The Unknown Shore. Patrick O’Brian

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      Tobias thought it as well to change the subject, and observed, ‘Here are bandages; here are needles and sutures. If we were to make a hole in this piece of wood with the trepanning-iron and pass a bandage through it, we could fasten the screen, by sewing the flaps as though it were a Gemelli’s prosection.’

      ‘Very good,’ said Mr Eliot, whose temper had been largely restored by a saline draught and a blue pill; and seizing the trepan he bored the standard with a skill and celerity that reflected much upon the gratitude of the second lieutenant of the Sutherland. Speed is of vital importance to those who must operate without anaesthetics, and Mr Eliot, seconded by Tobias, whipped up the canvas erection as if they were racing against a stop-watch.

      ‘It will do,’ said the surgeon, snipping the last suture and standing back, as if from a patient. ‘About two minutes, I believe. Now I will leave you, Mr Barrow, and I shall expect to see you at eight o’clock in the morning, abaft the foremast: the rest of the day is your own. If there is anything you want, pass the word for one of the loblolly-boys, or come to my cabin, which is on the starboard side of the half-deck, next to the master’s. I dare say his mates will invite you to mess with them.’ With these words he walked off, followed by his attendant, leaving Tobias in the cockpit; leaving him, too, in a state of confusion. He sat in the gloom, repeating ‘abaft the foremast’ in an undertone, and trying to reconcile his ideas of the healthiness of a sea-going life – unlimited fresh open air, and light – with this appallingly fetid den in the darkness. He tried to remember the way by which he had been led into the cockpit; he wondered whether it would be improper to leave it, whether he would ever be fed, and if so, where. A little later there was a strange drumming noise, followed by an unrestrained bawling and hallooing: a body of men rushed along the deck, lit now by occasional gleams and the opening of ports, and the canvas walls of Tobias’ berth bulged inwards as human forms blundered past it, to vanish as suddenly as they had come, with a spirited howl.

      ‘If I had had more presence of mind,’ said Tobias aloud, feeling his way slowly out of the cockpit, ‘I would have asked them the way. It might not have looked well, however: and I shall certainly find it myself, sooner or later.’ He was particularly anxious not to expose Jack as the possessor of a discreditably ignorant friend; he had, without being able to define the immediate causes, been aware of Jack’s uneasiness on several occasions, and although for himself he was totally indifferent to public opinion, he now, on reaching the main well-pump ladder, crept silently down it into the hold.

      When he had crawled over six of the lower futtocks, he found himself against the bulkhead of the bread-room, and here he was obliged to stop, for there was no way of getting farther aft. He was entirely surrounded by vast shrouded forms, very faintly to be surmised by the strangled remnant of light that filtered down through four successive gratings: rats moved about, and the unseen bilges slopped drearily underfoot. He no longer knew which way round he was.