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Fix Bay'nets: The Regiment in the Hills, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 15. The Doctor In A Fantigue |
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_ CHAPTER FIFTEEN. THE DOCTOR IN A FANTIGUE Drummond returned to the hospital with his glass, and, to Mrs Sergeant Gee's disgust, installed himself in the window and sat for a couple of hours lightening the painful monotony of Bracy's imprisonment by scanning the movements of the distant enemy hovering about in the hills, and making comments thereon. "Ah," he said at last, "what we want here is a company of gunners, with light howitzers to throw shells a tremendous distance. If we could have that cleverly and accurately done, we could soon scatter the beggars; but as it is--" "Yes, as it is," said Bracy peevishly, "we have no gunners and no howitzers; and if we had, how could they be dragged about among these hills?" "It would be difficult," said Drummond. "There are some fellows crawling out of that west ravine now. Wait till I've focussed them, and--" "No, no; don't do any more to-day," cried Bracy. "I can't bear it. You only make me fretful because I can't be about doing something again." "Of course it does; but what is it, old fellow? Are you in pain?" "Pain? I'm in agony, Drummond. I can't sit up, for I seem to have no power; and I can't lie still, because I feel as if there; was something red-hot burning through my spine." "Poor old chap! I say--think the bullet is still there?" "No, no; it passed right through." "What does the Doctor say?" "Always the same--always the same: 'You're getting better.'" "That's right; so you are," said the Doctor, who had just come to the door.--"Ah, Mr Drummond, you here?" "Yes, sir. Cheering poor old Bracy up a bit." "That's right. How's your wound?" "Horrible nuisance, sir." "Hum! ha! I should like to have; a look at it, but I suppose it would not be etiquette. All the same, etiquette or no, if it does not begin to mend soon come to me." "I will, sir. Good-afternoon. Ta, ta, Bracy, old man. Keep up your spirits." "You needn't go, Mr Drummond," said the Doctor. "I can't stay many minutes, and you can talk to him after I'm gone. Well, Bracy, my lad, wounds easier?" "No. Worse." "That they are not, sir. You told me you felt a little numbness of the extremities." "Yes, sir. Arm and leg go dead." The Doctor nodded. "That agonising pain in the back goes on too," continued Bracy. "Sometimes it is unbearable." "Do you think the bullet is still there, sir?" ventured Drummond. "You stick to your regimental manoeuvres, sir," said the Doctor gruffly. "What do you know about such things?" "Not much, sir; only one of our fellows was very bad that way before you came, and it was through the bullet remaining in the wound." The Doctor nodded slowly, and made an examination of his patient, promised to send him something to lull the pain, and then, after a few cheerful words, went away, sent a draught, and the sufferer dropped into a heavy sleep. The days went on, with plenty of what Shakespeare called alarums and excursions in the neighbourhood of the great fort, the enemy being constantly making desultory attacks, but only to find Graves's boys and Wrayford's men, as they were laughingly called, always on the alert, so that the attacking party were beaten off with more or less loss, but only to come on again from some unexpected direction. Bracy had plenty of visitors, and Mrs Gee told him that this was the cause of his want of progress; but the visitors dropped in all the same, and the patient made no advance towards convalescence. Now it would be the Colonel, who was kind and fatherly, and went away feeling uneasy at the peculiarity of his young officer's symptoms, for Bracy was fretful and nervous in the extreme; now an arm would jerk, then a leg, and his manner was so strange that when the Colonel went away he sent for Dr Morton, who bustled in, to meet the Colonel's eye searchingly. "Doctor," said the latter, "I've just come from Bracy's bedside. He does not get on." "Not a bit," said the Doctor gruffly. "I have been watching his symptoms carefully." "Very good of you," said the Doctor gruffly. "I've been watching your manoeuvres too." This was meant for a sarcastic retort, but the Colonel paid no heed, and went on: "That poor fellow has the bullet still in the wound." "No, he has not," retorted the Doctor. "Then there is something else?" "Tell me something I don't know," said the Doctor gruffly. "You think there is, then?" "I know there is," replied the Doctor. "Do you think, sir, I don't understand my profession?" "Don't be pettish, Morton. I don't wish to interfere; but I am extremely anxious about poor Bracy." "Can't be more so than I am, sir." "Tell me what you feel is wrong." "Bit of iron, I expect, close up to the vertebrae. The abominable missile broke up, and part remained behind." "Then, in the name of all that's sensible, why don't you extract it?" "Because, in the name of all that's sensible, I don't want to see the poor fellow die of _tetanus_--lockjaw, as you call it." "You dare not extract it?" "That's it, sir. The piece--a mere scrap, I dare say--keeps his nerves in a horrible state of tension, but it is beyond my reach. Are you satisfied now?" "Perfectly; but can nothing be done?" "Nothing but leave it to Nature. She may do what I can't." "Danger?" "Of being a cripple; not of anything fatal." "Poor fellow!" said the Colonel sadly. "Yes, poor fellow!" said the Doctor. "I'm doing all I know, and must be off now, for you keep me very busy." Roberts had been sitting with the patient that same afternoon, and towards evening the Major dropped in, glass in eye, and sat talking for a bit, with Bracy fighting hard to keep down his irritability, for the Major was a bad visitor in his way. "You ought to be up and about, Bracy," he said. "Yes; I long to be." "Then why don't you try to brace yourself up--be bracy by nature as well as by name--eh? Ha, ha! Don't you see?" "Because I am so weak, sir," replied the patient grimly. "Ah, that's what you think, my dear boy," said the Major, yawning, and shooting his glass out of his eye. "That's what you think. Now, if you were to pull yourself together and make up your mind to get well you'd soon master that weakness." "Do you think I'm shamming, then, sir?" "Well, no, my dear boy," said the Major, stretching the string of his eyeglass as he picked it up, and then giving the latter a polish with his handkerchief before proceeding to stick it into its place; "I don't think you are shamming, but that you are in a weak state, and consequently have become hypochon--what you may call it. If you were to--" Flick! and a sudden jump of the Major to his feet, as he turned sharply to look down at Bracy. "Confound you, sir! What do you mean by that?" "Mean by--mean by what?" stammered Bracy, who lay perfectly motionless, with his arms by his sides. "Mean by what, sir? Why, by striking at my eyeglass and sending it flying." "No, Major; no, I assure you I--" "Don't prevaricate with me, sir. There's the string broken, and there's the glass yonder. I--I can forgive a certain amount of irritability in a sick man; but this is impish mischief, sir--the action of a demented boy. How dare you, sir? What the dickens do you mean?" "Major, I assure you I wouldn't do such a thing," cried Bracy wildly. "Don't tell me," muttered the Major, striding across to where his glass lay, and picking it up. "Cracked, sir, cracked." "Indeed, no, Major; I am sure I am quite--" "I didn't say you were, sir: but my glass. The last I have, and not a chance of replacing it. How am I to go on duty? Why, you must be mad, sir. You might have struck me." The Major's words were so loud and excited that they brought Mrs Gee to the door, to glance in and hurry away, with the result that directly after the Doctor appeared. "What's the matter?" he cried. "Bracy worse?" "Worse, sir?" cried the Major, who was now in a towering rage, the broken glass, a part of which had come out of the frame into his hand, having completely overset his equanimity. "Worse, sir? Look at that." "Broken your eyeglass?" said the Doctor angrily, "and a good job too. You can see right enough, for we tested your eyes. Only a piece of confounded puppyism, of which you ought to be ashamed." "Doctor Morton," cried the Major, puffing out his cheeks, his red face growing mottled in his anger. "How dare you!" "How dare I, sir?" cried the Doctor, who was quite as angry. "How dare you come here, disturbing my patients, and turning the place into a bear-garden just because you have dropped your idiotic eyeglass and broken it? Do you know I have poor fellows in the next room in a precarious state?" "What! Dropped my eyeglass, sir? I tell you, this lunatic here struck at me, sir, and knocked the glass flying." "What!" cried the Doctor. "Did you do that, Bracy?" "No, no, Doctor," stammered the young man; "I assure you I--I--" "I--I--I!" roared the Major. "How dare you deny it, sir! He did, Doctor. The fellow's stark staring mad, and ought to be in a strait-waistcoat. He isn't safe. He might have blinded me. I came in here quite out of sympathy, to sit with him a little while, and this is the treatment I received. Suppose I had lost my sight." "Look here, Major," said the Doctor, turning to him, after stepping to the bed and laying his hand upon Bracy's forehead; "the poor fellow is as weak as a babe, and could no more have done what you say than flown out of the window and across the valley. You are exaggerating, and--Oh, my gracious!" The Major had just time to hop aside and avoid the Doctor's head, for all at once a tremendous kick was delivered from the bed, and the receiver was propelled as if from a catapult across the room, to bring himself up against the wall. Here he turned sharply, to see Bracy lying perfectly still upon the bed, staring at him wildly, and the Major holding his sides, his always prominent eyes threatening to start from his head, while his cheeks became purple as he choked with laughter and stamped about, trying hard to catch his breath. "Ho, ho, ho! Ho, ho, ho!" he laughed hoarsely. "Oh Doctor! you'll be the death of me. This is too rich--this is too rich--this is too rich!" "Too rich? Be the death of you? I wish it would," panted the Doctor, turning to the bed to shake his fist at Bracy, but keeping well out of reach of his leg, "You treacherous young scoundrel! How dare you play me such a trick as this?" Bracy's lips moved, but no sound was heard, and his eyes looked wildly pathetic in their expression. "I didn't give you credit for such monkey-tricks; but I've done with you now. You've been imposing upon me--you're shamming--malingering, so as to keep out of going on duty again. You might have injured me for life." "Don't bully the poor fellow, Doctor," cried the Major, wiping his eyes, and picking up one piece of his glass which he had dropped. "I don't think he's shamming, he's off his head. Look how his eyes roll. Poor lad! Give him a dose of something to quiet him, for he's as mad as a March hare." "Mad as a March hare!" snarled the Doctor, rubbing himself. "I told you it's all a trick." "I--I--I--d-d-don't care what it is," stammered the Major; "but I wouldn't have missed it for a hundred eyeglasses. Ho, ho, ho! Ho, ho, ho! I can't stop myself. I never laughed so much in my life.--Ha!" he added as he sank into a chair and wiped his eyes; "I feel better now." "Better!" cried the Doctor. "You may as well let me give you something, or you'll be disgracing yourself before the men." That was enough. The Major sprang to his feet, to look threateningly at the Doctor. "Disgrace myself, sir?" he cried furiously. "Bah!" cried the Doctor, and he bounced out of the room, and, forgetting his patients in the ward near, banged the door. "There, you've done it now, Bracy!" cried the Major, calming down, and going up to the bedside. "No more of those games, sir, or I shall hit out too. What's the matter with you? Are you shamming, or are you off your head?" "Beg pardon, sir," said Gedge, entering the room; "the Doctor's sent me to keep watch by Mr Bracy, sir; and he has given me orders that no one is to be near him till he has decided what is to be done." "What! Order me to go?" said the Major fiercely. "You go back to Doctor Morton, and tell him never to dare to send me such a message as that again." "Yes, sir," said Gedge, saluting. "No; stop. This is his own ground," said the Major. "Here, go on with your duty, my lad, and keep a sharp eye on Mr Bracy. He is... or--er-- not quite so well to-day. You needn't tell the Doctor what I said." "No, sir; cert'n'y not, sir," replied Gedge, and he held the door open, standing like a sentry till the Major had passed out, closed it, and I hen stood looking down at Bracy, who lay gazing at him despairingly for some moments before raising his hand cautiously and doubtingly towards his lips. _ |
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