TAMPA BAY--BELLEVUE--UNLADING--A DANGEROUS CUT--HOW TO STOP A BLEEDING
ARTERY--TOM STARBOARD AGAIN
Tampa Bay is a perfect gem of its kind. Running eastward from the gulf
for twelve or fifteen miles, then turning suddenly to the North, it is
so far sheltered from within, that, except in case of severe westerly
gales, its waters are ever quiet and clear as crystal. Its beach is
composed of sand and broken shells of such snowy whiteness as almost to
dazzle the eye, and it slopes so gradually from the land, that, in many
places, a child may wade for a great distance without danger. To those
who bathe in its limpid waters it is a matter of curiosity to see below,
the slow crawling of the conch, while the nimble crab scampers off in
haste, and fish and prawn dart wantonly around. When the tide is down
there is no turnpike in the world better fitted for a pleasure ride than
that smooth hard beach, from which no dust can rise, and which is of
course as level as a floor.
The spot on which Dr. Gordon proposed to build, was one commanding a
view both of the distant fort and of the open sea, or rather of the
green islands which guarded the mouth of the bay. It already contained
a small house, with two rooms, erected by a white adventurer, and
afterwards sold to an Indian chief of the better class. Dr. Gordon had
been originally attracted by the picturesque beauty of its location,
and, on closer inspection, still more interested by seeing on each side
of the chief’s door a large bell pepper, that, having grown for years
untouched by frost, had attained the height of eight or ten feet, and
was covered all the year round with magnificent bells of green and
crimson. The old chief was dead, and the premises had been vacated for
more than a year.
Early in the afternoon the brig anchored opposite this spot, to which
Dr. Gordon had given the name of Bellevue. All hands were called to
assist the ship carpenter and Sam (Dr. Gordon’s negro carpenter), to
build a pier head, or wharf, extending from the shore to the vessel;
this occupied them till nightfall, and the work of unlading continued
through a great part of the night, and past the middle of the next day.
The work was somewhat delayed by an untoward accident befalling one of
the sailors, and threatening for a time to take his life. Peter, the
brother of Sam, was standing on the gangway, with his ax on his
shoulder, just as two of the sailors were coming out with a heavy box.
Hearing behind him the noise of their trampling, he turned quickly
around to see what it was, at the moment when the sailor, who was
walking backwards, turned his head to see that the gangway was clear.
By these two motions, quickly made, the head was brought towards the ax,
and the ax towards the head, and the consequence was that the sailor’s
temple received a terrible gash. The blood gushed out in successive
jets, proving that the cut vessel was an artery. Setting down the box
with all speed, the assisting sailor seized the skin of the wounded
temple and tried with both hands to bring the gaping lips together, so
as to stop the bleeding. His effort was in vain. The blood gushed
through his fingers, and ran down to his elbows. By this time the
captain reached the spot, and seeing that an artery was cut, directed
the sailor to press with his finger on the _heart_ side of the wound.
In a moment the jets ceased; for the arterial blood is driven by the
heart towards the extremities, and therefore moves by jets as the heart
beats, while the _venous_, or black blood, is on its way _from the
extremities_ to the heart; consequently, the pressure, which stops the
flow from a wound in either vein or artery, must correspond to the
direction in which the blood is flowing. [_See note p._ 16.]
While the sailor was thus stopping the blood by the pressure of his
finger on the side from which the current came, the captain hastily
prepared a ball of soft oakum, about the size of a small apple. This he
laid upon the wound, and bound tightly to the head by means of a
handkerchief. It is probable the flow might have been staunched had the
compress been sufficiently tight, but for some reason the blood forced
itself through all the impediments, saturated the tarred oakum, and
trickled down the sailor’s face. During this scene Dr. Gordon was at
his house on the bluff. Hearing through a runner, dispatched by the
captain, that a man was bleeding to death, he pointed to a quantity of
cobwebs that hung in large festoons from the unceiled roof, and directed
him to bring a handful of these to the vessel, remarking, that "_nothing
stopped blood more quickly than cobwebs_."
The sailor was by this time looking pale and ready to faint. Dr. Gordon
inquired of the captain what had been done, pronounced it all right, and
declared that he should probably have tried the same plan, but further
remarked,
"This artery in the temple is oftentimes exceedingly difficult to manage
by pressure. You may stop for a time the bleeding of _any_ artery by
pressing with sufficient force upon the right place; or, if necessary to
adopt so summary a mode, you may obliterate it altogether by _burning
with a hot iron_. But in the present case I will show you an easier
plan."
While speaking he had removed the bandages, and taken out his lancet;
and, to the captain’s amazement, in uttering the last words, he cut the
bleeding artery in two, saying, "Now bring me some cold water."
The captain was almost disposed to stay the doctor’s arm, supposing that
he was about to make a fatal mistake; but when he saw the jets of blood
instantly diminish, he exclaimed, "What new wonder is this! Here I have
been trying for half an hour to staunch the blood by _closing_ the
wound, while you have done it in a moment, by making the wound greater."
"It is one of the secrets of the art," responded the doctor, "but a
secret which I will explain by the fact, that _severed_ arteries always
contract and close more or less perfectly; whereas, if they should be
only _split_ or _partly cut_, the same contraction will keep the orifice
open and bleeding. I advise you never to try it, except when you know
the artery to be small, or when every other expedient has failed. But
here comes the bucket. See what a fine styptic cold water is."
He washed the wound till it was thoroughly cooled; after which he
brought its lips together by a few stitches made with a bent needle, and
putting on the cobwebs and bandage, pronounced the operation complete.
"Live and larn!" muttered old Tom Starboard, as he turned away from this
scene of surgery. "I knew it took a smart man to manage a ship; but
I’ll be hanged if there a’n’t smart people in this world besides
sailors."
The main arteries in a man’s limbs are _deeply buried and lie in the
same general direction with the inner seams of his coat sleeves and of
his pantaloons_. When one of them is cut--which may be known by the
light red blood flowing in jets, as above described--all the bandages in
the world will be insufficient to staunch it, except imperfectly, and
for a time, it must be tied or cauterized. If any one knows the
position of the wounded artery, the best bandage for effecting a
temporary stoppage of the blood, is the _tourniquet_, which is made to
press like a big strong finger directly upon it on the side from which
the blood is flowing. A good substitute for the tourniquet may be
extemporized out of a handkerchief or other strong bandage, and a piece
of corn-cob two inches long, or a suitable piece of wood or stone. This
last is to be placed so as to press directly over the artery; and the
bandage to be made very tight by means of a stick run through it so as
to twist it up with great power.