Poker Jim, Gentleman, and Other Tales and SketchesLydston, G. Frank (George Frank)
General
Poker Jim, Gentleman, and Other Tales and Sketches
Lydston, G. Frank (George Frank)
American fiction; Short stories, American
Meanwhile, in the midst of the closely packed throng the stalwart
firemen and policemen pushed their way as best they could, bearing
the bodies of the dead. The work of rescue was going on very slowly.
Even the doctors were not using their skill to the best advantage. In
some instances a veritable throng of them were working, or attempting
to work, simultaneously upon one body. A clear headed layman grasped
the situation and, with the assistance of some of the physicians,
evolved order out of chaos. Three doctors were assigned to each table;
the police cleared out many of the drones in the crowd, and things
began to move more swiftly. The police in general did excellent work.
A glaring exception was a certain well-known captain. Noticing his
insignia of office, I asked him to clear away the people who were
obstructing the passage of the men who were carrying in the bodies. He
replied, “I’ve got no time for you. Hunt up the man who has charge of
the police detail.” And then the heartless brute went on gaping and
getting in the way along with the rest of the morbidly curious.
I wonder if many realize what it means to see dead bodies so numerous
that they might be estimated by the cord. Those who do, may perhaps
picture to themselves the harrowing scenes about those tables where
the physicians worked. As soon as a body was pronounced dead, it was
hurriedly laid aside to make room for a possibly hopeful case. Cases
in which resuscitation was accomplished were carried to the waiting
ambulances and taken to the hospitals. But, alas! these cases were few.
The bodies were brought to us in a seemingly endless stream. As body
after body was pronounced lifeless and laid aside, the piles of dead
upon the tables grew higher and higher, grew until, as I have said,
they could only be compared to piles of cord wood.
And what a difference in those bodies! Some were so seared, so
blistered and blackened from the fire and smoke, that in the handling
of them the skin, and even the flesh, came off in one’s hands in
great shreds and rolls. A far greater number were so free from mar or
discoloration, and their faces were so calm and peaceful that it was
hard to believe them dead. Indeed, it was difficult to believe even
that animation was suspended. They apparently had just fallen asleep.
And these last were to me the most awful sight of all. The
others--well, they were better dead than living disfigured and maimed,
and besides, there had at no time been hope for them. But these, ah,
these! If only they had not lain so long. A little stimulant for the
heart, a few compressions and relaxations of the chest, and the life
giving oxygen would have entered their lungs and blood. They would have
been saved.
What pathetic incidents there were in that restaurant.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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