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During this period, as with the medical Profession generally, surgery
in the navy was still looked upon as non scientific, and its practitioners,
despite their acknowledged technical skill, having a far lower status
compared to that of the physician. Some considerable time was to pass
before the surgeon was given access to the clinical world then exclusively
occupied by the physician. Until given this access, the surgeon was deprived
of the opportunity to develop his theories by practical proof. With this
lack of opportunity must also be added the absence of anaesthetics and
the general ignorance of asepsis (septicaemia), which combined together
to limit surgery as a very hazardous practice indeed.
However, the general standard of naval surgeons was greatly increased
during the latter part of the 18th century. Many of these young men were
from north of the border, newly qualified with degrees from the newly
established Scottish medical schools of Aberdeen, Glasgow and Edinburgh
universities. Lind, Trotter, Robertson and their contempories not only
raised the standard of medical care to new heights in the navy but also
became luminaries in the history of general medicine.
The role of the surgeon on board ship was akin to that of a floating GP.
He was responsible for everything medical from childbirth to dentistry.
95% of his time would be taken up with treating the usual ailments and
infections consistent with those affecting any group of men living in
a tight, closely knit society for months on end. The subject of this article,
however, is his surgical skills, usually required during and immediately
after action in battle. Considering the conditions under which the naval
surgeon performed his operations, either ashore or afloat, as a surgical
technician he was unsurpassed. His skill was combined with that knowledge
of anatomy and speed of performance, which were vital if the patient were
to stand any chance of surviving the degree of shock involved.
Post-operative infection was anticipated as a matter of course, and even
in the most successful of cases, suppuration of the affected areas was
regarded as quite normal. These wound infections were generally recorded
as “inflammation” in the copious records made by the individual
surgeons and required by The Sick and Hurt board for inspection on completion
of the surgeons tour of duty. Every treatment and operation had to be
recorded in minute detail, including the result. If the surgeon was found
wanting in medical knowledge or skill, his warrant could be withheld.
The two specific inflammations, dreaded by surgeons were gangrene and
particularly, tetanus. Gangrenous tissue was usually cut away, tetanus
and its development into lockjaw was however, a different matter. It was
generally accepted that lockjaw was more likely to follow wounds in a
warm climate. Treatments for lockjaw varied, a seaman of the ‘Montague’
recovered within 9 days, having been treated with warm baths for half
an hour, twice a day, and from 3 to 5 grains of opium by mouth each day
in divided doses. A seaman from the ‘Magnificent’ developed
lockjaw five days after an extensive wound of the upper arm in which there
was wide suppuration. The surgeon in this case applied a plaster containing
twelve ounces of opium to the patients jaws and the patient was able to
open his mouth one half inch within 3 days. He was also treated with large
doses of Peruvian bark (later the base material from which quinine was
extracted), combined with an ounce of nitre and a diaphoretic (perspiration
inducing) drought of 20 drops thebaic tinct. with 30 drops of antimonial
wine!.
By far the greatest cause of death or mutilation in a firefight between
the ships of the period were flying splinters. Naval surgeons found that
close fought actions produced less casualties than actions conducted between
opposing ships at a distance. In close fought actions, the velocity of
cannon balls was so great that that in penetrating the side of a ship
a clean aperture was produced, with few splinters. But a spent ball, travelling
from a distance usually produced a jagged aperture with numerous deadly
splinters by which more men were killed or wounded than by the ball itself.
A curious phenomenon was also noted by naval surgeons of the time called
“wind of ball”. This injury occurred when a cannon ball, in
flight, passed close to any part of the body. It was considered most serious
when passing close to the stomach, leaving no obvious marks, but often
causing almost instantaneous death. Remarkably, it was also noted that
“wind of ball” was never fatal when the ball passed close
to the head.
Burns and flash burns were also common injuries on the gun deck. Treatments
for this were a variety of applications to the affected area including
linseed oil, lime water, cerusa, olive oil and compresses of vinegar.
Another more controversial treatment was a preparation of lead to the
local area, with the warning that such applications should be limited
in order to minimize the danger of lead poisoning through absorption through
the affected area. Amazingly, although surrounded by seawater, the routine
use of saline solution did not suggest itself to the surgeons of the time.
Shock, in association with burns, was recognised, as was the febrile reaction
connected to the inevitable infection expected to these types of wounds.
The universal treatment for this was opiates in large doses by mouth.
Generally speaking, wounds to cavities were regarded as to be so dangerous
as to classify the patient as beyond all hope. Consequently in the navy,
abdominal and thoracic penetrations were accepted as fatal. Copious bleeding
was the only treatment in an attempt to reduce the haemorrhage at the
site of the injury. The wounds themselves came to be classified as gunshot
wounds, incised wounds and puncture wounds. These were treated in three
stages, firstly, that of first aid, being the cleansing of the wound,
removal of foreign bodies and the arrest of haemorrhage. This was followed
by inevitable infection and suppuration of the wound, hopefully allowing
the free discharge of “laudable puss” which it was hoped would
encourage the further evacuation of any retained foreign bodies. The final
stage assuming that the patient had survived thus far, was the process
of healing, usually a long process of granulation as the infection subsided.
With gonorrhoea and its complications almost endemic to the life of the
seamen of the time, naval surgeons were well accustomed to coping with
retention of urine due to strictures of the urethra and surgical measures
for reliving this condition included perforation of the bladder via the
passage of a trocar, either through the perinaeum or sometimes via the
rectum.
Most naval surgeons had a wide experience of treating fractures, particularly
of the extremities, whilst many were well versed in the use of the trephine
and the elevation of depressed fractures of the skull, a very common injury
in the navy of the time.
The most frequent surgical operations to be performed in action were of
course amputations of the limbs. It is in the performance of these cases
that the naval surgeon of the time was perhaps seen at its best. When
it is considered that they were performed without anaesthetics, and that
post-operative infection was accepted as a matter of course, the successes,
which were achieved, can only be viewed as remarkable to the 21st century
mind. The process of amputation was, as it is today i.e., control of the
artery, cutting the muscle tissue to the bone, pulling back the muscle
to reveal the bone, sawing the bone, releasing the muscle tissue, locating
the divided (severed) arteries and blood vessels and applying ligatures
to the same. The difference to today was the sheer speed at which these
operations were completed. A competent surgeon of the time would complete
the above in considerably less than two minutes. They knew that not allowing
for any compromise on their skill factor, the quicker these operations
were completed the better chance of a full recovery for the patient. Having
completed his part of the operation, the patient was passed on to a surgeons
mate for the preparation of the stump. These were either sutured immediately
or left open for a few days to assist in the evacuation of gangrene gas,
depending on the opinion of the surgeon concerned as to which method was
more conducive to the full recovery of the patient. The ligatured arteries
were usually left protruding out of the stump and would drop off in the
fullness of time.
Another remarkable operation was that of an interscapular-thoratic amputation,
which involves the total removal of the arm, shoulder blade and collarbone.
First performed by Surgeon Ralph Cuming at the naval hospital in Antigua
in 1808. A twenty-one year old sailor had been hit by a cannon ball. Cuming
subordinated every consideration to that of speed in order to minimise
pain and shock. Having nowhere to place the tourniquet and no forceps
to hand, he held the great vessels (arteries and large blood vessels)
between thumb and forefinger whilst his assistant tied silk ligatures
around them. Cuming then held the edges of the wound together by means
of adhesive straps and applied a poultice dressing which was also held
in place by adhesive plaster. The patient made a complete recovery and
on his return home was shown to medical students in Bath.
The success of the Royal Navy during this period and its total mastery
of the seas was due in no small measure to the ability of the naval medical
department to give the best of current medical care to its seamen.
We are very fortunate in still having access to many surgeons’ journals
and reports of the time. These primary documents allow us to listen to
the past, first hand, and to fully understand the calibre of these men,
certainly as regards their professional skills, but what also speaks to
us loudly and very clearly is the sheer humanity and care for their patients
extended both to their own side, and their erstwhile enemies. The drunken
butchers of myth certainly did exist in the navy of the mid 1750’s
but by the turn of the 19th century the surgeons of the Royal Navy had
earned the respect of their crews and the gratitude of their country.
Tony Harrison, Surgeon., Historical Maritime Society. |
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