Chapter 31
Smoke filled the air and I almost choked on it before waking. I sat up slowly and found Mr. Ashby and Patrice sleeping beside me. I touched their shoulders to wake them. It was dark, though we could see the sun through the smoke, its yellow light only barely shining through.
“We need to get everyone out of this smoke,” Mr. Ward called to us. “It will make them ill.”
It took time, but we all moved to the big house.
Thankfully, the fire had not reached the main part of the house.
Only a section of the porch was missing.
Someone must have stopped the flames before they were out of control.
Patrice helped me sit inside, while Mr. Ashby aided a man with a bandaged head.
They both went back outside and continually brought people in one at a time as Mr. Ward surveyed the people he’d helped during the battle.
Most of them were awake and able to move around.
Some of them, however, seemed near death.
“Let’s get ye to yer room,” Patrice said to me.
I placed a hand on hers, then got Mr. Ward’s attention. “Shouldn’t we bring the badly wounded to beds instead? I will be all right on the floor.”
He shook his head. “We have plenty of other beds, and we’ll bring in cots from the mission. No need to sacrifice yours.” He motioned to Mr. Ashby and Patrice to take me upstairs before moving on.
“Come on,” Mr. Ashby said as he pulled me to my feet.
I admitted to myself that it would be nice to stay put for a while.
We made it upstairs, slowly but surely. My room seemed mostly untouched; only the table and chairs had been broken.
The pirates had left their mark on every room.
But my bed was just as it had been. I lay down and sank into its softness.
“Will you find Graham?” I asked Patrice. She nodded. “That is, after you help the other wounded.”
“Will ye be all right by yourself, Miss?”
“I’ll be fine; I’ll just sleep. Go.” I shooed her out the door. I looked at Mr. Ashby, who watched me wearily. “You, too. They need help.”
He finally agreed, though hesitantly. I sighed with relief. I didn’t want to be the reason he wasn’t helping those in need.
“I’ll be back soon,” he said. I waved a hand to show him I was fine.
As soon as they left, I clutched my wound and groaned.
My pain had increased after moving around so much, and it took effort to hide it.
But the pain was expected, considering I’d been shot.
They couldn’t do anything sitting beside me, anyway.
Exhaustion poured through me, and I felt completely drained.
As soon as I closed my eyes, I fell into a fitful sleep.
I couldn’t seem to wake completely. I felt as if I were drowning in an unknown sea.
I barely remembered anything except for hands touching mine and cold compresses on my head.
My wound kept pulsing and aching, and I felt nauseated.
At times I felt freezing, then blisteringly hot.
And at some point, when I was more awake, Mr. Ward came in and announced, “She has a fever.”
That explains why I feel so dreadful. I couldn’t speak.
I heard him explain how to lower my fever and stop the sepsis, but could not concentrate on it.
As people took care of me, I noticed when it was dark or light outside, and it occurred to me vaguely that days must be passing.
When I awoke, I saw Patrice’s red hair on the bed next to me. She was asleep.
The sun was streaming through the window, and I wondered how she could sleep in broad daylight like this. I shielded my eyes. My movement woke her and she sat up, then stood at seeing me awake.
“Yer alive!” she announced.
“I am?” I said groggily.
“Yer fever had ye out for nearly a week.”
“That’s a long time.” My voice didn’t sound like me. I cleared my throat.
She fiddled with my covers, my pillow, touched my forehead, and finally smiled at me. “I think yer through the worst of it.”
“I should hope so.” I couldn’t stop replying with sarcasm. Perhaps my brain had been affected by the fever.
She scoffed. “Yer just fine now, aren’t ye?”
I smiled, then felt how dry my lips were. And my mouth. “Water,” I whispered.
A cup touched my lips and I drank slowly. Once I’d had enough, I leaned back. “Thank you,” I said.
“I’ll get Mr. Ashby.”
Patrice returned, but merely smiled at me as she led Mr. Ashby to the room, then left.
He came in, his face bright. He didn’t seem rested, just like Patrice.
They should have slept, for goodness’ sake.
I would have said so, but it would not have shown much gratitude.
And I was grateful for their care. I squeezed his hand when he took it.
“How are you feeling?”
“Better.” I took a deep breath. “And you?”
“If you are better, so am I.” Despite the wound, butterflies danced in my stomach. But they didn’t hurt at all. In fact, it seemed like they were healing me instead.
I grinned. “You should be a poet.”
His head tilted. “That didn’t even remotely rhyme.”
“Poems don’t need to rhyme. They just have to convey something meaningful…” I pressed my lips together, realizing what I’d said.
He showed a wisp of a smile. “I’m glad you’re recovering. We were all so worried—Mr. Ward said you might not make it through.” His eyes glistened and he looked down. “I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.”
My heart hammered in my chest. I wanted to reassure him, tell him that he would never lose me.
But someday, we would be separated. Once I married Graham.
After everything, I could not forget my goal.
Even if the man before me held a piece of me I wasn’t sure I’d ever get back.
When he looked at me, I wondered if his thoughts were similar.
I sent him a reassuring smile. It took him a moment to mirror it, but he did.
“Tell me everything that has happened while I’ve been asleep.” If it had been almost a week, so much must have occurred it would probably take hours to review it.
“I don’t want to tire you.”
“I need to know everything.” I furrowed my brows, wondering if he’d forgotten who he was talking to.
He nodded. “Of course you do.”
That was more like it. “First, how is Graham?”
An expression I couldn’t catch passed over his features, but it faded as soon as it came. “He sustained minimal injuries. He has been tirelessly helping rebuild and take care of everything. It is exhausting watching him.”
“Typical. But I’m glad he’s keeping busy.” I waved a hand, indicating I’d like to hear more.
He shifted in his seat and continued. “Graham and Eliza were the ones who stopped the pirates. They carried Captain Cosaire around the estate, shouting that they had killed their captain. The pirates turned tail and ran back to their ship. After that, all the fires were put out. The damage is…substantial. Three sugarcane fields were destroyed, but that doesn’t signify, because the sugar mill itself is beyond repair. ”
“What about the mission?”
“Everyone is safe. Mr. Weiss was injured, but he’s recovering now in his own bed. The children were unharmed. Mrs. Bowers is fine, and those brutes were taken into custody by the Royal Navy.”
“The navy? How—and when—did they get here?”
“We don’t know the whole story, but Whisper said the navy captain was staying with a planter in Cayon, who heard of the Assembly meeting without him.
The navy captain apparently took a stand with the owner and arrested the men.
They will stand trial for their crimes. Attacking a mission is beyond unconscionable. They will be punished.”
“I’m so glad things worked out well for the mission. What about the Maelstrom? Is it…gone?”
Mr. Ashby nodded. “I’m afraid so. Eliza doesn’t seem to be taking it well.
From what Graham told me, she has always felt that the Maelstrom was her home.
Imagine your home being ransacked and burned by pirates.
He said it is taking all of the crew to keep her from seeking revenge.
Mrs. Bowers has been called in to speak with her several times as well. ”
“Poor Eliza.”
“Perhaps she would like to see you. Shall I ask her to come?”
I thought for a moment. “I would like to see her, but she might not want to.”
“It won’t hurt to ask.”
“Very well. Please do.” I readjusted my position. “Anything else?”
“They held the funeral for Captain Whitmore two days ago. I’m sorry you missed it.”
“How was it?”
He shook his head sadly. “It poured rain. Mrs. Bowers spoke, along with Mr. Weiss. Captain Whitmore was a naval hero. After he retired, he met Mrs. Bowers and they shared the same goals. He was tireless in his efforts. A little eccentric, but beloved by all. He is buried in the churchyard.”
“He truly was a remarkable man.” I bowed my head in memory of him. We stayed silent for several moments and then I looked up at Mr. Ashby. He was watching me with a meaningful gaze, and as soon as I blinked it disappeared. “What is it?”
“What do you mean?” He averted his eyes briefly, as if he were guilty of something.
“What are you not telling me?” My eyes narrowed.
“Nothing. I just…missed you. Worrying day and night that you wouldn’t wake up was very difficult for me. For all of us.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“Hm.” I said. “If you have a weight that you’re carrying, let me lighten it. You can tell me anything.”
He nodded, looking at his hands. “I know.” After a moment, he stood. “Well, I should go. I, um, have an assignment from Mrs. Bowers that needs attention. Just ring this bell if you need anything.” He pointed to a ceramic bell on my bedside table.
“I’ll see you later?” I watched him awkwardly back out of the room.
Before he went through the door, he paused. “Of course. I couldn’t stay away for long.” Then he disappeared. Strange. What had come over him so suddenly?