Tim Severin - Buccaneer

'Can either of you read or write?' The unexpected question came from a grey-haired man soberly dressed in a dark suit who was standing next to the captain.

Before Hector could answer, Jacques spoke up. 'Not as well as my friend here. He makes maps and navigates, and speaks Latin and Spanish and talks to me in French.'

'I don't want an interpreter. I require an assistant. Someone who's more adept than just a loblolly boy,' said the grey-haired man. From the way he chose his words it was clear that he was well educated.

'That's settled then,' said the quartermaster. He was anxious to close the meeting. 'We take on the big man and his French friend at full share. The other one, if he shows he's any use, can be signed on as mate to our surgeon. His share can be agreed later.'

As the meeting broke up, the grey-haired surgeon walked over to Hector and, after asking his name, enquired, 'Have you any medical experience?'

'None, I'm afraid.'

'No matter. You will learn as we go along. I am Smeeton, Basil Smeeton, and I had a medical practice in Port Royal before coming along on this adventure. Where did you get your Latin?'

'With the friars in Ireland where I grew up.'

'Good enough to converse in that tongue?'

'I think so.'

'Sometimes when discussing a patient's details,' said Smee-ton meaningfully, 'it is better that the patient himself is kept in the dark.'

'I understand. But you mentioned a loblolly boy.'

'Surgeon's helper. Changes dressings and feeds gruel to the bedridden. I'm expecting more than that from you.'

Surgeon Smeeton's urbane manner was at such odds with the rough company aboard a buccaneer ship that Hector wondered why he was there. As if reading his thoughts, Smeeton went on, 'Where we are going — which, incidentally, is a land called Darien on the Main - I expect we will be meeting peoples and races whose practice of medicine is very different from ours. Much may be learned from them, perhaps in surgery but more likely in the use of plants and herbs. It is a subject which interests me greatly. I hope you'll be able to help me with my enquiries.'

'I will do my best,' Hector promised.

'There should be plenty of time for research as we won't be the only medical team with the expedition. Every crew like ours recruits at least one surgeon to sail with them, sometimes two or three. You might say that they enjoy the best medical services that their plunder - or prize as they prefer to call it -can buy.' He gave a wry smile. 'They even take out insurance against injury.'

'How can that be?' asked Hector. He did not think that Captain Harris's crew looked wealthy enough to afford medical care.

'If a man gets permanently disabled during the cruise, he receives a special bonus at the end when the quartermaster divides up the prize - this much for a lost eye, more for a limb that has to be amputated, or a hand blown off, and so on. The rates are all agreed at the start when the crew sign their mutual agreement. Very enlightened.'

By now Jacques had reappeared, a brand new musket in his hands. He was looking pleased with himself. 'How about this! Latest model flint lock issued by the quartermaster. Gave one to Jezreel as well.' He pulled back the cock and squeezed the trigger. A shower of sparks fell from the striking plate. 'No more fiddling around and keeping slow match dry in the rain.' He turned the gun over to show Hector the gunsmith's mark. 'What's more, it's French-made. Look, magasin/ royal. God only knows how it got here from King Louis's armoury.'

Hector took him aside and said in a low voice. 'Are you sure that you want to join up with this crew?'

'Too late. Jezreel and I have already signed articles. We are promised one full share of any loot after the investors have been repaid. You'll be able to put in for your own share as soon as you've proved your worth. Why, you may even get a surgeon's share and a half, and that's as much as the gunner and the carpenter.'

'What about the Bay Men who are being left behind?'

'Oh, they'll be picked up by other ships passing this way,' Jacques said casually.

'But from what the surgeon just told me, we will be away for some time and I had been hoping to get back to Jamaica.'

'But you only recently left there . . .' began Jacques. He paused and gave Hector a shrewd glance. '. . . any special reason?'

When Hector did not reply, the Frenchman rolled his eyes and said, 'Don't tell me! It's a woman.' Hector felt himself starting to blush. 'Who is she then?' Bourdon asked, smirking. 'Just someone I met.'

'Just met! And you were hardly there any time at all. She must be exceptional.'

'She is.' Hector was increasingly tongue-tied, and fortunately Jacques detected his embarrassment.

'All right then. I won't say any more. But don't be too surprised if she breaks your heart.'

The surgeon wasted no time introducing Hector to his new duties. As soon as the ship had set sail, he led Hector to where a sailor was sitting in a quiet corner of the deck, with a bandage round his leg.

'Did you ever see a Fiery Serpent?' Smeeton asked.

'No, I don't think so.'

'Then I'll show you one.' Addressing the sailor, he said, 'Now, Arthur. Time to take a pull.'

The sailor carefully unwrapped the bandage and Hector saw that it covered a small stick attached to his leg by a thin brown thread.

'Watch carefully, Hector. I want you to do this job in future.' The surgeon took the stick between finger and thumb and rotated it very, very gently, winding in the thread. Looking closely, Hector saw that he was pulling the thread out of the flesh of the leg. 'That's your living Fiery Serpent. Getting it out hurts like the devil,' announced the surgeon. 'Strain gently, just enough to ease it out, an inch or two at a time, morning and evening. Pull too hard, and the creature will snap, and disappear back inside the flesh. Then you get an infection.' Turning to the sailor, he said. 'You may put back the bandage. Tomorrow my assistant will take a turn or two.'

As they walked away, Hector asked, 'What length will the serpent be?'

'Two feet would be normal,' replied the surgeon. 'Of course it is no serpent at all, but a flesh-eating worm. It causes a burning sensation as it is drawn out, hence the name.'

'And how does the victim acquire such a parasite?'

Smeeton shrugged. 'We have no idea. That is the sort of knowledge we may gain from enquiry among the native peoples. Right now you can put your Latin to use by helping me arrange the contents of my medicine chest. I threw it together in a hurry when leaving Port Royal and it is still in disorder.'

He brought Hector to a small cabin under the foredeck. 'As surgeon,' he said, pulling out a leather chest from where it had been wedged in a corner, 'I have the privilege of a cabin to myself, because it can also be rigged as a sick bay. Everyone else, even our captain and the quartermaster, has no right to any special accommodation. At night everyone lies down and sleeps wherever he wishes on the ship, on the plank as they say.'

He undid a strap and threw back the lid of the medicine chest. Inside was a jumble of phials and jars, small wooden containers, packets wrapped in paper and cloth, and objects which looked like dried plants, as well as an array of metal implements which reminded Hector of a carpenter's tool kit.

'Before we sailed, I was provided with one hundred pieces of eight from the common purse to stock it with what I considered might be needed.'

Smeeton reached in and picked out what looked like a pair of tongs with rounded tips. He snapped the jaws together with a clacking sound. 'The speculum ani,' he announced, 'useful for dilating the fleshy lips of a wound when extracting a bullet. In fact it is designed for dilating the arse gut.' He gave Hector an amused glance. 'You might think that a surgeon's work on such a venture as ours would be concerned mostly with the effects of battle, but it is not.'