NIGHT FEVER
Disclaimer. As Chapter 1.
NIGHT FEVER
Chapter Four
Gibbs stayed perfectly still, his mind working quickly. Pintel and Ragetti couldn't see him from the road; he would get no help from that quarter. Speed was his only defence. He lifted his foot and stamped down hard, grabbing his assailant's wrist, twisting their arm away from him as he did so.
He heard a gasp and a womanly cry. He released his attacker and turned to face them.
"Miss Elizabeth?" he quickly said. "Tis me, Gibbs."
Elizabeth looked up from her position on one knee, where the force of his twisting her arm had thrown her.
"Mr Gibbs?" she questioned. "What on earth are you doing here in the middle of the night?"
Gibbs quickly explained and, moments later Jack was being carried into the cottage on the closet door. He was transferred to the bed while Elizabeth was given lengthier details of what had transpired. They agreed that The Pearl would stay in harbour for a few days. Gibbs privately thought that they would need to in order to attend Jack's funeral, but knew that if there were a chance of saving him, she would do everything in her power to pull him through.
"Ye won't b' able t' nurse 'im by yerself, Miss Elizabeth." said Gibbs.
She agreed and racked her brains for a solution. "A ladies maid of mine settled in Tortuga after leaving my Father's employ, some 8 or 9 years ago. Could you possibly see if you could find her for me? I don't even know if she is still in the area, but if she is, ask her to attend me tomorrow morning? Assure her that she will be well compensated."
"Aye. I will, Miss."
"Her name is Juliette Walters. Someone will know of her."
"I'll find 'er, Miss Elizabeth. We'll b' stoppin' 'ere fer a few days. Send word if yer need anythin'."
Moments later, they left, leaving her and Jack together.
Elizabeth took a lantern and placed it by the bed, revealing Jack's face, which had previously been in shadow. She gasped at the sight of him. He had fallen into deep unconsciousness. His skin had a red, unnatural flush to it, with an almost translucent quality beneath the weathered features. Sweat dotted his brow, highlighting the furrows of pain. She lowered the sheet to examine his wound and noted the blood and pus seeping through the roughly fashioned bandage.
It took a while to soak the bandage off as it had adhered to the wound and Jack's skin, but eventually the wound was exposed to her gaze.
"Oh my God…Jack!" she exclaimed out load. "What in God's name am I to do with that?"
Her heart sank. The wound worse that she had feared…much, much worse. It was heavily infected, the smooth edges were starting to break down, and crusted scabs of pus were everywhere. The stench was overpowering.
'He's going to die from this!' she thought. 'I can't cure this – no-one can! It's too bad. Oh, Jack! I'm sorry!'
But she had to try. Had to do everything she could to save the man lying so helpless, so desperately ill before her. 'Think…think! Yes! Clean it!'
She turned and quickly fetched her small medical kit, a sheet, and, 'how Jack would laugh!', a bottle of Rum. She tore the sheet into strips, poured a good quantity of rum into the wound and started to clean away all of the infection she could see. Her stomach started to rebel, bile rising in her throat. Ignoring it, she worked on. The pile of soiled linen grew at an alarming rate, but finally the job was completed. She made a hot poultice, soaked a freshly laundered piece of linen in it and packed the deep cleft with it. She placed a snug bandage around him to keep it in place, finding the physical act of rolling his dead weight exhausting.
Having done what she could, she sat back, and to her surprise, immediately burst into tears. She couldn't see how he could possibly survive an injury so severe, with such a raging infection. She sat and sobbed out her frustration at being able to do so little for him. She knew that, although a Pirate, he was a good man. He didn't deserve to die like this, she thought.
Finally, she realised just how much this rough and ready Pirate meant to her and she pledged that she would do all that she could for him. It would be their biggest battle yet, but, she mused, neither of them was a quitter. She would make him fight. She had enough strength for them both.
The hours slid slowly by. Jack lay as still as death for a while, but, as the night wore on, he started to toss and turn, alternating between incoherent mumblings and shouting out orders, obviously believing that he was still captaining The Pearl.
Through it all, Elizabeth sat by him, bathing his hot, fevered skin with cold water, checking that his bandage was clean and murmuring soothing words to him. The sheet had long ago been thrown from his body, and Elizabeth soon realised that if she were to bring his dangerously high temperature down, she would have to remove his breeches, which were trapping heat against his body. She unfastened the buttons and slowly tugged them down his legs, imagining what he would have to say if he were conscious. The thought immediately caused heat to rise in her cheeks.
The movement immediately started Jack mumbling again and she trailed her gaze up his body to his face, feeling yet more heat flood her as she did so. She resumed her task, finally easing them off him and, fetching more water, she bathed his body repeatedly to cool him, finally bringing the sheet back up to his waist.
Edging her chair closer to the bed, she sat, leaning her elbows on the bed with his hand clasped between hers. She had done everything that she could think of for now. It was now up to Jack.
"Please fight, Jack." She whispered, leaning closer to him. "I need you to fight. Don't leave me. Please don't leave me alone!"