And heeeere's Chapter Six! Huzzah! As forewarned: quite gory, bloody, etc. Those of weak stomach should not read this... I confess I had a difficult time finishing writing it myself, though I was eating lunch in the school cafeteria at the time... ;-)

6

How to Save a Life

July the twenty-first, 1805

Aboard the HMS Surprise

Diary,

Last night was the longest night I have ever had. It was my first not sleeping a wink, of course, but the life that laid upon my knowledge of my brother's craft weighed more heavily on my heart than ever anything else had…

At first I was uncertain what had happened. Aside from a large purplish lump on his temple where Mr. Mowett said he had been struck briefly by a spar from the falling mizzen, there appeared to be no other damage. Then a lurch of the ship brought the lantern swinging around over the captain's green pallor, and I saw with a sickening drop of my stomach the spreading dark stain on the side of his torn uniform that told me he was bleeding badly. I quickly cut away the fabric with Stephen's spare jackknife, folding his shirt away to reveal the hole torn in his torso. The glint of metal all but pulverized me. Shrapnel.

Mowett was going on about how it had happened: they had all but won, despite the storm that was beginning to churn the sky and waters, when the French privateer – for that is what it had been – sent out a last round of shrapnel along the hull for mere spite. Luckily the winds and the tossing waves had sent it awry, but one blast had made it to the quarterdeck where Jack had been standing. Most of it had peppered the mizzen tops'l and its bearer, sending the already wounded mast crashing down across the quarterdeck with a spar from it barely managing to catch the captain on the head; but apparently enough had found its way to the captain himself.

I ignored Mowett as he ground his teeth and bemoaned the loss of the privateer, who had mysteriously turned tail just as she had gained an advantage, and focused on the captain. I enlisted the help of Mr. Higgins in removing my patient's coat and shirt, swallowing in fear as I swabbed his abdomen and left side with a wet, unavoidably pink-stained cloth. With the excess blood gone, the wound was not as fatal as it had first appeared, but I did not let myself relax. The worst was yet to come.

Shrapnel, as Stephen had lectured me after his fourth voyage sailing under Captain Aubrey, is more debris than anything else; that is to say, very purposeful and well-aimed debris, and more often metal than not. It can also be very deadly when handled properly. Or improperly, I reminded myself, fighting to keep my hand from shaking as I leaned closer to inspect the extent of the damage. The wet, choking scent of fresh blood clogged my nostrils, and I gagged.

"A light, Mr. Higgins!" I managed to splutter, leaning back to get some clearer air. Unfortunately, there was enough wounded to make the entire sickbay smell like a slaughterhouse, and I did not get much relief after that.

Taking a pair of tweezers that had been little-used until now, I leaned down again and forced myself to ignore the smell as I painstakingly removed each glinting piece that I could see. The large intestines were visible from my viewpoint, and I swallowed hard, poking amongst the coils for missed pieces. More than one my fingers slipped near-fatally as the blood on my hand and the tweezers lessened my grip decidedly. Nearly ten men leaned over my shoulders and circled the table, watching in awe and gasping alternately as though I were telling a gory tale. Their murmurs boosted my morale as their awe reached my ears.

"Right proper surgeon-ette she be."

"Aye. Jus' like her brother."

"No foolin' around w' this 'un. She knows what she be doin'."

"All right, gentlemen, all right!" Stephen's voice ordered above the crowd. "Back away; give her room to breathe."

I smiled inwardly. Although their compliments made me feel much better, immense pressure still lay upon my heart, and the extra room gave me more freedom to remember everything Stephen had ever told me about doctoring and surgery. I wiped my sweaty forehead with the back of my wrist, and shook out my nervous limbs before leaning down again. (When I next looked at myself, it looked as though I had a large bloody gash on my forehead.)

When I had everything out I could get, I leaned away and took a great deep breath before continuing. Now came the stitching-up, which was in a way the hardest part. Or at least, it would be for a man. But I was a woman, and had been stitching and doing needlepoint since I was three. Still, the blood on my fingers and the oppressive heat, combined with the smell of the sickbay and the goings-on all around me, served very well to distract me to high Heaven.

At last it was complete, with only a few remaining shards that I dared not remove for fear of rupturing the wall of the intestine, or worse yet, splitting open a major artery. Tying the final knot with something like bedraggled finesse, I washed Jack's abdomen one more time, bandaged it neatly with the help of Higgins, and had Mowett and one of the seamen move him to a spare cot. As I followed, everyone around me touched their forelocks in salute, and at first I thought it was for the captain. Then I saw their reverent expressions and heard through my dead-tired haze their compliments and murmured admiration, and was very humbled by their show of respect.

I was so tired and so moved that I collapsed into a chair near the captain, let out a soft sob, and promptly fell asleep. I was told later that the men fought to keep watch over me and the captain, so as to have the privilege of being my assistant.

The only thing that concerns Stephen and I, as I write this, is the fact that Jack has yet to wake up. We fear that the spar may have caused a concussion, and possible brain damage. Mr. Mowett has taken over temporary command, and we are making for the nearest land – America – to restock and get ourselves in order – and possibly seeing a professional brain doctor about Jack – before either going home, or continuing our journey…

After writing that last entry I fell asleep again. When I woke, I was told with great glee that the captain and woken briefly and exchanged a few words with Stephen and Mr. Mowett. I was very happy, and was weeping when Stephen demanded that I go to my berth and rest. I denied him fiercely, but in the end he won out. They promised to notify me when Jack next should wake.

Sigh Done at last. There shouldn't be too much more grossness, I think - oh wait, there will be! But not too much until later. Thanks for reading and don't forget to be good and review:-)