{"id":"01KG8AMGMFQRC3KTAVEGE2GNCN","cid":"bafkreifjanhu5jq53i7xbgwimwleiic6whfbh7r6aqf6sdhy7tzuiga67u","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":9600,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:36.274Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 2","source_file":"01KG89J19NC56FFGBCM2SWEZZY","start_line":9528,"text":"the bosom of Cuticle when he looked on this cast. It was immovably\r\nfixed to a bracket, against the partition of his state-room, so that it\r\nwas the first object that greeted his eyes when he opened them from his\r\nnightly sleep. Nor was it to hide the face, that upon retiring, he\r\nalways hung his Navy cap upon the upward curling extremity of the horn,\r\nfor that obscured it but little.\r\n\r\nThe Surgeon’s cot-boy, the lad who made up his swinging bed and took\r\ncare of his room, often told us of the horror he sometimes felt when he\r\nwould find himself alone in his master’s retreat. At times he was\r\nseized with the idea that Cuticle was a preternatural being; and once\r\nentering his room in the middle watch of the night, he started at\r\nfinding it enveloped in a thick, bluish vapour, and stifling with the\r\nodours of brimstone. Upon hearing a low groan from the smoke, with a\r\nwild cry he darted from the place, and, rousing the occupants of the\r\nneighbouring state-rooms, it was found that the vapour proceeded from\r\nsmouldering bunches of lucifer matches, which had become ignited\r\nthrough the carelessness of the Surgeon. Cuticle, almost dead, was\r\ndragged from the suffocating atmosphere, and it was several days ere he\r\ncompletely recovered from its effects. This accident took place\r\nimmediately over the powder magazine; but as Cuticle, during his\r\nsickness, paid dearly enough for transgressing the laws prohibiting\r\ncombustibles in the gun-room, the Captain contented himself with\r\nprivately remonstrating with him.\r\n\r\nWell knowing the enthusiasm of the Surgeon for all specimens of morbid\r\nanatomy, some of the ward-room officers used to play upon his\r\ncredulity, though, in every case, Cuticle was not long in discovering\r\ntheir deceptions. Once, when they had some sago pudding for dinner, and\r\nCuticle chanced to be ashore, they made up a neat parcel of this\r\nbluish-white, firm, jelly-like preparation, and placing it in a tin\r\nbox, carefully sealed with wax, they deposited it on the gun-room\r\ntable, with a note, purporting to come from an eminent physician in\r\nRio, connected with the Grand National Museum on the Praca d’\r\nAcclamacao, begging leave to present the scientific Senhor Cuticle—with\r\nthe donor’s compliments—an uncommonly fine specimen of a cancer.\r\n\r\nDescending to the ward-room, Cuticle spied the note, and no sooner read\r\nit, than, clutching the case, he opened it, and exclaimed, “Beautiful!\r\nsplendid! I have never seen a finer specimen of this most interesting\r\ndisease.”\r\n\r\n“What have you there, Surgeon Cuticle?” said a Lieutenant, advancing.\r\n\r\n“Why, sir, look at it; did you ever see anything more exquisite?”\r\n\r\n“Very exquisite indeed; let me have a bit of it, will you, Cuticle?”\r\n\r\n“Let you have a bit of it!” shrieked the Surgeon, starting back. “Let\r\nyou have one of my limbs! I wouldn’t mar so large a specimen for a\r\nhundred dollars; but what can you want of it? You are not making\r\ncollections!”\r\n\r\n“I’m fond of the article,” said the Lieutenant; “it’s a fine cold\r\nrelish to bacon or ham. You know, I was in New Zealand last cruise,\r\nCuticle, and got into sad dissipation there among the cannibals; come,\r\nlet’s have a bit, if it’s only a mouthful.”\r\n\r\n“Why, you infernal Feejee!” shouted Cuticle, eyeing the other with a\r\nconfounded expression; “you don’t really mean to eat a piece of this\r\ncancer?”\r\n\r\n“Hand it to me, and see whether I will not,” was the reply.\r\n\r\n“In God’s name, take it!” cried the Surgeon, putting the case into his\r\nhands, and then standing with his own uplifted.\r\n\r\n“Steward!” cried the Lieutenant, “the castor—quick! I always use plenty\r\nof pepper with this dish, Surgeon; it’s oystery. Ah! this is really\r\ndelicious,” he added, smacking his lips over a mouthful. “Try it now,\r\nSurgeon, and you’ll never keep such a fine dish as this, lying uneaten\r\non your hands, as a mere scientific curiosity.”\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 2"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AJTJS4FN5MFKBD96AVPYJ","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J19NC56FFGBCM2SWEZZY","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AMGMFQNRRCDCRHTK5HCQ5","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"},{"peer":"01KG8AMGMAZ4ARHWCZJ7DPAVKB","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:39.567Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:48:50.835Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}