The Far Country (34 page)

Mr. Richardson was rather deaf and unaccustomed to an inquest; he needed a good deal of prompting by the police, but finally he
opened the proceedings by inviting Sergeant Russell to tell the story of the death of Albert Hanson, which the police sergeant did with commendable detachment. The deceased, he said, had been the victim of an accident to a bulldozer in the bush above Lamirra; the manager of the Lamirra Timber Company was present in the court. The foot of the deceased had been amputated on the scene of the accident by a man called Zlinter, who was present. Mr. Zlinter was not registered as a practitioner in Victoria. He was assisted in the operation by a Miss Morton, who was present, and who held no qualifications as a nurse. The man Hanson had died some hours later at the camp at Lamirra, and Dr. Jennings, who was present, had seen the body shortly after death. The deceased was known to the police as an alcoholic. The circumstances leading up to the man’s death appeared to the police to be irregular, but they had not yet made any charge.

On the suggestion of the police sergeant the coroner called Mr. Forrest to give evidence; he took the oath and started in to tell the story, the coroner laboriously writing down his evidence in longhand. Presently he asked:

“So you authorised the man Zlinter to take off the foot of the deceased man, did you?”

“Too right,” said Mr. Forrest, “I couldn’t do anything else. Zlinter said the foot would have to come off anyway, and I could see that for myself.”

“Did you know at the time that he had no medical licence to practice in Australia?”

“I knew that.”

“But you authorised him to do this operation?”

“Aw, look,” the manager said, “what would you have done? We couldn’t get a doctor, ’n we couldn’t leave him there all night. If we’d tried to shift the sticks and bulldozer quick, we’d have dropped one on top of him, like as not. I reckoned I was lucky to have a doctor of any sort there, even if he was a crook one.”

The old man wrote all that down slowly. “I see. And then when you got him to the camp, what happened then?”

The tale went on. “And then some silly bastard went ’n give him a bottle of whisky,” the manager said at last. “He got fighting drunk ’n it was all that we could do to keep him in the bed. My word. And then, after an hour or two of that, the doctor give him something, ’n soon after that he died.”

“When you say the doctor, you mean Mr. Zlinter?”

“That’s right. Mr. Zlinter.”

“Who was in charge of this man when he got the whisky?”

There was an awkward pause. “Well, we was all in charge of him, you might say. I’d got the doctor and the nurse there, ’n I was round about myself most of the night.”

“By the nurse, you mean Miss Morton?”

“That’s right.”

The coroner whispered for a moment with the police sergeant. “That will do, Mr. Forrest. Call Miss …” He peered at a paper before him. “Miss Jennifer Morton.”

Jennifer went to the witness stand and took the oath in a low voice. The coroner said, “Are you a registered nurse?”

She shook her head, and said, “No.”

“Eh, what’s that? What did she say?”

Sergeant Russell said, “She said, no, sir.” To Jennifer, “You’ll have to speak up a bit.”

The old man said, “Were you in charge of the deceased man at the camp, before he died?”

She said, “I—I don’t think so.”

“But you were acting as a nurse?”

“Yes. I was helping Dr. Zlinter.”

The coroner said testily, “Will you please stop talking about Dr. Zlinter. As I understand it, he is not a doctor at all.”

The girl flushed, and said nothing. There was a pause. At last the old man said, “Were you supposed to be looking after this man before he died?”

“I don’t think so, sir. I couldn’t have been. I was helping Mr. Zlinter in the next room with the other operation.”

“That was the head injury?”

“Yes. We must have been in that room for over two hours. It was in that time that he must have got the whisky.”

“And in that time you were not looking after him?”

“No, sir.”

The coroner whispered to Sergeant Russell, who shook his head. “That will do, Miss Morton,” and Jennifer went back to her seat tired with the brief strain. The coroner said, “Call Dr. Jennings.”

The doctor took the oath. “I understand that you examined this man shortly after death.”

“That’s right.”

“What was the cause of death?”

The doctor said, “Operational shock, aggravated by an excessive amount of alcohol. I understand that the man drank a whole bottle of whisky.”

“Yes. You conducted a post-mortem?”

“I did.”

“Did you find whisky in the body?”

“I did. I found a very large amount.”

“In your opinion, if this man had not taken this unfortunate dose of whisky, would he have recovered from the operation?”

The doctor said carefully, “I think he would have recovered. He had an enlarged liver, somewhat diseased; I have preserved a sample of that. That condition is usually due to habitual excessive drinking. Such a man would not be a good subject for an operation of any sort, and so it is a possibility that he might have died after the operation in any case. But the operation was skilfully and
properly performed, and so I should say that he would have had a good chance of recovery—apart from the whisky.”

It took some time to write that down. “The operation was properly done?”

“I examined the amputation at the post-mortem,” the doctor said. “It was properly done, and I should have expected it to be successful.”

“I see.” The old man finished writing, thought for a minute, and then said, “I understand that this man Zlinter did another operation on the same evening. Can you tell us anything about that one—how that is going on?”

Dr. Jennings said, “That was a much more difficult operation than the amputation. It involved the removal of a portion of the skull completely, and the lifting of two other pieces. Normally one would not like to tackle such an operation without full hospital facilities, but in this case it was done by Mr. Zlinter in very difficult and improvised conditions, assisted by Miss Morton. That operation also seems to have been very well done, particularly well in the circumstances. The patient is now conscious, and likely to recover.”

There was a long pause while this was written down. “I see. Am I to take it that these men received satisfactory medical attention, then?”

The doctor thought deeply for a minute. “So far as the operations are concerned,” he said, “I think they were well done. The aftercare was not so satisfactory. It was probably impossible to remove the head injury to hospital until the ambulance became available. It would have been possible, perhaps, to take this man Hanson into hospital, and he wouldn’t have got the whisky there. But that is being wise after the event, and I don’t think one should blame Mr. Zlinter for his decision to keep both men at the camp till I arrived with the ambulance.”

The coroner whispered again to Sergeant Russell. Then he said, “Have you ever know the man Zlinter to do an operation before?”

“No sir. I have known him to do dressings and first aid for minor injuries, which have sometimes come to me for treatment later on, at the hospital.”

“And you have been quite happy that he should do that sort of work up at Lamirra?”

“Yes, sir. I understand that he is qualified as a medical practitioner in his own country, but not in Australia. He is quite competent to do that sort of first-aid work.”

“Do you consider him competent to do the sort of operations that he did on this occasion, Dr. Jennings?”

The doctor said carefully, “As a general rule, sir, I should not regard him as competent to operate until he had complied with the regulations of the Medical Registration Board, which means that he should have to do a further period in a medical school here. In this
particular emergency both these men would probably have died but for his care. That was the alternative. The operations that he performed should have saved both lives, but unfortunately one man has died through his own intemperance.” He paused. “I should like to make it clear that I have quite a high opinion of Mr. Zlinter’s capabilities as a surgeon.”

The old man blinked at him. “You have a high opinion of him?”

“Certainly, sir. If he were properly qualified in this country I should be glad to have him as a partner.”

A further bout of whispering with the police sergeant.

“That will do, Doctor, thank you. Call Mr. Zlinter.”

Carl Zlinter stepped to the witness stand and took the oath.

“What is your nationality, Mr. Zlinter?”

“I am a Czechoslovakian, sir.”

“And have you any medical qualifications?”

“I am a licentiate of the University of Pilsen and a Doctor of Medicine, sir.” He pulled some papers from the breast pocket of his coat. “I have here my diploma.”

He passed it to the police sergeant and the coroner, who looked at it with interest, unable to read one single word. “Very good.”

The coroner leaned back in his chair. “You have heard all the evidence, Mr. Zlinter,” he said. “I think we have heard enough evidence now to determine the cause of this man’s death, and I do not propose to ask you any questions. I have called you because I have some things to say to you.”

He paused, and went on slowly and deliberately, “You have heard the evidence, and from the evidence it is fairly clear that in an emergency you performed two operations competently and well, one of which was a very serious and delicate operation. I have to thank you on behalf of the community, and at the same time I have to give you a warning. You are not licensed as a doctor in this State or in Australia at all, and if you should do any further operations, and if they should turn out badly, you would be open to a charge of manslaughter, because in this country you are not a doctor. I do not want to seem ungrateful to you, but that is the law. Before doing any further operations you must get yourself qualified, or you may find yourself in trouble. Do you understand that?”

Carl Zlinter said, “Yes, sir. I have always understood that ver’ well.”

“Well, you’d better get yourself qualified as soon as you are able to. Thank you, Mr. Zlinter; you can stand down now.”

Carl Zlinter went back to his seat, and the coroner whispered again with the police sergeant. At last he raised his head, shuffled his papers, and said,

“This inquest has been called to ascertain the cause of the death of Albert Hanson. The evidence that we have heard shows that the man died of operational shock following upon an accident with a bulldozer, and that the operational shock was aggravated and
intensified by a great quantity of alcohol which the man got hold of in some way that cannot be ascertained, and drank. I do not think the fact that the operation was performed by an unregistered surgeon had any particular bearing on the cause of death, but the fact that whisky was supplied to him after the operation was certainly a factor in his death. For this the management of the Lamirra Timber Company were responsible. I cannot close this inquest without expressing my opinion that some negligence occurred on the part of Mr. Forrest in the after-care of these men. It appears that no organisation for the treatment of serious injuries exists at Lamirra. I think that there should be such an organisation, a small hospital or dressing station where such injuries can be properly treated and isolated. If that had existed, the life of this man might have been saved. I find a verdict of accidental death, with a strong recommendation that the company should consider what I have said. I shall not be so lenient with them if this should happen again.”

He shuffled his papers together, rose from his seat and went out of the court; the people on the public benches began to stream out of the door. Jack Dorman unostentatiously got out early, and fell into step with Dr. Jennings as he walked towards his car.

“All went off very well, Doctor,” he said.

The doctor nodded. “I was sorry Jim Forrest got a rap, but I suppose somebody had to have it. I think there
was
some carelessness. Jim must have known the man was a boozer, and he might have thought some of his mates would try to slip him something.”

“Aye,” said the grazier, “but I don’t suppose Jim’ll lose much sleep.”

“He should put up a dressing station of some sort.”

“Maybe he’ll do that.” He hesitated. “It was good of you to say what you did about Splinter,” he said. “It could have gone crook for him.”

The doctor nodded. “I know. He did a good job, as good as anybody could have done in the conditions. I thought it was only fair to make that clear.”

“When you said you’d be glad to have him as a partner,” Jack Dorman remarked, “I suppose that was just a manner of speaking, for the police and old Bert Richardson?”

The doctor stopped and glanced at him. “I don’t know that I meant it to be taken very seriously,” he said. “We could do with two more doctors in this district, but we’re not likely to get them so long as any young chap just qualified can put his plate up in a suburb of the city and make a go of it. If Zlinter was qualified I wouldn’t mind having him; he’s probably quite a good doctor. However, he’s not qualified, so there’s an end of it.”

“He might be one day,” the grazier said.

“Are you thinking of financing him?”

Jack Dorman laughed. “Not on your life. I was just wondering
how you’d feel about it if he ever turned up in this district as a proper doctor.”

“I wouldn’t mind a bit,” the doctor said. “He certainly did those two operations very skilfully.”

Outside the court-house Jane Dorman stopped Carl Zlinter as he was about to get into the utility with Mr. Forrest. “Carl,” she said, “what’s the best way to get hold of this man Shulkin? What would be the best time to go and talk to him about pictures?”

“I think the week-end,” Zlinter said. “In the week he will be working always, on the railway somewhere.”

Jim Forrest said, “He won’t be working today, Mrs. Dorman.”

She turned to him. “Why not?”

“The railwaymen are on strike.”

“Are they? What’s it for this time?”