HUMPHRY PRACTISES AS A SURGEON—ON HIMSELF.
Humphry by this time desired some little recreation. He had been at work
for many weeks uninterruptedly—his days given to his profession, and his
leisure, in the evenings, devoted to the prosecution of his scientific
discoveries; and what with the exhaustion of continuous thought, and the
vexation at his inability to perfect the lamp, from which he had such
high hopes of honour, the lad felt incompetent to resume his labours
until his mind, by diversion, had recovered somewhat of its ordinary
elasticity.
Accordingly, he determined upon enjoying a day or two’s fishing with his
uncle Millett—for this was Humphry’s favourite pastime throughout life;
and the sport, his biographer tells us, “was alike his relief in toil and
his solace in sorrow.”[49]
It was now spring, moreover, when the small streams, the youth knew, were
in the best state for angling—turbid, in a slight degree, from the mild
rains common in April and May; so Humphry, having arranged his tackle
on the over-night, sallied forth the next morning to join his uncle at
Marazion.
The lad’s fishing costume was singular enough to claim some notice. It
consisted of an entire suit of green—that colour being considered by
him the most likely to elude the observation of the fish. The coat was
half covered with lappets of the many pockets for holding the necessary
tackle; and his hat (which was a round felt one, with a broad brim like a
wagoner’s), had been dyed of the same colour as his clothes by a pigment
of his own composition; while round the hemispherical crown were coiled
a series of fine lines, each terminating in some peculiarly-coloured
artificial fly: so that the hat appeared somewhat like a clod of turf
upon which so many bees and moths had settled. His legs, again, were
encased in a huge pair of jack-boots, which, for the convenience of
wading through the water, reached above his knees; indeed, as Macbeth
says of the witches, “He looked not like an inhabitant o’ the earth, and
yet was on’t.”[50]
[Illustration: HUMPHRY EQUIPPED FOR A FISHING EXCURSION.—Page 319.]
Thus equipped, Humphry, as we said, sallied forth, with the joints of his
rod strapped together—like a small bundle of fagots—and resting on his
shoulder, while at his back projected the wicker fish-basket, as if it
were a huge cartouche-box. Over the other shoulder were slung the heavy
jack-boots, and at his side ambled his favourite water-spaniel “Chloe,”
her long tail wagging as she stopped now and then to look up in her
master’s face, for she seemed to be as delighted as the boy himself at
the anticipation of the sport that she knew was about to ensue.
The youth paused occasionally to fondle the knowing creature, for he had
her since a pup—having begged the gift of her when she was taken from her
mother, and about to be drowned with the rest of the litter as soon as
born, and it was only by great care that he had been able to rear her,
so that the two were as attached to each other as any human friends
could be; nor did Humphry treat her as a dumb animal, but spoke to her as
though she understood every word he said: and, perhaps, in his heart, the
boy (with his half-poetic and half-metaphysic theories) _believed_ she
did.[51]
* * * * *
It was late that evening before the couple returned from the day’s sport,
and then Chloe carried in her mouth a small basket containing a portion
of the spoil, for Humphry’s wicker knapsack was not capacious enough for
the whole, as he and his uncle Millett—so runs the record—had caught
no less than “seven dozen trout in the rivulet and mill-pond near the
residence of the Rev. Mr. Giddy, in the parish of St. Earth.”
Humphry’s success at his sport had made him too light-hearted to feel
the fatigues of the day, and although he was somewhat foot-sore from the
long use of the heavy boots he now carried over his shoulder, the boy
and Chloe _jogged_ merrily past the tanneries at the extreme west of the
town; for the dog knew as well as her master, by the leathery smell that
filled the air at that quarter, that they were not far from home _then_;
and Humphry, as he patted the fond animal, promised her a good supper of
fish for all that she had done that day.
As they passed down Market-Jew Street the oil-lamps and candles were
being lighted in some of the little shops, and Humphry saw, as he looked
towards the Town-Hall at the end of the street, that the sun had long
since set, for the sky was grey with the thickening dusk, and the stars
were beginning to peep out of the haze, one after another, through the
darkening firmament.
At length the Town-Hall itself was reached, and the youth was telling
Chloe that she should soon have her supper now, when suddenly a loud cry
was heard. As the lad turned round towards the street that led to Madern
Church to ascertain the cause of the noise, he beheld to his horror a
huge dog, at full speed, hurrying in that direction, white with foam
at the mouth, and followed by a mob of affrighted people, hooting and
hallooing at its heels. Some of the men were armed with pikes, and others
carried muskets, intent on the destruction of the rabid animal.
Humphry, with Chloe still by his side, was within a few paces of the
furious creature. The boy saw in an instant that flight was impossible,
and dreading lest his favourite dog should be attacked, he shouted
“Back! back!” to her in his most commanding tone. The order, however,
was too late, for Chloe, being a little in advance of her master, had
already attracted the notice of the infuriated brute, and Humphry saw
her danger at a glance. In another moment his own dog would be seized by
the rabid one, and the slightest graze from its teeth he knew would be
sufficient to render Chloe’s immediate destruction a matter of duty. It
was no time for reflection, so the excited boy, eager to save the life of
his favourite spaniel, rushed past her with his heavy fishing-rod raised
high in the air, and ready to fell the dangerous brute to the earth.
Ere he could aim a blow, however, the hunted dog had fastened on
Humphry’s leg, and fixing his fangs in the flesh, inflicted a wound that
made the lad shriek again with the suddenness of the pain.
The cry of her master brought Chloe instantly to the rescue, and dropping
her basket of fish she sprang, yelping, towards the savage brute. Humphry
knew the peril of the encounter, and finding the animal about to relax
its hold of his flesh, he seized it by the neck and held its head firmly
to the ground, while the townsfolk rushed immediately to the spot, and
with their weapons soon put an end to all the danger.
“Tha bee’st bitten, Master Humphry,” shouted Malachy Carteret, as he drew
his adze from the head of the animal; “run tha to Dr. Borlase directly,
and ha’ the bite looked to, or tha life, poor boy, a’n’t worth a dried
pilchard.”
Then came Jan Penberthy the miller—as white as plaster-cast in his
working dress—and he, with a cluster of others behind, were anxious in
their inquiries as to what was the nature of the wound, while each had
some novel and different remedy to recommend.
Humphry, however, knew sufficient of his profession to be aware that it
was no time for hesitation; so, while the eager throng crowded around
him, he raised the leg of his trousers, and observing the marks of the
animal’s teeth in his flesh, he deliberately drew his knife from his
pocket, and there, upon the spot, cut out the lacerated part without a
wince.
This striking instance of the boy’s intrepidity was hailed with wonder by
the people about him, and one and all were loud in their praises of his
courage and decision. Many who had known him from a child rushed up and
shook him warmly by the hand, while others, who had been the companions
of his father, declared he was Robert Davy’s own son every inch of
him—indeed all there had some encouraging word to say or some kindness to
proffer.
Humphry, however, was too sick and faint from loss of blood to be able
to listen to the remarks of those about him; so, having tied his
handkerchief round the wound, he begged Malachy Carteret to help him home
to Dr. Borlase’s. And as the little carpenter curled the boy’s arm about
his neck Humphry limped along with Chloe at his side, who kept looking up
sadly in his face, as if she was aware of all that had happened, while
the boy exclaimed as he went, “Thank God I have saved your life, poor
Chloe, even though it be at the expense of my own.”
Following in the wake of Humphry and Malachy walked many of the crowd—one
carrying the boy’s fishing-rod, another his jack-boots, and another the
basket of trout that Chloe had dropped in the road; and as they went
along, they wondered among themselves whether Master Humphry would get
the better of the bite; and some told curious country tales as to how the
poison had remained in the blood for years afterwards, so that a person’s
life was never safe from it.
On reaching the surgery, Humphry found that Mr. Borlase had been called
to visit a patient in the country that evening; so, being left to his
own resources, he proceeded forthwith to apply some lunar caustic to
the wound himself, and having done this, he begged Mrs. Foxell (who was
frightened to tears at the dangerous accident he had met with) to make
his excuses to her brother, the doctor, when he returned, for the poor
boy told her he was anxious to reach his mother’s house before the news
of his having been bitten by a mad dog was carried home, so that he might
lighten her alarms on his account.
Humphry, however, had barely taken leave of Mrs. Foxell before Mrs. Davy
herself rushed into the surgery, half frantic with fear at what she had
heard; and she no sooner caught sight of him than she fell upon his neck,
and wept and laughed by turns, hysteric with the intensity of her emotion.
The boy endeavoured to assuage her, assuring her that from the promptness
and vigour of the remedies he had applied there was little cause for
alarm. But to no avail: the poor woman was satisfied her darling boy was
doomed to the most frightful of all deaths sooner or later, saying, “that
if she was deprived of him her cup of bitterness would be full indeed.”
Then the heavy privations she had already suffered in life rose again
to her mind, and in the agony of her despair at the calamity which now
threatened her she wrung her hands, and cried aloud to God to have mercy
upon her.
Nor could she in any way be soothed until the lad told her it was
necessary for him at such a time to remain in perfect quietude, and that
the least excitement might develope the very symptoms which she dreaded.
This had the desired effect. Such was her love and care of the boy,
that not another tear did she afterwards shed in his presence; but,
dismissing her own trials, she talked to him only of the subjects she
knew he delighted in; and, when she had him removed to her own house, she
sat by his bed, day after day and night after night, reading to him from
works on the different sciences till his eyes were closed in sleep, and
then the poor widow would fall upon her knees, and with her pent-up tears
streaming in secret from her eyes, and her voice choked with her sobs,
pray the Great Ruler of All to spare the only protector left her.
[Illustration: HUMPHRY’S MOTHER READING TO HIM DURING HIS ILLNESS.—Page
326.]