Healing
There is a loud knocking on the hatch, and a voice calls out “Stand back down there!”
Margaret scrambles to her feet, then turns so that she can climb over Esperanza’s legs and get below the girl. That should give Shirley room to get out of the way, also.
“Half a moment!” Shirley shouts back. As quickly as he can, he descends the stairs, hopping over the one on which Esperanza lies. He kneels on one knee next to her and gets his arms under hers such that her head will lie on his shoulder. “Drop the bag at the bottom and get her feet, will you? Her room should be safe now.”
“Yes, all right.” But she moves to support Esperanza under knees and shoulders, so that she and Shirley are carrying more from the sides. “Can you start through her door, do you think?”
“Right, here we go!” calls the voice on deck. A waterfall cascades down the recently-vacated stairs, puddling and sloshing as it seeps into the bilge. A drenched sailor carefully descends the stairs, gripping the railing with one hand and leaning into the opposite wall with the other. His face takes on a look of concern as he sees Shirley and Margaret carrying Esperanza.
“Is she all right?” He notices that the three of them are wet. “Has there been a leak? An accident?”
Shirley does not trouble to answer until Margaret and Esperanza are
safely tucked into Esperanza’s room. “No lasting harm done, no leaks,” he
says as he fetches Margaret’s bag, shaking his head at how it has gotten
drenched, and his own sodden jacket. He throws the latter over his shoulder before he turns round again. “The doctor’s ward suffered a severe attack of headache, so the doctor dosed her with laudanum. We dared not leave the girl in her room lest we should have to abandon ship quickly; we got wet waiting on the stairs, that’s all. Any injuries abovedecks? I daresay the doctor would be glad to assist.”
“That’d be welcome. One of the lads took a knock on the head when a spar came down, and the third mate’s got a broken arm. None lost, none killed. Our cap’n’s right clever, and a lucky man besides. None better in the Orient.”
“I believe it!” Shirley says fervently. “And I am very glad to be
sailing with you, all of you. A moment while I fetch Doctor Byrd.”
He knocks on Esperanza’s door. “Doctor? A broken arm and a blow to the head await you abovedecks, if you can leave your ward. I have your bag here, and I can keep an eye on your ward if need be.”
Margaret checks Esperanza; she seems none the worse for the moving about. She gets a dry nightgown out of Esperanza’s trunk, and goes about getting Esperanza out of her wet clothing, into her nightgown, and under blankets as quickly as she can. “I’ll be right out; I’ve just got her settled and into something dry.” She comes out, very much the physician, and takes her bag from Shirley. “If you could sit with her, it would best. She should sleep awhile yet, but if she wakes she is likely to be confused and frightened. Hopefully I shall be back before she wakes.”
Then she turns to the seaman on the stairs. “Is there a place out of the rain where I might care for the injured men?” And as she goes up, Shirley hears “Please give my compliments to your captain and crewmates. Getting us through that storm was a masterly display of seamanship!”
The sailor nods. “I’ve sailed this route for ten years and never seen anything like it! Lucky for us, the Cap’n knows these seas better’n anyone.” He leads Margaret down the corridor as he speaks. “The boys
are in the mess; we didn’t have the time to get them to their bunks.”
“That’s best, anyway. Their bunks would not provide me sufficient space to work. Have the lamps been relit yet? I shall need some light.”
The sailor nods, and moves the lamps closer to the tables where the men are lying. “Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am, but…” he seems nervous, but takes a deep breath and continues. “Some of the
lads are sayin’ that a… lady of quality such as yourself ain’t a proper doctor. You can help them, can’t you?”
She’s used to it, so she only sighs a little. “I won’t know until I see them, but most likely I can. I assure you, I am quite a ‘proper doctor’. I have been in practice in London for five years now.” The cordial, gracious lady reading on deck has vanished utterly; Margaret is every inch the dignified, confident professional. “Now, let me see to the man with the broken arm first. I need to give him something for pain and give it a little time to work before I can examine his arm properly.”
As she speaks, she is setting her bag down, opening it out, and reaching for the bottle of morphine. Every movement is absolutely sure; obviously, she’s done this so many times she barely needs to think about it. She administers the dose to the sailor, telling him what she’s giving him and that the pain will be much less shortly, assuring him that she will do her best to be sure his arm mends good as new. Then she tells the man with him “Let him lie down, but do not allow him to toss about. There will be less damage if the arm remains still.” She turns to the other sailor.
The sailor nods. Any doubts he might have had about a lady doctor have been banished by Margaret’s obvious competence. He stands next to his comrade with the broken arm, ready to assist as necessary.
The head injury appears to be a nasty one; the assisting sailor tells Margaret that the man was hit in the side of the head by a falling spar. In
addition to a nasty scalp wound, his skull has an obvious swelling behind the temple. The patient is unconscious, but breathing regularly.
She takes a brief look, turning the mans head very gently with a hand on his chin. Then she turns to the nearest man. I shall need a basin of water which has been boiled, if that is possible, and another to put soiled cloths in. If there is some left in the kettle from this mornings tea, that will do nicely. She fishes bandage lengths, cotton wool and iodine out of her bag, and sets them on a nearby table.
When water arrives, she first carefully pours a little iodine into it. Then she rinses her hands, pouring water from the basin carefully into the other bowl. Its not ideal, but it will do. Shell refill the first bowl, if necessary. Then shell dip the cotton-wool in the iodine-and-water, and sponge the blood away from the gash. Then shell lift a lamp and hold it close, opening each of the mans eyes gently with the other hand to check his pupils.
Then she’ll reduce the fracture, winding the arm carefully with wet plaster bandages and holding it steady while they dry. She tells the sailor that she will remove the plaster and rebandage it before they disembark in Osaka, when the swelling will have gone down. Then it just needs to heal…about an 8 week process. (She’s adding a couple of weeks because she doesn’t want it to break again the minute the cast is off.) After that, it will take some time to get the strength back, but the arm should be quite sound.
And then she excuses herself, saying that she would like to get into dry clothing herself. “It wouldn’t do for the doctor to get sick because she was careless, now would it? And is it safe to heat some water for tea yet?”
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