Chapter Thirty-Five
‘J ohn Beattie, thank you from the depths of my heart,’ Anna whispered as the wagon pulled away, taking Captain Tyler and the stretcher-bearing Hartford sailors back to the harbour, their ship, the sea, the war.
She stood in the doorway of the sitting room, watching her patients, who seemed to be sleeping. I am no nurse , she thought. John, did you really tell Dan Tyler that I have a cord of steel for a backbone? I wish I did.
What did wounded men need? Water, she told herself, and went to that Holy of Holies, Madame Durand’s kitchen, where, to her astonishment, she heard the Durands in a heated argument.
Maybe French just sounded more heated than English?
Come to think of it, she had heard scarcely two words from Hector, and here he was, obviously holding his own.
This shouting match carrying on behind a closed door reminded her how little she knew about the Durands, beyond Madame’s questions, and the usually silent Hector.
She waited. When silence ruled again, she knocked on the door and opened it with a smile. Might as well brazen it out.
‘Madame Durand, could you please help me locate three carafes? I need water and a glass for each man. Heaven knows I get cranky when I am thirsty, so I can only imagine how they must feel.’
They both looked at her with frowns. As her insides churned, she gave them a calm face in return. Madame Durand yielded, with Hector pasting his usual morose expression back on his face.
‘I will help you, Madame Beattie,’ the housekeeper said, sounding less than eager. She added her own demand. ‘I am no nurse. These men are your task.’
‘I will manage them,’ Anna said quietly.
‘I would like you to make a cream soup, something to soothe patients used to much coarser fare. Consommé as well. The carafes, please.’ She waited, knowing how easy to please she usually was, but hoping the caretakers heard in her tone that she also expected obedience.
‘Very well,’ Madame Durand said after a wait that Anna thought bordered on insolence.
‘You are all kindness,’ Anna replied coolly. ‘I will take these glasses and you will bring carafes.’ She left the kitchen, closing the door and waiting a moment to hear if the argument resumed. It did, but lower in volume.
I am in charge , she thought as she walked back to the sitting room. Every nerve in her body wanted her to throw open the front door and run and swim until she found the Swallow , but that was unwise and she knew it.
She watched three sleeping men. As she stood there, the Marine opened his eyes and winked at her. She came closer to him, wanting to feel brave. He seemed to know, and whispered, ‘Mrs Beattie, I will always be here between you and that door.’
She touched his shoulder, supremely grateful. He had given her the gift she needed: courage.
She looked at the foretopman, who snored, then sat beside Captain Tyler’s brother-in-law. His breathing was shallow and his eyes half closed, as if he hadn’t the strength to command his eyelids. Poor man , she thought, then murmured, ‘Joel, I will stay by you.’
Madame Durand came in soon with water, which she set by each cot.
She stood longest by Joel, shaking her head and saying, ‘A hopeless case.’ She must have spoken too loudly, because Joel flinched.
Whether he heard her meanness, or just the loud sound, Anne could not tell, but she stroked his arm and he seemed to relax.
‘Patience, I was hoping you would come.’
God in heaven, give me courage .
‘Certainly, I did,’ she said softly.
‘You always do,’ he replied sleepily.
‘Just rest, my dear,’ she said. ‘Would you like some water?’
She put her arm behind his head and raised him slightly. He sipped, but most of the water ran out the sides of his mouth.
‘So good,’ he told her as she blotted his face. ‘Patience, you’re a wonder.’
He slept then, to her relief. Madame Durand was long gone, and Anna knew the Marine was watchful. I can do this , she told herself.
Later, she heard the front door open and knew the children were home from the parish school. Hector must have warned them, because they came into the sitting room quietly, hesitantly, looking for her. She beckoned them closer.
‘Papa and Captain Tyler want us to tend these men,’ she said. ‘Madame has luncheon for you. When you finish, come back to me.’
Allan nodded. Anna sighed to see his eyes so apprehensive, much like the first time she’d seen him.
Pru must have noticed. She put her hand on his shoulder. ‘I’ll take care of you,’ she told him. ‘Missy is busy, but she is here and she will never leave us.’
He nodded and hurried from the sitting room, that pleasant place where they had spent recent evenings reading and playing jackstraws and cat’s cradle, while Anna mended and darned.
Pru took her time. ‘What is his name?’ she whispered, knowing far better than Madame Durand about keeping a quiet voice around the wounded.
‘Joel Watt,’ she whispered back. ‘Pru, he thinks I am his wife, Patience. He has two daughters, Grace and Charity.’
Pru did something she had never done before; she kissed her cheek. ‘When you are tired, Mama, I can sit here and be Grace.’ She kissed her again. ‘Or Charity, but now I am hungry. I’ll be back.’
You called me Mama again. Anna closed her eyes in gratitude, touched to her soul at the resilience of the child. She felt gratitude for even this terrible war, which had brought her a husband she knew she adored now, and a son and daughter she’d never thought to have.
‘I can manage anything,’ she whispered, her lips barely moving. ‘I will never be alone.’ She looked down at the gravely wounded man whose hand she held. ‘You will not be alone either, Joel Watt. Your family is here from America.’
For two long days and nights, Anna kept her vigil beside the dying man.
She wiped his face and read to him from Psalms , because one midnight during his agony he gasped, ‘…my shepherd I shall not want,’ and she knew exactly what to say.
There were moments when she wished him dead, not for her relief, but to liberate him from one more second of pain she could not subdue.
Joel rallied again and again, speaking to her in a nearly normal voice about good times he remembered, and reminding Patience, sitting beside him now, of their courting days.
When Pru joined her after parish school, he called her Grace.
Pru read to him so Anna could curl up on the floor beside the cot for a moment of sleep, and even weep because the real Patience wasn’t there to hear her husband’s declarations of love in a voice growing ever fainter.
Lying there but watchful, Billy Whitlow, Hartford ’s injured foretopman, requested a length of rope for Allan to learn his knots.
They all listened to stories from a wistful man who missed a rocky place called Maine, where winters were long and cold, and many boys went to sea because they heard of warm tropic lands with mermaids, if you knew where to look.
In his own way, the Royal Marine watched over them, reminding Anna to eat when Madame Durand, subdued now and nearly as silent as her husband, brought cream soups and puddings for them.
Pru even worked up the courage to ask Private Bartleby if he wanted her to change his dressing. ‘Your bandage looks so bloody,’ she said. ‘If Mama teaches me, I could make it better.’ He kindly assured her that it wasn’t so bad.
When Allan and Pru went to their own beds, Private Bartleby assured Anna that his arm was perfectly fine, the bandage ‘borrowed’ from a sailor who didn’t need it any more. ‘Never think for a moment, dear lady, that I cannot protect you all.’
On the fourth day, even the Royal Marine couldn’t protect Joel Watt, first mate on the Hartford , husband of Patience Watt, father to two fine daughters. Death came calling. It came gently, though, almost apologetically.
Joel had been silent all morning, after a long, long night of speaking to Patience, even urging her to remarry if she found another good man.
‘Just remember, dear lass, that I will be waiting for you in a far better place than this one.’ He pressed Anna’s hand with surprising force.
‘Never doubt that,’ he said quite distinctly. ‘You are my dearly beloved.’
He said no more. Weary beyond belief, Anna rested her head on Joel’s chest.
To her everlasting gratitude, the Marine knelt beside her and put Joel’s hand on her head. ‘There now,’ he said. ‘It will only be a moment. I’ve seen this before.’
Joel’s slow breathing stopped, then started again. There was one last breath that when released like a long sigh took the Hartford ’s first mate with it. Done. Peace.
Private Bartleby moved Joel’s hand onto his chest and folded his other hand on it. He sat beside the cot and pulled a weeping Anna onto his lap. ‘I’ve never seen such kindness as you have shown, you and Pru.’
‘I didn’t even know him,’ she said into his chest.
‘He never knew that. You were his Patience,’ he assured her. ‘I’m too worldly-wise to be amazed at women, but by God, I am.’
She sat up to see the foretopman watching them. Even in her mental and physical exhaustion, she saw nothing in his expression but determination.
He spoke to the Royal Marine. ‘You and I are from different nations but we are not so different. Let’s finish this fight with La Guerre .’
‘That will depend on the next move Captain Beattie makes,’ Private Bartleby said. ‘It will be bold and right.’
And dangerous , Anna thought. Please, God, I love him . She thought of Cathy’s note, left behind and probably missed, and her lovely portrait on the Swallow. What about you, John Beattie? Do you love me? Can you?