The Young Marooners on the Florida Coast. Goulding Francis Robert
with sufficient force upon the right place; or, if necessary to adopt so summary a mode, you may obliterate it altogether by burning with a hot iron. But in the present case I will show you an easier plan."
While speaking he had removed the bandages, and taken out his lancet; and, to the captain's amazement, in uttering the last words, he cut the bleeding artery in two, saying, "Now bring me some cold water."
The captain was almost disposed to stay the doctor's arm, supposing that he was about to make a fatal mistake; but when he saw the jets of blood instantly diminish, he exclaimed, "What new wonder is this! Here I have been trying for half an hour to staunch the blood by closing the wound, while you have done it in a moment, by making the wound greater."
"It is one of the secrets of the art," responded the doctor, "but a secret which I will explain by the fact, that severed arteries always contract and close more or less perfectly; whereas, if they should be only split or partly cut, the same contraction will keep the orifice open and bleeding. I advise you never to try it, except when you know the artery to be small, or when every other expedient has failed. But here comes the bucket. See what a fine styptic cold water is."
He washed the wound till it was thoroughly cooled; after which he brought its lips together by a few stitches made with a bent needle, and putting on the cobwebs and bandage, pronounced the operation complete.
"Live and larn!" muttered old Tom Starboard, as he turned away from this scene of surgery. "I knew it took a smart man to manage a ship; but I'll be hanged if there a'n't smart people in this world besides sailors."
The main arteries in a man's limbs are deeply buried and lie in the same general direction with the inner seams of his coat sleeves and of his pantaloons. When one of them is cut-which may be known by the light red blood flowing in jets, as above described-all the bandages in the world will be insufficient to staunch it, except imperfectly, and for a time, it must be tied or cauterized. If any one knows the position of the wounded artery, the best bandage for effecting a temporary stoppage of the blood, is the tourniquet, which is made to press like a big strong finger directly upon it on the side from which the blood is flowing. A good substitute for the tourniquet may be extemporized out of a handkerchief or other strong bandage, and a piece of corn-cob two inches long, or a suitable piece of wood or stone. This last is to be placed so as to press directly over the artery; and the bandage to be made very tight by means of a stick run through it so as to twist it up with great power.
CHAPTER IV
It is scarcely possible, for one who has not tried it, to conceive the utter confusion which ensues on removing, in a hurry, one's goods and chattels to a place too small for their accommodation. Oh! the wilderness of boxes, baskets, bundles, heaped in disorder everywhere! and the perfect bewilderment into which one is thrown, when attempting the simplest act of household duty.
"Judy," said Mary to the cook, the evening that they landed, and while the servants were hurrying to bring under shelter the packages which Dr. Gordon was unwilling to leave exposed to the night air, "Judy, the sun is only about an hour high. Make haste and get some tea ready for supper. Father says you need not cookanything, we can get along on cheese and crackers."
Well, surely, it sounded like a trifle to order only a little tea. Mary thought so, and so did Judy, – it could be got ready in a minute. But just at that moment of unreadiness, there were some difficulties in the way which neither cook nor housekeeper anticipated. To have tea for supper ordinarily requires that one should have fire and water, and a tea kettle and a tea pot, and the tea itself, and cups and saucers and spoons, and sugar and milk, and a sugar pot and milk pot, besides a number of other things. But how these things are to be brought together, in their proper relation, and in a hurry, when they are all thrown promiscuously in a heap, is a question more easily asked than answered.
The simple order to prepare a little tea threw poor Judy into a fluster. "Yes, misses," she mechanically replied, "but wey I gwine fin' de tea?"
Mary was about to say, "In the sideboard of course," knowing that at home it was always kept there, when suddenly she recollected that the present sideboard was a new one, packed with table and bed clothes, and moreover that it was nailed up fast in a long box. Then, where was the tea? O, now she recalled the fact that the tea for immediate use was corked up in a tin can and stowed away together with the teapot and cups, saucers, spoons and other concomitants, in a certain green box. But where was the green box? She and Judy peered among the confused piles, and at last spied it under another box, on which was a large basket that was covered with a pile of bedding.
Judy obtained the tea and tea-pot and kettle, but until that moment had neglected to order a fire; so she went to the front door to look for her husband.
"Peter!" she called. Peter was nowhere about the house. She saw him below the bluff on his way to the landing. So, running a little nearer, and raising her voice to a high musical pitch, she sung out, "Petah-h! OH-H! Petah! Oh! PEE-tah!"
Peter came, and learning what was wanted, went to the landing for his ax, and having brought her a stick of green oak wood on his shoulder, sallied out once more to find some kindling.
While he was on this business, Judy prepared to get some water. "Wey my bucket?" she inquired, looking around. "Who tek my bucket? I sho' somebody moob um; fuh I put um right down yuh, under my new calabash."1
But nobody had disturbed it. Judy had set it, half full of water, on the ground outside the door, in the snuggest place she could find; but a thirsty goat had found it, and another thirsty goat had fought for it, and between the two, it had been upset, and rolled into a corner where it lay concealed by a bundle. By the time Judy got another supply of water ready it was growing dark. Peter had not made the fire because he was not certain where she preferred to have it built; so he waited, like a good, obedient husband, until she should direct him.
In the meantime, Mary was in trouble too. Where was the loaf sugar to be placed in cracking it, and what should she use for a hammer? Then the candle box must be opened, and candles and candle-sticks brought together, and some place contrived for placing them after they were lighted.
But perseverance conquers all things. Tea was made, sugar was cracked, and candles were both lighted and put in position. Bed-time came soon after, and weary enough with their labour, they all laid down to enjoy their first sleep at Bellevue. Mary and Frank occupied a pallet spread behind a pile of boxes in one room, while their father and the older boys lay upon cloaks, and whatever else they could convert into a temporary mattress, in the other; and the servants tumbled themselves upon a pile of their own clothing, which they had thrown under a shelter erected beside the house.
Early the next morning, two convenient shelters were hastily constructed, and the two rooms of the house were so far relieved of their confused contents, as to allow space for sitting, and almost for walking about. But ere this was half accomplished, Mary, whose sense of order and propriety was very keen, was destined to be thrown into quite an embarrassing situation.
Major Burke, the commandant of Fort Brooke, was a cousin of Mrs. Gordon, and an old college friend of the Doctor, and hearing by the captain of the brig of the arrival of the new comers, he rode over in the forenoon of the next day to see them. Mary's mind associated so indissolubly the idea of company, with the stately etiquette of Charleston and Savannah, that the sight of a well-dressed stranger approaching their door, threw her almost into a fever.
"Oh! father," she cried, as soon as she could beckon him out of the back door, "what shall we do?"
"Do?" he answered, laughing. "Why, nothing at all. What can we do?"
"But is he not going to dine with us?" enquired she.
"I presume so," he replied. "I am sure I shall ask him; but what of that?"
"What, father, dine with us?" she remonstrated, "when our only table unboxed is no bigger than a light stand, and we have scarcely room for that!"
"Yes," he said, "we will do
"Where is my bucket? Who has taken my bucket? I am sure somebody has moved it, for I put it right down here under my new gourd."