The Shipmate’s Miracle: A Story of Grit at Sea

In the cruise of the 'Fiery Cross,' now being published in the Boston Journal, 'Kennebecker' graphically describes a sad accident at sea, and the skill of the mate in bone-setting. As the chief mate came upon the quarter deck, I told him to set the mizzen top-gallant sail, and went below. All at once I heard a strange sound or jar or shock, and a simultaneous rush of people aft. I was on deck in an instant, and there lay the English boy, Bill, over the spanker boom. It was he that went to loose the top-gallant sail; he lost his hold, the ship threw him aft as he fell, his feet went between the parts of the peak halyards, and he broke both his legs short off below the knee, falling a distance of one hundred and ten feet. We carried him into the after cabin, and saw the job we had got before us. It was a double compound fracture of the worst kind. The broken bones of each leg had penetrated through the calf, making two dangerous wounds. The medical books were consulted, and it seemed as though both limbs ought to be amputated. But he was young and healthy, and it was cruel to think of mutilating him that way. So we decided to set them. Bowline, the mate, who had performed a similar job on his last captain, took the job in hand. I told the steward to give the patient a glass of Cognac, but the boy, who had not spoken or groaned, now said: 'Please don't, sir. I never tasted it yet. I can have my legs cut off without it.' That was pluck. We closed up his wounds, kept his limbs moist with arnica and rum, and a fan was in motion over him constantly. On the fourth day the inflammation was terrible, but he never complained. I had a fracture-box made, with a hinge under his knee-joints, and then he began to revive. In sixty days we made our first land, Tristan D'Acunha. I took him in my arms, put him in an easy chair, and let him look at the island as proudly as though he had been my own boy. On the ninetieth day, he walked forward to the forecastle well.