{"id":"01KG8AMDKFRB5YZ6BH53HPHD3D","cid":"bafkreie57nu7y7rnrgjexqdtudf6lzgibhgyfwgag5rpoxffzztrie5jb4","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":12689,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:36.278Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 1","source_file":"01KG89J19NC56FFGBCM2SWEZZY","start_line":12622,"text":"laid out and surveyed.\r\n\r\n“Strip!” was the answer, and, rolling up his gold-laced cuff, he\r\nproceeded to manipulate me. He punched me in the ribs, smote me across\r\nthe chest, commanded me to stand on one leg and hold out the other\r\nhorizontally. He asked me whether any of my family were consumptive;\r\nwhether I ever felt a tendency to a rush of blood to the head; whether\r\nI was gouty; how often I had been bled during my life; how long I had\r\nbeen ashore; how long I had been afloat; with several other questions\r\nwhich have altogether slipped my memory. He concluded his\r\ninterrogatories with this extraordinary and unwarranted one—“Are you\r\npious?”\r\n\r\nIt was a leading question which somewhat staggered me, but I said not a\r\nword; when, feeling of my calves, he looked up and incomprehensibly\r\nsaid, “I am afraid you are not.”\r\n\r\nAt length he declared me a sound animal, and wrote a certificate to\r\nthat effect, with which I returned to the deck.\r\n\r\nThis Assistant Surgeon turned out to be a very singular character, and\r\nwhen I became more acquainted with him, I ceased to marvel at the\r\ncurious question with which he had concluded his examination of my\r\nperson.\r\n\r\nHe was a thin, knock-kneed man, with a sour, saturnine expression,\r\nrendered the more peculiar from his shaving his beard so remorselessly,\r\nthat his chin and cheeks always looked blue, as if pinched with cold.\r\nHis long familiarity with nautical invalids seemed to have filled him\r\nfull of theological hypoes concerning the state of their souls. He was\r\nat once the physician and priest of the sick, washing down his boluses\r\nwith ghostly consolation, and among the sailors went by the name of The\r\nPelican, a fowl whose hanging pouch imparts to it a most chop-fallen,\r\nlugubrious expression.\r\n\r\nThe privilege of going off duty and lying by when you are sick, is one\r\nof the few points in which a man-of-war is far better for the sailor\r\nthan a merchantman. But, as with every other matter in the Navy, the\r\nwhole thing is subject to the general discipline of the vessel, and is\r\nconducted with a severe, unyielding method and regularity, making no\r\nallowances for exceptions to rules.\r\n\r\nDuring the half-hour preceding morning quarters, the Surgeon of a\r\nfrigate is to be found in the sick-bay, where, after going his rounds\r\namong the invalids, he holds a levee for the benefit of all new\r\ncandidates for the sick-list. If, after looking at your tongue, and\r\nfeeling of your pulse, he pronounces you a proper candidate, his\r\nsecretary puts you down on his books, and you are thenceforth relieved\r\nfrom all duty, and have abundant leisure in which to recover your\r\nhealth. Let the boatswain blow; let the deck officer bellow; let the\r\ncaptain of your gun hunt you up; yet, if it can be answered by your\r\nmess-mates that you are “_down on the list_,” you ride it all out with\r\nimpunity. The Commodore himself has then no authority over you. But you\r\nmust not be too much elated, for your immunities are only secure while\r\nyou are immured in the dark hospital below. Should you venture to get a\r\nmouthful of fresh air on the spar-deck, and be there discovered by an\r\nofficer, you will in vain plead your illness; for it is quite\r\nimpossible, it seems, that any true man-of-war invalid can be hearty\r\nenough to crawl up the ladders. Besides, the raw sea air, as they will\r\ntell you, is not good for the sick.\r\n\r\nBut, notwithstanding all this, notwithstanding the darkness and\r\ncloseness of the sick-bay, in which an alleged invalid must be content\r\nto shut himself up till the Surgeon pronounces him cured, many\r\ninstances occur, especially in protracted bad weather, where pretended\r\ninvalids will submit to this dismal hospital durance, in order to\r\nescape hard work and wet jackets.\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 1"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AJVA0EMS3G19D4W00145P","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J19NC56FFGBCM2SWEZZY","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AMDKGR52XSH4SZNR884VA","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:36.463Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:48:53.710Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}