The Night of the Monstrous Storm

by Andamogirl

James West and Artemus Gordon are banished on a small island with a lighthouse away from the population of Mobile after Artie is diagnosed with the yellow fever and on top of this a monstrous hurricane is on its way to the Gulf of Mexico threatening to destroy everything and, of course, the island is on its destructive path.

4. Act Three

THE NIGHT OF THE MONSTROUS STORM

By Andamogirl

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ACT THREE

The lighthouse

Past midnight

Day 5

Both Jim and Artemus moved back as they heard a loud strange hissing noise invade the lighthouse – and a few seconds later the door exploded.

Seconds later, a huge blast of intense heat hurtled into the room and the two men were knocked off their feet by the force of the impact. They were slammed against the curved back wall and they collapsed in a heap, seeing stars everywhere and ears ringing.

Flames invaded the room for a few seconds, passing just over their heads, then disappeared setting the Spartan furniture on fire.

Groaning, Jim was the first to stand and pulled Artie upright to his feet and heard the older man letting out a sharp hiss of pain.

Everything was burning around them.

Gritting his teeth as he was standing on his not-broken leg, Artie rasped, "There was an explosion. I think that the lightning hit the top of the lighthouse, and that it exploded, and the fire spread very quickly because Loveless has stored chemical products for his research in the other rooms as well as the combustible material for the alcohol burners…"

They headed toward the opening where the door was and moved back as a cascade of flames and waves of scorching heat engulfed the spiral staircase and the small landings.

It was a dead end, literally.

Retreating back, Jim and Artie hopping on his good leg glanced at the small window built in the thick stone wall of the lighthouse. It was too small for a man to go through to get out.

"We're going to burn alive in here," Artie said looking at Jim with eyes full of anguish.

But within seconds Jim remembered that he was still holding Artie's explosive, fuses and matches. "We're not going to die here, Artie," he said. Then he placed three pieces of explosives around the window, with a fuse in each, ready to light them.

Moving back, Artemus said, "That's a good idea, Jim, but we'll end up dead, jumping from here, our bodies smashed on the rocks below."

Glancing through the window, Jim could see the layers of foam splashing rocks dozens of yards lower, at the foot of the steep cliff where the waves were crashing. "This room is facing the highest point of the island… There's no ground, just the ocean and further, rocks."

Warily eying the big flames gaining ground in the room, Artie heaved a faux sigh of relief, "Oh, I feel soo much better. We're going to end up crushed against the rocks."

Striking a match against the wall, Jim replied, "Be positive, Artie. We've survived worst situations and we'll survive this one too. I can list ten of them all dating only from last few months." Then he lit the fuses, one by one and moved back to join Artemus standing on one leg next to the burning cot.

He helped Artemus to lie down on the floor and they watched the fuses burn slowly, then when they were almost consumed, they protected their heads with their folded arms and waited… A couple of seconds later, there was a big explosion.

Debris flew everywhere provoking scrapes and future bruises. Balls of fire and clouds of dark, acrid, smoke and dust invaded the room mixing with those coming from the stairs.

Both Jim and Artie, coughing, eyes burning, tears wetting their soot and dust-blackened faces… blindly jumped in the air, into the void.

Carried away by the powerful winds of the hurricane, they 'flew' away from rocks and cliffs and dropped like stones in the midst of wild waves.

But hitting the swirling waters at this height was like hitting a wall and Artemus's broken leg was busted a second time. His vision exploded into white as he let out a choked, agonized cry. This time the upper part of the shattered bone pierced the flesh and skin.

Overwhelmed by the agonizing pain that shot through his wounded leg, he passed out and was swallowed by a monstrous wall of water.

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Holding Miguelito Loveless against him, and protecting him with his coat from the flames and smoke, Voltaire left the basement of the lighthouse.

Once outside, he moved away from the tower that had been transformed into a gigantic torch smoke billowing outwards the dark sky lit by thunderbolts and headed toward the ruined house.

Sheltered by a still intact part of the roof from the pouring rain, he lowered the Doctor to the ground covered with rubble and said, "We're safe."

But the diminutive man ignored his servant and bodyguard's remark, fists tightened, he watched the burning lighthouse.

He was absolutely furious. "My lab is gone and my toxin and antidote with it! I lost all my research notes. I lost everything!"

Nodding the black-clad giant said, "And the agents too."

Loveless's face was lit by a broad smile. "Yes, you're right Voltaire. James West and Artemus Gordon are now two piles of ashes. Good riddance! Although I'd have loved to kill them myself. But they're gone, and that's what is important."

He huddled in Voltaire's big wet coat and added, "We'll take the lighthouse keeper's boat and leave when the hurricane is over. In the meantime, we're going to have to stay here."

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Not paying attention to the lighthouse now engulfed in flames fanned by the strong winds and not caring about Loveless's and Voltaire's fate, Jim plunged underwater to help Artie. Thankfully he was helped in his search by the gigantic fire, illuminating the ocean for miles around.

He surfaced shortly after, holding his unconscious best friend against him, tightly. Violently pushed by the furious waters toward the shore, they miraculously avoided the rocks bordering the cliff and ended up on a small beach covered with foam and algae.

Grabbing Artie's wrists, Jim pulled the other man onto the coarse sand and laid Artie's body, lifeless, cold and limp, down on the ground,. Then kneeling beside his drowned partner, he opened Artemus's mouth, tilted his head back, pinched his nose shut and placed his lips to those of the unconscious man. He started breathing for him, blowing air into him, anxiously watching for the rise of Artie's chest as his lungs expanded.

But there was no movement.

He repeated the motion a few times, drawing as much air into his own lungs as he could – but Artie wasn't breathing on his own, still. He remained motionless, his face slack and livid and his lips blue. "No, no, no!" he said through chattering teeth. "Don't do this to me! Don't die on me Artie! I can't do this alone, I need you." He pinched the other man's nose breathed into his mouth again. "Come on!"

He placed one hand over the other above his partner's sternum, interlocking his fingers, before beginning chest compressions, hard. He heard a crack but continued.

One, two, three.

Jim leaned back down, squashing Artie's nose shut before giving him another breath of air.

He lost track of how many times he pumped his hands against Artie' ribcage and the number of breaths he gave him, but didn't stop.

He couldn't stop. He couldn't lose the man he loved like his own brother.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity Artemus jerked and shuddered. He coughed his way to life, thrashing, his chest rising and falling with each painful, ragged breath, spluttering and vomiting water.

Jim rolled him on his right side and slapped Artie's back hard as more water rushed out of his mouth. "Yes, that's it buddy! Breathe, breathe, you're safe now."

His chest heaving, pain radiating in his ribs, Artie opened his eyes, glazed and red and puffy and he mumbled, his throat burning, "Wha' happn'd?" He slurred blinking in confusion.

Grinning Jim leaned over his partner. He'd brought Artie back. He was alive! "You drowned that's what happened, and I performed the Cardiopulmonary resuscitation technique, you taught me, on you, and I brought you back, buddy." He cringed and added. "And I think may have cracked one of your ribs performing chest compressions. I'm really sorry." Glancing at Artie's left leg; he grimaced at the sight of the bone sticking out from the bleeding wound amid the burst stitches. "Don't move!"

But Artie, a bit dazed, propped himself up on his elbows and shifted. Immediately a sharp stab of pain in his injured leg made him scream.

Eyes filled with tears, he fell on his back, gritting his teeth.

Pressing Artie's hand in his, Jim said, "I told you not to move. Your leg is in a worse state. A piece of the bone is sticking out, and the wound is bleeding again."

His eyes sunken and tired, his teeth chattering, Artemus let out, "Okay. Not m'ving. Thank you Jim, y' s'ved my life." He slurred and he went limp afterward, passed out, his head lolling to the side.

Pulling Artemus in his arms so they could keep each other warm, Jim said, "Everything's going to be okay," and looked up to watch the lighthouse burn, smoke billowing up into the air.

Exhausted, he realized that the ringing in his ears had started to fade and his eyelids felt suddenly heavy, the adrenaline rush fading.

He drifted off to sleep a couple of seconds later.

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Much later, in the afternoon

Feeling sunlight touch his dirty and stubbled face, Jim opened his eyes, slowly and was very surprised to see big blue and gray clouds sharing the sky overhead.

He used his left arm to push himself upright as the right one was wrapped around Artemus's waist, the other man being slumped against him.

He heaved a long sigh of relief. The hurricane was gone. "Artie? Wake up! It's over." But his partner remained motionless.

He gently maneuvered the older man to one side, on the warming sand minding his broken leg and pressed two fingers to Artie's pulse point.

He was unconscious, and breathing, but his face was an unhealthy gray.

Jim noticed that his partner had a big bruise and a swelling where Jim cracked a rib during CPR.

His stomach turned and nearly gagged when he spotted the state Artemus's leg was in. It was twice its normal size; the wound was angry red with spider-web-like blueish lines heading away from it, unmistakable signs of infection. The bone was jutting out just under the knee and it was coated in dried blood – blood which had pooled on the sand. "I have to get you to a doctor as soon as possible… " He glanced around him locating pieces of wood and bundles of long dried algae and added, "I need to make a travois to carry you to the boat, the coast is not so far…"

He had just said that, when a boat with a white hull and a red sail – he instantly recognized as the lighthouse keeper's boat appeared between two big black rocks, moving away from the island pushed by strong winds blowing the sail.

He cursed between his teeth and rubbed an anxious hand over his head in his tousled hair. Loveless and Voltaire had preceded them. They had taken the boat! There was only one way to leave the island now: the boat coming from Mobile to pick them up.

In two days!

Looking down at Artemus he knew that his best friend wouldn't last those two days, weakened by blood loss and with his broken leg. Open fractures posed an immediate risk of infection. He would have a sceptic shock in a few hours and then he would die.

Moaning, Artemus came to slowly, his breathing was ragged and a split second later he cried out as the pain radiated up his left leg in white, hot, agony. "Hurts," he mumbled. Through blurred vision he saw Jim kneel at his side. "Hey…"

Placing his hand on Artie's shoulder in a comforting gesture, Jim said softly, "Hey yourself!"

Frowning in concern, Artie asked, "You okay? Y're covered with scrapes and bruises…"

Waving his hand in a dismissive gesture Jim said. "That's nothing." Then he smiled. But it was a sad smile. "You're going to be okay, Artemus."

Shaking his head weakly, Artie rasped, "Still the optimistic one, I see. Let me be the realistic one, again. I'm not going to make it, Jim." He touched his face and neck which were glistening with sweat. "Fever's back…" Pulling himself upright on one knee, he glanced at his battered leg and compound fracture. "Not going to last long… will go into sceptic shock soon. I witnessed that during the war… lots of wounded men died in a matter of hours from severe infection running in the bloodstream, leading to respiratory or heart failure, stroke, failure of other organs, and death." He lowered himself and let out a long resigned sigh. "I'm gonna die and you'll have to keep my body wrapped in sheets and blankets until my body is transported to the mainland and placed in a coffin. Then you will take me back to Washington." He smiled. "I have a few hours in front of me in which to teach you how to sail a boat… no practical exercise, just theory."

Cringing, Jim said, "Loveless and Voltaire took it to leave the island. The only way to leave this island now is to embark in the boat from Mobile."

Frowning, Artie nodded. "I hate them!" He sighed and added, "If of course the boat from Mobile comes here. The hurricane could have destroyed it, like all the other boats… Mobile could have been destroyed by the hurricane too. We don't know anything. In this case you will need to bury me the time someone comes. People in Mobile know that we're on that island… Unless they were killed by the hurricane. In this case, you will have to live on the island until a ship comes into view. A fire should get the captain's attention. But you musn't wait long. There are a lot of ships in the Gulf of Mexico…"

Frowning Jim said, "You're not going to die, Artie. You're strong enough to hold on for two days… and I'm sure that the boat from Mobile is going to come to pick us."

Blinking tiredly, Artie said, "I'll be dead in a few hours, Jim." And then he suddenly hissed and cried out when a flash of searing pain shot through his injured leg. "Oh God!"

Shaking his head, Jim affirmed, "You're not going to die. You're the strongest man I know. You can survive anything!"

Feeling dizzy, his vision blurring in and out, he croaked, "I don't have much time left…" He let out a burp. "Oh god! Gonna be sick." he announced before leaning to the side and retching. When he was done, he slumped on his back and wiped his mouth with the back of his trembling hand. "I'm not… immortal Jim. I'm just a man, and I'm dying…" Then a shuddering cough raked through his fever-induced shivering body and he closed his eyes, succumbing to sleep.

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Much later

His eyes fluttering open, Artie realized first that he wasn't dead – yet – and noticed that he was back in what was left of the lighthouse keeper's bedroom. He could see an intact part of the roof above him and further the darkening sky and shining stars.

Good news: the hurricane had passed over them.

He was lying on the floor, in a nest of blankets with a pillow under his head. Jim was sitting cross-legged beside him, holding a tin box. There was a small fire behind him.

He smiled. "A little small for a coffin… y' know. But my ashes will fit in it, that's for sure. But I don't want to be cremated." And he watched Jim furrow his brow upset, no furious.

Opening the box, Jim pulled out a cookie. "Don't ever talk about dying again." He growled and brought the cookie to his partner's lips. "You need to eat to gain strength."

But Artie pushed Jim's hand back, gently. "'M dying, not hungry, keep the food for you. A ship could come tomorrow or the day after or later and rescue you and you need to survive for that long. Plus there's no need to feed a dying man."

Paling, a lump in his throat, Jim said, "Don't say that! You're going to live!"

Moving his left hand toward Jim's knee, placing it there, Artemus said, "You know I'm right, Jim. I'm sure you'll survive. I won't and you know this too." Then he started shivering.

Feeling his heart sink slowly, Jim lowered his head as tears pricked the corners of his eyes. He dropped the cookie into the tin box. He sniffled then mopped his wet face with his forearm. "I'm so sorry Artie… if only I could help you…" And he swallowed harshly.

Pressing Jim's knee with trembling fingers, the older man nodded and, his teeth chattering he said, "Y-you c-can. Stay w-with m-me, I-I don't want t-to die alone."

Barely keeping new tears at bay Jim nodded. "I won't leave you, Artie. I promise." Then he turned around, grabbed a fistful of twigs and threw them into the fire, starting mini fireworks of sparks. Looking down at his best friend again he asked, "Are you cold?"

Blinking tiredly, Artemus replied, "Y-yes, I'm c-c-cold. Hyp-hypo-hypothermia. It's one of the s-signs of-of severe sepsis." He was panting now. "And… breathing problems…" And he gasped to regain his breath. "I'm going… to die of… of asphyxiation before I die of sepsis…"

Jim placed a blanket on top of Artie's body, but avoided the badly wounded leg with the bone poking out. Blood was oozing again from the wound, he noticed.

Artie smiled weakly, "Thanks."

Placing his palm on Artemus's forehead Jim found the skin damp but cold there. He dropped large pieces of wood that came from the furniture destroyed in the fire.

Blinking slowly, dazedly, Artie rasped, "Dad?... Dad, I feel sick. Help me…" Then his father's face morphed back into Jim's. He frowned recognizing his partner. "Jim? It's y-you? Thought it was my d-dad."

Pressing a damp cloth to Artie's face, Jim added confusion to the list of symptoms. "It's me Artie, I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere."

Closing his eyes, Artemus slurred, "Tell my m-mom… tell her I-I love her…" Big tears rolled on his ashen and gaunt face while he was whimpering in pain.

Imagining Helena Gordon's reaction to the news that her only son was dead, Jim's face crumpled and tears started streaming down his face. "I will."

His eyes foggy and tired, his face now so very pale, Artie added, his voice faint, "Tell the General I'm sorry I c-couldn't w-win t-that f-fight… Met his aide-de-camp, man called James West… nice guy… He shot me y' know, need to sleep dad..." Then he lost consciousness.

Gazing at his dying best friend, Jim started to sob. He pressed his face against Artemus's hair. 'Please don't leave me. Please don't leave me. You're… you're all I have."

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Later, late afternoon

For the ninth time since Artemus had slipped into loss of consciousness, Jim pressed two fingers against his partner's throat. His skin was cold and he was shivering.

His pulse was still there, but slow and erratic. His breath was coming out short and ragged and even had shallowed and stopped for a few seconds, twice. He had performed Cardiopulmonary resuscitation technique each time and brought him back.

He knew that his best friend could die anytime from respiratory or heart failure, from a stroke, or some other medical complication – and he felt totally helpless and heartbroken and terrified.

He placed his hand on the side of Artie's pale face and said, "I can't resign myself to the idea of you dying… I can't. It's impossible." He dropped his hand, crying softly into it. "You can't die."

He abruptly stopped crying a few seconds later when he suddenly heard a bell ring in the distance. "What?" Stunned, he blinked twice. "A bell?" He let out.

He stood up and sprinted out of the ruined house… and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw an ironclad frigate anchored off the island. "It's a ship!" he croaked out in disbelief. Then he spotted a boat leaving the Navy ship with sailors on board.

He beamed, disbelief replaced by immense joy, no complete exhilaration. They were coming here. They were saved! He thought.

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Later, on board the USS Tennessee

Once on board, the Captain of the frigate approached Jim and asked, "We came as soon as we spotted the burning lighthouse. I'm Captain Harris of the USS Tennessee, what happened?"

But, totally focused on Artie lying on a stretcher, motionless, still unconscious, Jim didn't hear the question. "My partner needs medical help," he just said.

Harris nodded and gestured to the officer standing at his side. "Dr. Forbes is going to take care of him. He's the best surgeon in the Navy."

Black points suddenly invaded Jim's vision which tunneled then and he collapsed to the deck, passed out with exhaustion.

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Late, in sickbay

Lieutenant-Commander Gerald Forbes, the ship's medical officer, offered a cup of coffee to Jim sitting on one of the chairs in the waiting room of the sickbay, "Your partner needs surgery to save his life," he said. "I'm talking about his badly injured leg."

Pale as a ghost, Jim nodded. "Will you have to amputate?" he asked the other man while taking the steaming cup in a trembling hand, horrified at the thought.

Forbes shook his head. "No, there's no need. Once the bone is back in its original place, the wound cleaned and the infected tissue and abscesses removed, I will get the infection under control thanks to a drug of my invention I use in the treatment and prevention of severe infections. His condition should improve, but it will take a little while for everything to go back to normal. I mean that he won't be able to walk and even less ride a horse for months."

Lowering his head, immensely relieved, Jim whispered, "Thank you." he suddenly remembered, "Artemus has a cracked rib too."

The medical officer added, "I noticed. It's just cracked, not broken fortunately and still in its place in the rib cage. I must leave to take care of Artemus, now. You should rest. There's a cot for you in the cabin next door. The operation will take quite some time. Don't worry, I'm a seasoned naval surgeon, it's not the first time I treat that kind of injury. I had to work on this kind of injury during the war, and accidents happen on a ship. I'm very good at what I do. He's in good hands."

Leaning against the bulkhead, Jim nodded. "Okay, thank you doctor." He took a sip of coffee and watched Lt. Cdr. Forbes leave the room to enter the sickbay.

Shortly after, the door opened and the Captain entered. "Ah! It's good to see that you're awake." He took his place on a chair beside the younger man and observed him for a few seconds. He was covered with bruises and scrapes, dressed in what was left of pajama pants, had messy hair and thick stubble on his pale face and overall he was filthy. Then he asked, "What happened on that island? Apart from the damage the hurricane did. A lighthouse doesn't usually burn."

Lowering his cup of coffee to his right knee, Jim said, "It's a long story, Sir. Let's start at the beginning, my name is James West, I'm a special agent of the Secret Service…"

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Much later

Biting his lower lip nervously, Jim was still sitting in the waiting room, so worried that he couldn't even think about going to sleep to have some rest, when the door leading to the sickbay opened. Dr. Forbes appeared and he was smiling. "The surgery went well," he announced. "Your partner is out of danger and there was minimal damage to his left leg. He will have a few scars though and it's going to be a long road to recovery. But he won't have any lasting effects."

Running a trembling hand in his disheveled hair, Jim breathed out, "Thank God… and thank you Doctor. You saved his life." He stood. "When can I see him?"

Placing a calming hand on the other man, the medical officer said, "He's still unconscious. You'll see him later, after a good night sleep."

Shaking his head, Jim said, "I want to see him now, and I will sleep at his side, on the floor is necessary. I promised not to leave him and I always keep my promises."

Gerald Forbes nodded. "Alright. I accept that because if it's the only way you'll agree to sleep – and I don't want to pick you up from the floor again."

He opened the door, Jim in tow then headed to the bed where Artemus was lying, sleeping soundly, heavily drugged with laudanum. He was as white as the pajamas he was wearing. He was so pale and immobile that he looked like a corpse.

Seeing Jim's distressed look, the doctor said, "He's alive. Don't worry, the worst is behind him. He's going to be alright. I gave him an injection of that drug of mine to fight the infection in his system. It seems to work as the swelling has already diminished. It should have disappeared within a week. I used a powerful antiseptic to clean the wound and stitched it again. I removed all the infected tissue and abscesses from the wound then cleaned it out. The wound should heal nicely. And I stabilized the bone with an external fixation device, so the shin will heal nicely too."

Curious Jim asked, "How?"

Lieutenant-Commander Forbes lifted the blanket, revealing Artie's left leg and external fixation device and explained, "It was a clean break, so after the pieces of bone were well aligned, I used an invention of mine. The shin has been immobilized by metal pins. These have been inserted into the bone on either side of the fracture. The pins are held in place by an external metal frame. This device provides stability during the healing process and is usually removed after a couple of weeks. This technique allows access to the wound and to the areas of skin that have been pierced by the procedure for a proper cleaning to prevent infection." He paused and placed a reassuring hand on Jim's shoulder. "Your friend was very lucky, the damage to the soft tissues around the bone - including muscles, tendons, nerves, veins, and arteries, was limited and I repaired everything. So there's no need for other surgical procedures. For comfort, a doctor could remove the external fixation after the bone fragments have solidified together and place a cast there instead."

Impressed Jim said, "That's fantastic!" He furrowed his eyebrows in alarm and then swallowed nervously. "Will Artemus have lasting effects? Like a limp?"

Because it meant no field missions for him anymore. Artemus Gordon would end his career behind a desk, away from him.

No, he wouldn't do that, but resign to go back to his first love, the theater, he thought.

Gerald Forbes shook his head. "Nothing. He won't have any lasting effects, and his cracked rib is going to heal on its own. I taped them to increase stability and decrease pain."

Jim breathed an enormous sigh of relief. Artie would stay at his side!

Forbes continued, "The rest is all scratches and bruises, nothing important, but I cleaned them." He glanced at Jim's limbs covered with scratches and bruises too and added, "It's your turn now."

Moving closer, Jim nodded absently. He could see that his best friend's chest was moving, up and down. He was breathing, yes. He was alive, yes.

He took Artie's hand in his and pressed it, feeling the warmth of it, smiling. "He's not cold, he's alive…" He finally realized.

Dr. Forbes pointed his forefinger toward the cot next to Artie's. "You can sleep here. But first I'm going to take care of those bruises and scratches…"

Once the medical officer had left, Jim dressed in white pajamas, brushed Artemus's wild hair back from his forehead. "Everything's going to be alright," he said, his heavy eyelids already falling shut. "You're safe now Artie, you're safe." He scrubbed at his bearded face with his hands. "God, I'm so tired..." He exhaled heavily before hiding a huge yawn behind his hand.

He lay down on the cot and fell fast asleep.

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The next morning

Eyes fluttering open, Artemus stared a few seconds at a wooden ceiling, and realized two things simultaneously: first he was still alive, which was good, and two, he was on a ship. He could feel the ground moving with the roll and all the noises linked to life on board: the creaking of ropes and spars, the slamming of the sails, the whistles, people shouting orders, etc.

Confused, he frowned, trying to remember how he had ended up on a ship, but the last thing he remembered was Jim, shooting him during the war. "He'o…? J'm? An'one?" He slurred, speech affected by both sleep and laudanum "J'm? Y're here?"

Napping on the side cot, Jim was awakened by the sound of Artemus's voice and he sat on Artie's small collapsible bed a couple of seconds later. "I'm here! Artie, I'm here," he said with a reassuring voice. Placing a hand on Artie's, Jim asked softly, "How are you feeling buddy?"

Smiling weakly, his eyes glassy, Artie said, "A-live… and, as I can't feel a'y pain, I s'ppose I'm drugged. And-and I'm a bit light h'ded."

Placing a hand on Artie's shoulder Jim was very happy to announce to his partner, "That's laudanum. You're in the sickbay of the USS Tennessee. You've had an operation, but everything's fine. The ship's doctor told me the surgery went well, Artemus. You're out of danger and you won't have any lasting effects. You have an external fixation device to keep your broken shin stabilized."

Blinking dazedly Artie nodded, slowly. "What? Can you tell me what's going on? What happened?" He asked a bit clearer this time.

Jim continued, "The USS Tennessee rescued us after they discovered that the lighthouse had burnt down. We left the island and are heading toward Tampa where the ship will assist the people affected by the hurricane which has particularly devastated Florida. We should reach it within three days. Then we'll disembark and you will be transferred to the local hospital, until the Wanderer arrives in Tampa. Two agents from New Orleans will transfer our belongings and horses from Mobile to the Wanderer before it leaves for Tampa. Then you will be transferred to the Washington Military Hospital where Dr. Henderson will remove that external fixation device and place a cast around your leg. You'll have a long recovery."

His smile broadening, Artie said, "I know a few lovely nurses there… Remember Lizzy? The blond-haired one? She's adorable." He yawned widely and closed his eyes. "Blue eyes…"

Smoothing Artie's hair back from his forehead in a brotherly gesture, Jim said, "Yes, I remember. You'll be all pampered there; Artie and Dr. Henderson will take care of you." Watching Artie's haggard eyes, he added, "You just get some sleep now, you've done enough talking."

Moving his head to the side on the fluffy pillow, Artemus relaxed and slurred, "Blue eyes…" Then he drifted off to sleep.

Jim heard a snore.

Tbc.