured, turning back to his own cot. “And welcome to the crew.”