{"id":"01KG8AMGMFH4Z26WP7EVK7S8DS","cid":"bafkreicr73ymvpyeechicxyolcuv34rpyo42q5iiypzhvaunee4xm2k4xi","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":9955,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:36.274Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 3","source_file":"01KG89J19NC56FFGBCM2SWEZZY","start_line":9884,"text":"or I can do nothing whatever.”\r\n\r\nThese articles being removed, he snatched off his wig, placing it on\r\nthe gun-deck capstan; then took out his set of false teeth, and placed\r\nit by the side of the wig; and, lastly, putting his forefinger to the\r\ninner angle of his blind eye, spirited out the glass optic with\r\nprofessional dexterity, and deposited that, also, next to the wig and\r\nfalse teeth.\r\n\r\nThus divested of nearly all inorganic appurtenances, what was left of\r\nthe Surgeon slightly shook itself, to see whether anything more could\r\nbe spared to advantage.\r\n\r\n“Carpenter’s mates,” he now cried, “will you never get through with\r\nthat job?”\r\n\r\n“Almost through, sir—just through,” they replied, staring round in\r\nsearch of the strange, unearthly voice that addressed them; for the\r\nabsence of his teeth had not at all improved the conversational tones\r\nof the Surgeon of the Fleet.\r\n\r\nWith natural curiosity, these men had purposely been lingering, to see\r\nall they could; but now, having no further excuse, they snatched up\r\ntheir hammers and chisels, and—like the stage-builders decamping from a\r\npublic meeting at the eleventh hour, after just completing the rostrum\r\nin time for the first speaker—the Carpenter’s gang withdrew.\r\n\r\nThe broad ensign now lifted, revealing a glimpse of the crowd of\r\nman-of-war’s-men outside, and the patient, borne in the arms of two of\r\nhis mess-mates, entered the place. He was much emaciated, weak as an\r\ninfant, and every limb visibly trembled, or rather jarred, like the\r\nhead of a man with the palsy. As if an organic and involuntary\r\napprehension of death had seized the wounded leg, its nervous motions\r\nwere so violent that one of the mess-mates was obliged to keep his hand\r\nupon it.\r\n\r\nThe top-man was immediately stretched upon the table, the attendants\r\nsteadying his limbs, when, slowly opening his eyes, he glanced about at\r\nthe glittering knives and saws, the towels and sponges, the armed\r\nsentry at the Commodore’s cabin-door, the row of eager-eyed students,\r\nthe meagre death’s-head of a Cuticle, now with his shirt sleeves rolled\r\nup upon his withered arms, and knife in hand, and, finally, his eyes\r\nsettled in horror upon the skeleton, slowly vibrating and jingling\r\nbefore him, with the slow, slight roll of the frigate in the water.\r\n\r\n“I would advise perfect repose of your every limb, my man,” said\r\nCuticle, addressing him; “the precision of an operation is often\r\nimpaired by the inconsiderate restlessness of the patient. But if you\r\nconsider, my good fellow,” he added, in a patronising and almost\r\nsympathetic tone, and slightly pressing his hand on the limb, “if you\r\nconsider how much better it is to live with three limbs than to die\r\nwith four, and especially if you but knew to what torments both sailors\r\nand soldiers were subjected before the time of Celsus, owing to the\r\nlamentable ignorance of surgery then prevailing, you would certainly\r\nthank God from the bottom of your heart that _your_ operation has been\r\npostponed to the period of this enlightened age, blessed with a Bell, a\r\nBrodie, and a Lally. My man, before Celsus’s time, such was the general\r\nignorance of our noble science, that, in order to prevent the excessive\r\neffusion of blood, it was deemed indispensable to operate with a\r\nred-hot knife”—making a professional movement toward the thigh—“and\r\npour scalding oil upon the parts”—elevating his elbow, as if with a\r\ntea-pot in his hand—“still further to sear them, after amputation had\r\nbeen performed.”\r\n\r\n“He is fainting!” said one of his mess-mates; “quick! some water!” The\r\nsteward immediately hurried to the top-man with the basin.\r\n\r\nCuticle took the top-man by the wrist, and feeling it a while,\r\nobserved, “Don’t be alarmed, men,” addressing the two mess-mates;\r\n“he’ll recover presently; this fainting very generally takes place.”\r\nAnd he stood for a moment, tranquilly eyeing the patient.\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 3"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AJTJS3AFC49VHXZ381X49","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J19NC56FFGBCM2SWEZZY","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AMGMF104XYMQ9ZR3H7DMF","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"},{"peer":"01KG8AMH6FZANKQ6GAQKNQWWQK","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:39.567Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:48:51.216Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}