Charlie to the Rescue. Robert Michael Ballantyne
key, or—or—pincers,” groaned Raywood, “for extracting—oh! man, couldn’t you pull it out?”
“Easily,” said Charlie, with a smile. “I’ve got a pair of forceps—always carry them in case of need, but never use them unless the patient is very bad, and must have it out.”
Poor Raywood protested, with another groan, that his was a case in point, and it must come out; so Charlie sought for and found his forceps.
“It won’t take long, I suppose?” said the patient rather nervously, as he opened his mouth.
“Oh no. Only a moment or—”
A fearful yell, followed by a gasp, announced to the whole ship’s company that a crisis of some sort had been passed by some one, and the expert though amateur dentist congratulated his patient on his deliverance from the enemy.
Only three of the ship’s company, however, had witnessed the operation. One was Dick Darvall, the seaman who chanced to be steering at the time, and who could see through the open skylight what was being enacted in the cabin. Another was the captain, who stood beside him. The third was the cabin-boy, Will Ward, who chanced to be cleaning some brasses about the skylight at the time, and was transfixed by what we may style delightfully horrible sensations. These three watched the proceedings with profound interest, some sympathy, and not a little amusement.
“Mind your helm, Darvall,” said the Captain, stifling a laugh as the yell referred to burst on his ears.
“Ay, ay, sir,” responded the seaman, bringing his mind back to his duty, as he bestowed a wink on the brass-polishing cabin-boy.
“He’s up to everything,” said Darvall in a low voice, referring to our hero.
“From pitch-and-toss to manslaughter,” responded the boy, with a broad grin.
“I do believe, Mr Brooke, that you can turn your hand to anything,” said Captain Stride, as Charlie came on deck a few minutes later. “Did you ever study doctoring or surgery?”
“Not regularly,” answered Charlie; “but occasionally I’ve had the chance of visiting hospitals and dissecting-rooms, besides hearing lectures on anatomy, and I have taken advantage of my opportunities. Besides, I’m fond of mechanics; and tooth-drawing is somewhat mechanical. Of course I make no pretension to a knowledge of regular dentistry, which involves, I believe, a scientific and prolonged education.”
“May be so, Mr Brooke,” returned the captain, “but your knowledge seems deep and extensive enough to me, for, except in the matter o’ navigation, I haven’t myself had much schoolin’, but I do like to see a fellow that can use his hands. As I said to my missus, not two days before I left ’er: ‘Maggie,’ says I, ‘a man that can’t turn his hands to anything ain’t worth his salt. For why? He’s useless at sea, an’, by consequence, can’t be of much value on land.’”
“Your reasoning is unanswerable,” returned Charlie, with a laugh.
“Not so sure o’ that,” rejoined the captain, with a modestly dubious shake of his head; “leastwise, however unanswerable it may be, my missus always manages to answer it—somehow.”
At that moment one of the sailors came aft to relieve the man-at-the-wheel.
Dick Darvall was a grave, tall, dark, and handsome man of about five-and-twenty, with a huge black beard, as fine a seaman as one could wish to see standing at a ship’s helm, but he limped when he left his post and went forward.
“How’s the leg to-day, Darvall!” asked young Brooke, as the man passed.
“Better, sir, thankee.”
“That’s well. I’ll change the dressing in half-an-hour. Don’t disturb it till I come.”
“Thankee, sir, I won’t.”
“Now then, Raywood,” said Charlie, descending to the cabin, where his patient was already busy reading Maury’s Physical Geography of the Sea, “let’s have a look at the gum.”
“Oh, it’s all right,” said Raywood. “D’you know, I think one of the uses of severe pain is to make one inexpressibly thankful for the mere absence of it. Of course there is a little sensation of pain left, which might make me growl at other times, but that positively feels comfortable now by contrast!”
“There is profound sagacity in your observations,” returned Charlie, as he gave the gum a squeeze that for a moment or two removed the comfort; “there, now, don’t suck it, else you’ll renew the bleeding. Keep your mouth shut.”
With this caution the amateur dentist left the cabin, and proceeded to the fore-part of the vessel. In passing the steward’s pantry a youthful voice arrested him.
“Oh, please, sir,” said Will Ward, the cabin-boy, advancing with a slate in his hand, “I can’t make out the sum you set me yesterday, an’ I’m quite sure I’ve tried and tried as hard as ever I could to understand it.”
“Let me see,” said his friend, taking the slate and sitting down on a locker. “Have you read over the rule carefully?”
“Yes, sir, I have, a dozen times at least, but it won’t come right,” answered the boy, with wrinkles enough on his young brow to indicate the very depths of puzzlement.
“Fetch the book, Will, and let’s examine it.”
The book was brought, and at his teacher’s request the boy read:—
“Add the interest to the principal, and then multiply by—”
“Multiply?” said Charlie, interrupting. “Look!”
He pointed to the sum on the slate, and repeated “multiply.”
“Oh!” exclaimed the cabin-boy, with a gasp of relief and wide-open eyes, “I’ve divided!”
“That’s so, Will, and there’s a considerable difference between division and multiplication, as you’ll find all through life,” remarked the teacher, with a peculiar lift of his eyebrows, as he handed back the slate and went on his way.
More than once in his progress “for’ard” he was arrested by men who wished hint to give advice, or clear up difficulties in reference to subjects which his encouragement or example had induced them to take up, and to these claims on his attention or assistance he accorded such a ready and cheerful response that his pupils felt it to be a positive pleasure to appeal to him, though they each professed to regret giving him “trouble.” The boatswain, who was an amiable though gruff man in his way, expressed pretty well the feelings of the ship’s company towards our hero when he said: “I tell you, mates, I’d sooner be rubbed up the wrong way, an’ kicked down the fore hatch by Mr Brooke, than I’d be smoothed or buttered by anybody else.”
At last the fo’c’sl was reached, and there our surgeon found his patient, Dick Darvall, awaiting him. The stout seaman’s leg had been severely bruised by a block which had fallen from aloft and struck it during one of the recent gales.
“A good deal better to-day,” said Charlie. “Does it pain you much?”
“Not nearly as much as it did yesterday, sir. It’s my opinion that I’ll be all right in a day or two. Seems to me outrageous to make so much ado about it.”
“If we didn’t take care of it, my man, it might cost you your limb, and we can’t afford to bury such a well-made member before its time! You must give it perfect rest for a day or two. I’ll speak to the captain about it.”
“I’d rather you didn’t, sir,” objected the seaman. “I feel able enough to go about, and my mates’ll think I’m shirkin’ dooty.”
“There’s not a man a-board as’ll think that o’ Dick Darvall,” growled the boatswain, who had just entered and heard the last remark.
“Right, bo’s’n,” said Brooke, “you have well expressed the thought that came into my own head.”
“Have