THE STRANGE CASE OF JOHN DOE.
While Kit was picking his way through the pineapple fields and watching
the processes in the sponge yards of Nassau, something was happening on
the other side of the world that would have made the blood jump in his
veins if he could have known of it.
Though it was midwinter in New York, it was then, in January, midsummer
in the city of Wellington, New Zealand, which lies south of the
equator. Doors and windows stood open, and men and animals alike
sheltered themselves as far as possible from the burning rays of the
sun. Even the New Zealand boys, who are not little brown savages with
feathers in their hair, but white boys who speak English and go to
school and wear clothes made after London and Paris fashions--even the
boys found it too hot to enjoy their usual Saturday games.
On the very day that Kit was trying to hurry the pineapple men and
sponge men of Nassau, there was an unusual stir in the big public
hospital of Wellington. Not in the wards where the patients lay; no
matter what happened outside, they were always kept quiet and tranquil.
But downstairs in the Board room, where the Board of Governors of the
hospital meets four times a year to inquire into the management and
arrange the financial affairs, the windows were open and the big table
and soft armchairs all freshly dusted; and in the banqueting-hall
beyond, which the patients never see, but where the governors regale
themselves after their quarterly labors, a long table was spread as if
for a banquet.
Occasionally a carriage drove through the big gates, and one or two
gentlemen stepped out and disappeared in the house surgeon’s private
office. It was evident, to every one who knew the hospital routine,
that the quarterly meeting day had come, and that the governors were
arriving. They were to audit the accounts, to hear complaints, to make
any necessary changes in the staff, and last but by no means least to
eat the good dinner that almost invariably follows the meeting of any
board of charities.
At two o’clock precisely the chairman rapped on the big table and
called the Board to order; and the ten other gentlemen, five on each
side of the table, listened with more or less patience to the reading
of the minutes of the last meeting. Then came a batch of reports; for
the reading of reports and the appointment of committees to consider
them form a large part of the business of such meetings. The house
surgeon’s report gave a favorable account of the hospital’s work in
the last quarter. So many patients had been received, so many had been
discharged cured, and not so many but so few had died. If any stranger
had been allowed to be present, he must have thought it the most
remarkable hospital in the world. In the surgical ward, particularly,
not a single patient had died while undergoing an operation; every
operation had been successful. Some of the medical members of the Board
smiled faintly when they heard this, being familiar with the cheerful
medical custom of calling every operation successful when the patient
does not die on the spot; he may die that night or the next day, but
still the operation is called successful. There was a hush of interest
about the table when the clerk read:--
“The strange case of John Doe need not be further mentioned here, as
the house surgeon will ask the privilege of making a verbal report in
his case at the pleasure of the Board.”
Then followed the steward’s report, showing how many barrels of flour
and sugar and other eatables had been consumed and what they had cost;
and the apothecary’s report of the medicines used, and a dozen more;
and, after a half-hour’s discussion of these matters, that part of the
business was finished, and the chairman announced that he was “now
ready to hear the house surgeon’s report on what has appropriately been
called the strange case of John Doe.”
At this the house surgeon stepped forward with a small memorandum-book
open in his hand. He was a tall, slender man with iron-gray hair and
an extremely professional appearance, slow and accurate in his speech.
“Although this case has already been brought to the attention of the
Board, Mr. Chairman,” he began, “I will briefly rehearse the principal
facts for your further information. This man to whom we have given
the name of John Doe, because his real name is totally unknown to us,
was brought to this port six months ago by the British ship _Prince
Albert_; and being both physically and mentally incapacitated, he
was immediately brought to the hospital. The log of the _Prince
Albert_ showed that on the 27th of last June their lookout saw
a signal of distress flying from a pole on a small unnamed and
uninhabited island in the Pacific Ocean, the latitude and longitude of
which I have a minute of, but do not at the moment remember. The ship
was immediately put about and a boat lowered, and sent ashore under
command of the second mate. The mate found what he at first supposed to
be the dead bodies of four men, all scantily clothed; but on examining
the bodies faint signs of life were found in one, the man whom we now
know as John Doe, who wore nothing whatever but a pair of trousers,
and, like the others, was much emaciated. The only property found
on the island was the small spar which had been set up for a signal
pole; and the plain inference was that the four men had escaped from
some wreck on the spar, without an opportunity to save any of their
property.
“The three men who were certainly dead were decently buried, and John
Doe, who was unable to speak or even to open his eyes, was taken
on board the _Prince Albert_, where under kind and judicious
treatment he improved so far physically that by the time she reached
this port he was able to walk a few steps, though still extremely weak.
But there was no corresponding improvement in his mental condition. He
was not able to speak, and apparently understood nothing that was said
to him. Such was his state when he was received in the hospital.
“It was my opinion, and that of the entire staff, that he was broken
down by the terrible hardships and privations that had caused the death
of his companions, starvation and exposure doubtless chief among them.
Under our treatment he has gained greatly in strength, so that he is
able to move about slowly; and if he were mentally sound I should feel
warranted in discharging him as convalescent. But mentally he is still
incapacitated. His memory is so utterly gone that he does not even know
his own name or country. We have tried every means to arouse him from
his stupor, but he has been able to articulate only six words, and
those indistinctly. They are: ‘I don’t know. I cannot remember.’
“Those few words are sufficient, however, to show that he belongs to
some English-speaking nation, probably either to our own country or
to America, or perhaps to some of the British colonies. And my object
in laying the case before you at this length is to enable the Board
to determine whether under the circumstances he is a fit subject for
further treatment in the hospital. Some question has been raised on
that point on account of the doubt whether the man is even a British
subject.”
“This is indeed an interesting case--a most interesting case!” the
chairman said, when the house surgeon sat down. “I do not remember
that such a problem has ever been presented to us before. Whether this
man, being no longer bodily ill, is entitled to our further treatment
and support, is what we are called upon to decide. I understand from
our worthy chief of staff that he is now strong enough to walk about
without assistance. Would it not be well to bring him into the room,
that we may see for ourselves?”
“Yes, yes; bring him in!” was echoed by several voices. “Let us see
whether we can make him out.”
“And if we find that he is an American,” one of the governors said, “he
should be taken in charge by the consul of his own country.”
“One word more, Mr. Chairman,” said the house surgeon, taking the floor
again. “I must explain that there _is_ some slight ground for
believing that the man is an American rather than a British subject.
The orderly on duty in the exercise yard reported to me several weeks
ago that a ship had that day come into the harbor, flying the American
flag; and that this John Doe, seeing it over the top of the wall,
showed more interest in it than in anything else since his arrival. He
extended his arm toward it, and tried to mutter some words that the
orderly could not make out. With this hint I have had it in mind to try
upon him the effect of the flags of other nations; but anticipating
your desire to see the result for yourselves, I have postponed the
trial until to-day, and have also asked the American consul to be
present--subject, of course, to your wishes. The consul is now waiting
in my office.”
“Let us see John Doe first,” said the chairman; and the house surgeon
pressed a bell button and gave some instructions to the orderly who
answered.
In a few minutes the door opened again, and the orderly escorted into
the room what seemed at first to be a bent and stiffened old man,
leaning heavily on a cane and making his way along with difficulty. His
hair and beard were almost white, and he shuffled in without raising
his eyes from the floor, as if he took no interest whatever in the
proceedings. Led to a chair, he sat down heavily, and half-closed his
eyes. But the professional eyes present saw that it was not age, but
suffering and illness, that had reduced him to this condition. The aged
look in his face was caused rather by pain than by years, for there
were few of the wrinkles in the forehead or about the eyes or mouth
that come with advanced age; and his hands were those of a man in the
prime of life, “sixty-five or seventy,” an unprofessional person would
have pronounced him; but the physicians present knew that he was very
little, if at all, past forty.
“Well, my good man, how are you feeling to-day?” the chairman asked.
“I don’t know,” John Doe answered, without raising his eyes, and with a
dazed look on his countenance.
“When did you leave London?” one of the governors asked; but the man
merely shook his head.
“Or did you come from New York?” another said; but still there was
no answer but a feeble shake of the head. It was too evident that he
understood very little of what was said, and could not answer even that
little intelligently.
Several of the medical members of the Board went up to him and felt
his pulse, examined the hue of his skin, raised the lids and looked
searchingly into his eyes, and felt his scalp carefully for traces of
an old injury, but could find none.
“Suppose that we see whether any of our flags will have an effect upon
him to-day,” the chairman suggested; and turning to the house surgeon
he added, “and invite the American consul to come in and see the
result.”
The surgeon went after the consul, and when they entered the room, they
were followed by an orderly, bearing an armful of folded flags. The
consul was invited to take a chair, after replying to the chairman’s
question that he was acquainted with the circumstances of the case; and
the orderly was directed to unfold one of the flags and show it to the
mysterious patient.
“Try the British flag first,” the chairman said; and the room was as
quiet as death while the orderly shook out the flag, and held it close
to John Doe’s face. But the feeble man paid no more attention to it
than he had paid to the questions.
“Now the French flag,” the chairman ordered; and still John Doe did not
raise his eyes from the floor.
“The American flag,” said the chairman. This was the test; and as the
orderly held out his arm with the beautiful stars and stripes hanging
over it, the members of the Board leaned forward eagerly to watch the
result.
For a moment John Doe did not seem to see the flag. But presently his
sunken eyes caught the brilliant red and white stripes, and instantly a
change was noticed in his face. A look of semi-intelligence came over
it that none present had seen there before. Leaning the cane between
his knees, he stretched out one hand and drew the orderly closer to
him, and with the other hand stroked the stripes as lovingly and gently
as he might have stroked a kitten or the head of a pet child. His lips
moved, and it was plain that he was trying to utter words that would
not come. And the hush in the room became still deeper when after a few
moments of this the feeble man drew the back of his hand across his
eyes to wipe away the moisture.
“That will do, Mr. Orderly; you can take the flags away,” the chairman
said; and every man in the room noticed that John Doe kept his eyes
fixed upon the flag until it was folded and carried away.
“If this remarkable experiment has had the same effect upon you as
upon me, gentlemen,” the chairman continued, “you have seen that the
sight of an old friend has for a moment roused the slumbering faculties
of this poor man’s brain. I have no longer any doubt that he is an
American; and I should like to hear the American consul’s opinion of
this strange case.”
“This is one of the most touching things that I have ever seen, Mr.
Chairman,” the consul said, stepping forward. “That this stricken and
unfortunate man, a stranger in a strange land, sick, destitute, almost
bereft of reason, should show this emotion at the sight of my flag, an
emotion that nothing else excites in him, leaves me no room to doubt
that he is my countryman. And yet I am compelled to say that this is
not legal proof of his nationality, and to explain, what most of you
doubtless know, that a consul is only permitted to give substantial aid
to distressed seamen who are beyond doubt citizens of his country. Still
I should be glad to strain a point and send this man home, if I only
knew where to send him; but that is yet one of the mysteries.
“What we have just seen, however, convinces me that his reason is not
dead, only sleeping. Any familiar sight, the face of a member of his
family, even the mention of a familiar name, might restore his lost
memory in an instant. I think you medical gentlemen will agree with
me in this, for you have seen such cases. We shall have within a few
weeks reports from our respective governments giving the names of all
the British and American vessels that were lost last year. It is highly
probable that the mention of the name of this man’s ship may awaken his
memory sufficiently to give us a clue to his identity; and I shall of
course lay the facts before the State Department at once. But meanwhile
I am so firmly convinced that this unfortunate man is my countryman
that I will willingly take upon myself personally the responsibility of
his support.”
The consul had hardly resumed his chair before one of the members of
the Board sprang to his feet.
“Mr. Chairman,” he almost shouted, “it is about two months, as you
know, since I returned from America. While there my interest in
hospital work naturally led me to visit the great hospitals in many of
the large cities. In New York, in Boston, in Chicago, in San Francisco,
in New Orleans, I found that at least ten per cent of all the patients
were British subjects, receiving every possible care and kindness
without question of their nationality. In that land they do not ask
whether a man is an American or a Briton or a Hottentot; the only
question is whether he is sick and in need of help, and if he needs it
they give it to him. I do not wonder that this unfortunate man shed
tears at the sight of his flag. And if we turn him out into the streets
to starve because he is a foreigner, we ought to shed tears at the
sight of ours, though for a widely different reason.”
As the speaker took his seat there was such a furious clapping of hands
that the chairman had to rap on the table for order.
“The Board seems to be so much of one mind,” he said, “that it is
not necessary to put a motion. John Doe will remain an inmate of the
hospital until the Board’s further orders. And now, gentlemen, the
orderly informs me that dinner is waiting. We hope, Mr. Consul, that
you will do us the honor to dine with us.”
At the precise moment when the Board went in to dinner, and the
tottering John Doe was led back to his favorite seat in the sunny yard,
Kit, in happy ignorance of his father’s condition, was learning that a
sponge as big as a bushel basket could be pressed into a small cigar
box.