Chapter 3
Personal Medical Journal of Doctor Luis Sebastian.
As I have not had time to dedicate to my personal journal, as my duty to the ship calls for that journal to be kept up to date, I will make a brief summation of all that has happened this past couple of weeks. It seems that the ship had come in contact with the influenza. Possibly this happened during the time that we were replenishing our stock and stores. At first there was no real sign of the problems this near epidemic would create.
Luckily for me, the good Captain Pellew keeps a clean ship, or the Lord knows what might have happened with this plague.
My first sign of problems came when one of the young loblolly boys fell ill. I fear children are more susceptible due to their petite sizes and childlike ways. They don't tend to wash as often as they should. Sometimes I think if the Captain did not weigh anchor once in a while and allow the men and boys who could swim to jump overboard they would never take to water. Sometimes, the Lieutenants would line the lot of them up and turn the bilge pumps on and blast the whole crew. The kids especially were handed cakes of lye to scrub their filthy hides, and then mops to clean the decks afterwards. More time than not, though, our time did not leave us to such leisure. We are, after all, in a war.
I had no longer put him to bed when two more of the ship's boys and a rating were brought to sick berth. In a day's time I had four very sick men in my berth. Odds were not in my favor. God, it would seem, was about to set into action one of his many tests of my faith and my will.
By the next morning, I had doubled the numbers of men who found themselves complaining of coughs and aches; some already felled to the fever that made this illness so complicated. By the end of that week one of the older ratings had died and my numbers in sick berth had again doubled. Unfortunately, I was unable to keep track of those who had not fallen ill. I had taken the time to visit with the Captain, who claimed to be of good health. I was not willing to take a chance; as well I knew our dear Captain possessed the Devil's own stubbornness when it came to admitting illness. So I gave him a quick check up, wearing a clean scarf across my nose and mouth in hope that should the illness have taken hold of me, I would not pass it to the Captain. Again I found him in good health, but unfortunately I had no time to check on my other strong-willed officers. If I had, I might have been able to catch Lieutenant Hornblower's illness before it had gotten so dire.
When the young acting lieutenant carried Horatio's body though the door, I first thought was he was dead in his arms. Praise God, I was wrong. It took Mr. Matthews to lead Archie Kennedy from my domain whilst I cared for Mr. Hornblower.
Mr. Kennedy and Mr. Hornblower had been a bit at odds as of late, but you could still see the strong look of concern in his eyes. I wished I could have promised him that Mr. Hornblower would be fine; it was the only thing he wanted to know as Mr. Matthews tried to lead him away under my orders. I cared greatly for both these young men, whom, despite one's current anger towards the other, were more like brothers than any two young men I have ever met. All I could tell him as he left the room was to have faith that whatever happens it is but a small part of God's bigger plan for all of us. Now as I look back on my words, I think I understand why it did not have the desired effect that I had hoped for. I think it would have been better to have said; 'I can not say at this time, I am sorry,' and left it alone. For now I know why the young man looked as if he had been betrayed and abandoned by me, Horatio and God.
Gratefully, Mr. Hornblower, being the greatly blessed young man that he is, did survive. He was at the time, I believed, the last to fall victim of the epidemic, and with little regards of the nearness he had come to his own mortality, it was all I could do when he did regain his senses to keep him abed. By the time Mr. Hornblower showed signs of improvement, I had lost two more of the older ratings. I was able to hold Mr. Hornblower down for nearly a week, before it became evident that he would wander out if I did not release him soon. I sent him back to his own cabin, currently shared with Mr. Kennedy, under the guise that he was still under orders to rest for the next day and then he could take up light duties on the morrow. Little did I suspect I would see him again before the afternoon sun was high in the sky.
Mr. Kennedy, it seemed had been taking on his own duties as well as Horatio's and some of the ratings' duties; too much for a young man. On the day I relinquished Mr. Hornblower to his own accord, it seems young Archie's body chose to give in to the illness that he, too, had been concealing. To put it in Horatio's words, it was as if a cannonball had hit him. Mr. Kennedy's body is frailer than one would notice, to look on him His strength stems from God and the stubborn willpower that would shame a mule. I can only suppose that he succumbed to the illness after being in such close contact to Mr. Hornblower during the fevering. Mr. Kennedy, also on rare occasions, suffers from seizures of great magnitude, which I was informed happened almost immediately after his collapse. This ailment causes him to lose control of his body and mind and often is signified by his body, as a whole, thrashing about viscously. These can last as long as a few seconds to several minutes. I am told that if someone is around him when it happens they can usually coax his mind back and stop the event. In most cases he falls immediately to sleep, as if his body has used all of its energy.
Until now, I had not actually seen the depths of these seizures. He had seemed almost cured of them since I first came aboard. I wish I knew what caused them, or better yet, what it was that held them at bay, for I would give anything to stay this boy's pain. Mr. Kennedy's illness seems to have taken firm hold of him. His cough is mild, but the fever burns incessantly. He has suffered several fits since being brought here and I fear it may be that whatever is causing his fits is allowing the influenza to take hold.
Mr. Hornblower once told me that the fits were usually suffered in times of great mental anguish; times such as when he was a young midshipman on board the Justinian. Everyday since I met the young lad, found myself grateful to God above for never having known the man who so horribly abused him. Mr. Hornblower informed me that it has only happened a few times recently, during nightmares when Mr. Kennedy slept, and once the young man was awakened and assured of where he was, he would fall fast asleep showing no sign of the difficulties. On the other hand, I have been witness to the young officer under the most diverse situations, and not only has he held his own, but he has brought he and his crew out completely unscathed. So I do not suspect that stress from his work would be the cause of this duress. I have asked him directly to try and tell me what is weighing so heavily on his mind that the ailment is beginning to grab hold, but he denies there is a problem. So I have told him my predicament: if the seizures do not stop soon, I will have to declare him unfit for duty. They are happening far too often to be healthy.
I do not think I could have stunned him more if I had slapped him across the face. Still, I told him my suspicions and asked him to bear with me. If he could not tell me outright, perhaps he could write his feelings down in a journal; whatever it took to free him from this anguish. At first, all did not bode well, he only got frustrated and threw the book heavily across the room, but finally he is beginning to write. Still, the fever burned, and the fits and bad dreams were happening more often. He was not confiding the contents of his journal to me, and I swore on my oath that I would not invade his privacy; I would not read the contents of the book. I had only one recourse left: prayer.
If something is not done soon, this child will pass beyond my reach. How odd that he would suffer and survive such trials, only to fall prey to an innocent virus. I find it hard to believe that his life was not spared for a more important duty. He is now being felled by a weak stomach; my elixirs are no longer any help, as along with anything else he consumes, he immediately retches them back up. Unconscious sleep has become a welcome respite for the lad. I beg You, Lord, harbor him in the safety of Your bosom. If it be Your will that he return home, then I beg You to ease the suffering. Thy will be done.
Mr. Hornblower came to visit with Mr. Kennedy today. I fear the fever has taken Mr. Kennedy past my ability to reach him, so I begged the Captain for the temporary reassignment of Mr. Hornblower to my care. He had not been by to see Mr. Kennedy, as he has now taken on watch on watch to cover the young acting lieutenant's duties. Enough time has not passed since Horatio was lying that close to death that he should be taking on such responsibilities. I gave my word that he could do his normal shift on deck, but afterwards he was to report to me.
I had two reasons for this request: the first I already explained; the second, I needed someone to get through to Mr. Kennedy. I needed someone who could break down the shield he has put up to keep from being hurt. If any one could do that, I knew it would be Mr. Hornblower. What I didn't realize was who all would be hurt when the shield finally shattered.
Mr. Hornblower sat next to Archie, wiping the sweat from the young man's brow as he quietly listened to Mr. Kennedy's mindless murmurs. Every once in a while he would speak in French or even Spanish, but for the longest time they did not seem to make any sense. He talked about Napoleon and Josephine. He talked about Shakespeare and he talked about the Don who held him captive for so long, but he talked as if he was directing children by those names.
It was not soon after my last entry that the ship became engaged in battle. My patient just as suddenly grew anguished by the fever. In his delirium, he began crying out for forgiveness and for Mr. Hornblower not to die. His cries were barely audible over the cannon fire. He cried out for God to forgive him, begged for his mercy on his friend. He had built himself up into such a tizzy that I did not think I could contain him to the bed much longer. I was busy attempting to tie Mr. Kennedy down, for he was in no condition to leave the bed and yet the moment the cannon fire roared he took to trying to slip his mooring like a man on a mission, when a ship's boy came running down stairs screaming that my assistance was needed topside. No sooner was I able to tie the young acting lieutenant down, when Styles came down and screamed at me.
"Sir, come quick! It's the Captain and Mr. Hornblower, sir!"
By blessed intervention alone I feel grateful that I am not currently attending two more funerals than I have already watched performed this day. We lost five ratings, two of the young powder monkeys and, unfortunately, one officer.
The fight, is seemed, was more brutal than our young men had seen in sometime. Mr. Hornblower was the officer on watch when the fight began. He had called to quarters long before the first initial shot was fired. Mr. Shaffer, Mr. Bowels and the Captain quickly joined him on the decks as the first shot was fired. Although the French ship was much larger than our own, you will not find a group of men with more stout of heart than what crews the Indefatigable. We were making great headway, so I was told, and the French ship was in process of lowering their flag when it fired off one more shot. The ball exploded into the mizzenmast, throwing splintering shards everywhere. Mr. Hornblower threw himself in front of the Captain when the ball struck the mast, his effort knocked himself and the Captain to the deck, but unfortunately for Lieutenant Shaffer, the top mizzen's topmast and yardarms fell hard on to the spot where he had still stood. Under Mr. Bowels' command, the men took charge of the frigate.
The Captain was pinned beneath Mr. Hornblower, who was unconscious, and both were pinned by wreckage sprawled across the deck. It only took the men a matter of minutes to remove enough of the debris to free the Captain and his young Lieutenant. Captain Pellew was uninjured, thanks to the quick thinking and movement of the often-clumsy Mr. Hornblower. The Lieutenant was not so lucky; the splinters that most assuredly would have struck our captain down were lodged in this young man. For the apparent blood loss I found when I got to the upper deck, it is no wonder everyone thought him to be dead, but once again our heavenly Father found mercy on this young man. Despite the multitude of splinters and the severity of the total injury, nothing he suffered was mortal as long as we were certain to remove all the wood and keep the wounds clean for a few days.
As I returned to the sick berth with the wounded, I found Mr. Kennedy solemnly quiet. His eyes appeared open and his stare blank. I feared he died in my absence, but when I took a closer look, I found tears still streamed from his eyes. Suddenly, he began to mumble, his shallow breaths being interrupted by an occasional word or two. He spoke of death, but I could not stay and wait for the words that slowly spilled out of his grief. I begged Mr. Matthews to sit with the young lieutenant and attempt to calm him and write the words down. I turned my concerns to Mr. Hornblower and his injuries. A few times I heard Mr. Matthews cry out to the lad that he was having a bad dream, to wake up and see that Mr. Hornblower lives. When he finally passed out again, Matthew feared he had stopped breathing, but instead he had finally fallen asleep; a deep, frightfully deep sleep. It was then that I realized that while the fever had broken, his body was already worn to its limits. Yes, he was a sleep, but he may never awaken.
Surgery was long, but it went well. The procedure of removing the splinters from Mr. Hornblower's back was painful and slow. He refused Laudanum, so I settled for feeding him the medicinal brandy I kept in the cabinet. I filled a mug and told him to drink as he felt the need. At first he sipped the drink but after I pulled free the first piece of wood from his back, he gulped down the rest. It was not that he no longer felt the pain. No, the liquid just left him not caring about it. After his second mug of this strong drink, he passed out. After the procedure was done, I had him moved to one of the berths in the same room as Archie.
I talked to Mr. Hornblower after he regained consciousness His first concerns were for the Captain, then for the ship and then he asked me about Archie. The ship, like himself, was in need of a little repair work and it would be good as new. The Captain was totally unharmed but for the bump on the head when a certain young officer tackled him, tossing him harshly to the deck
When I got a chance, I read the words that had been left on a piece of parchment by the boson. They read: 'My fault. God forgive me, I didn't mean it. I was scared ...angry. I wished him dead. I didn't mean it. Forgive me. Horatio, forgive me...my....friend ...I killed ...you.... O death....where ...is... thy sting...O...grave...where is thy...victory?'
The man had lost his will to live and it seems to come from the belief that he had killed Horatio Hornblower. I tried to explain to Mr. Hornblower what little I could, without betraying the confidence that fell within doctor and patient privileges. But it only served to work Mr. Hornblower up.
He struggled to get up, and did not give up until I threatened to drug him to a stupor, then he stopped his fussing. I forced him to down a small glass of brandy before I left the room with my two patients to go check on the Captain under the promise from the lieutenant that he would remain abed. I left a loblolly boy to see to their needs and come for me if the need should warrant. I had not thought to remove Archie's journal from the stand beside the beds. I would not have expected Horatio would have been the sort of man to invade the privacy of another, but when the young boy, Barrows, came banging on the Captain's cabin yelling that Mr. Hornblower had lost his mind, I returned to find him out of his bed and yelling at the sleeping form on the opposite one.
The Captain and I attempted to pull him back to his pallet when he hit me in the arm with the book that had been on the bedside table. He was drunk and angry. His words came sloshing out as if he had been on a three-day leave. It was as if he didn't even recognize the Captain. He just pushed his way through us and back to Mr. Kennedy's bedside. I will never forget what happened next.
"You and your damned pride" he yelled at me. "You and my father are no different. The answer was right in front of you, but because you were afraid to break that stupid code, you did not bother to look. Well I don't have to abide by that trust. I broke it anyway the day I told you about his back."
He seemed to be swaying. He ignored the Captain's constant orders to return to his bed and it was all I could do to keep Captain Pellew from ordering the marines in and clapping him in irons. He had already reopened some of the wounds on his back, a fight would only make things worse. I was fairly sure that the tantrum was caused by the brandy. Suddenly, Mr. Hornblower fell to the floor, but he still talked, tears falling from his eyes as he spoke. He slowly crawled on his knees up to Archie's bed and began to talk to the young man at his side.
"I know you hate me for what I did," he announced, "but I would do it again to protect you...to protect me. You are my friend and I could not bear to lose you again. Not even to the Admiralty and her rules. Hate me all you want, I can live with that as long as you are here, but don't hate yourself for something you cannot change. None of this is your fault, Archie. Wake up; I need you ...I..."
He never got to finish his train of thought because the pain and the brandy had finally won out. Mid-sentence he fell limply across Mr. Kennedy's chest. Pellew finally called in the Marines, who helped me gently lay the injured man back onto his own bed, then left. "I am sorry, Captain," I whispered. "The last glass of brandy must have been too much. I am certain he was unaware of who he was even talking to half the time."
"I will deal with the insubordination when the Lieutenants are better." He watched as I cut yet another shirt from the young man's back. "At the rate he is going, he will be pulling his duties in nappies and his hat," the Captain laughed incredulously.
I smiled at the Captain's attempt at humor, but the truth was, this shirt was borrowed from my personal wardrobe because the lieutenant only had one dress shirt left of his own.
As if the Captain had read my thoughts, he turned to head out the door. "I will see what I can find amongst my dunnage. I believe Mr. Matthews can mend this one. And maybe take in one of my older shirts, in hopes that it he may not need to soil any more of his own clothing. After all, had it not been for his infernal act of bravery, it would have been me laying in that bed... or worse."
As I have not had time to dedicate to my personal journal, as my duty to the ship calls for that journal to be kept up to date, I will make a brief summation of all that has happened this past couple of weeks. It seems that the ship had come in contact with the influenza. Possibly this happened during the time that we were replenishing our stock and stores. At first there was no real sign of the problems this near epidemic would create.
Luckily for me, the good Captain Pellew keeps a clean ship, or the Lord knows what might have happened with this plague.
My first sign of problems came when one of the young loblolly boys fell ill. I fear children are more susceptible due to their petite sizes and childlike ways. They don't tend to wash as often as they should. Sometimes I think if the Captain did not weigh anchor once in a while and allow the men and boys who could swim to jump overboard they would never take to water. Sometimes, the Lieutenants would line the lot of them up and turn the bilge pumps on and blast the whole crew. The kids especially were handed cakes of lye to scrub their filthy hides, and then mops to clean the decks afterwards. More time than not, though, our time did not leave us to such leisure. We are, after all, in a war.
I had no longer put him to bed when two more of the ship's boys and a rating were brought to sick berth. In a day's time I had four very sick men in my berth. Odds were not in my favor. God, it would seem, was about to set into action one of his many tests of my faith and my will.
By the next morning, I had doubled the numbers of men who found themselves complaining of coughs and aches; some already felled to the fever that made this illness so complicated. By the end of that week one of the older ratings had died and my numbers in sick berth had again doubled. Unfortunately, I was unable to keep track of those who had not fallen ill. I had taken the time to visit with the Captain, who claimed to be of good health. I was not willing to take a chance; as well I knew our dear Captain possessed the Devil's own stubbornness when it came to admitting illness. So I gave him a quick check up, wearing a clean scarf across my nose and mouth in hope that should the illness have taken hold of me, I would not pass it to the Captain. Again I found him in good health, but unfortunately I had no time to check on my other strong-willed officers. If I had, I might have been able to catch Lieutenant Hornblower's illness before it had gotten so dire.
When the young acting lieutenant carried Horatio's body though the door, I first thought was he was dead in his arms. Praise God, I was wrong. It took Mr. Matthews to lead Archie Kennedy from my domain whilst I cared for Mr. Hornblower.
Mr. Kennedy and Mr. Hornblower had been a bit at odds as of late, but you could still see the strong look of concern in his eyes. I wished I could have promised him that Mr. Hornblower would be fine; it was the only thing he wanted to know as Mr. Matthews tried to lead him away under my orders. I cared greatly for both these young men, whom, despite one's current anger towards the other, were more like brothers than any two young men I have ever met. All I could tell him as he left the room was to have faith that whatever happens it is but a small part of God's bigger plan for all of us. Now as I look back on my words, I think I understand why it did not have the desired effect that I had hoped for. I think it would have been better to have said; 'I can not say at this time, I am sorry,' and left it alone. For now I know why the young man looked as if he had been betrayed and abandoned by me, Horatio and God.
Gratefully, Mr. Hornblower, being the greatly blessed young man that he is, did survive. He was at the time, I believed, the last to fall victim of the epidemic, and with little regards of the nearness he had come to his own mortality, it was all I could do when he did regain his senses to keep him abed. By the time Mr. Hornblower showed signs of improvement, I had lost two more of the older ratings. I was able to hold Mr. Hornblower down for nearly a week, before it became evident that he would wander out if I did not release him soon. I sent him back to his own cabin, currently shared with Mr. Kennedy, under the guise that he was still under orders to rest for the next day and then he could take up light duties on the morrow. Little did I suspect I would see him again before the afternoon sun was high in the sky.
Mr. Kennedy, it seemed had been taking on his own duties as well as Horatio's and some of the ratings' duties; too much for a young man. On the day I relinquished Mr. Hornblower to his own accord, it seems young Archie's body chose to give in to the illness that he, too, had been concealing. To put it in Horatio's words, it was as if a cannonball had hit him. Mr. Kennedy's body is frailer than one would notice, to look on him His strength stems from God and the stubborn willpower that would shame a mule. I can only suppose that he succumbed to the illness after being in such close contact to Mr. Hornblower during the fevering. Mr. Kennedy, also on rare occasions, suffers from seizures of great magnitude, which I was informed happened almost immediately after his collapse. This ailment causes him to lose control of his body and mind and often is signified by his body, as a whole, thrashing about viscously. These can last as long as a few seconds to several minutes. I am told that if someone is around him when it happens they can usually coax his mind back and stop the event. In most cases he falls immediately to sleep, as if his body has used all of its energy.
Until now, I had not actually seen the depths of these seizures. He had seemed almost cured of them since I first came aboard. I wish I knew what caused them, or better yet, what it was that held them at bay, for I would give anything to stay this boy's pain. Mr. Kennedy's illness seems to have taken firm hold of him. His cough is mild, but the fever burns incessantly. He has suffered several fits since being brought here and I fear it may be that whatever is causing his fits is allowing the influenza to take hold.
Mr. Hornblower once told me that the fits were usually suffered in times of great mental anguish; times such as when he was a young midshipman on board the Justinian. Everyday since I met the young lad, found myself grateful to God above for never having known the man who so horribly abused him. Mr. Hornblower informed me that it has only happened a few times recently, during nightmares when Mr. Kennedy slept, and once the young man was awakened and assured of where he was, he would fall fast asleep showing no sign of the difficulties. On the other hand, I have been witness to the young officer under the most diverse situations, and not only has he held his own, but he has brought he and his crew out completely unscathed. So I do not suspect that stress from his work would be the cause of this duress. I have asked him directly to try and tell me what is weighing so heavily on his mind that the ailment is beginning to grab hold, but he denies there is a problem. So I have told him my predicament: if the seizures do not stop soon, I will have to declare him unfit for duty. They are happening far too often to be healthy.
I do not think I could have stunned him more if I had slapped him across the face. Still, I told him my suspicions and asked him to bear with me. If he could not tell me outright, perhaps he could write his feelings down in a journal; whatever it took to free him from this anguish. At first, all did not bode well, he only got frustrated and threw the book heavily across the room, but finally he is beginning to write. Still, the fever burned, and the fits and bad dreams were happening more often. He was not confiding the contents of his journal to me, and I swore on my oath that I would not invade his privacy; I would not read the contents of the book. I had only one recourse left: prayer.
If something is not done soon, this child will pass beyond my reach. How odd that he would suffer and survive such trials, only to fall prey to an innocent virus. I find it hard to believe that his life was not spared for a more important duty. He is now being felled by a weak stomach; my elixirs are no longer any help, as along with anything else he consumes, he immediately retches them back up. Unconscious sleep has become a welcome respite for the lad. I beg You, Lord, harbor him in the safety of Your bosom. If it be Your will that he return home, then I beg You to ease the suffering. Thy will be done.
Mr. Hornblower came to visit with Mr. Kennedy today. I fear the fever has taken Mr. Kennedy past my ability to reach him, so I begged the Captain for the temporary reassignment of Mr. Hornblower to my care. He had not been by to see Mr. Kennedy, as he has now taken on watch on watch to cover the young acting lieutenant's duties. Enough time has not passed since Horatio was lying that close to death that he should be taking on such responsibilities. I gave my word that he could do his normal shift on deck, but afterwards he was to report to me.
I had two reasons for this request: the first I already explained; the second, I needed someone to get through to Mr. Kennedy. I needed someone who could break down the shield he has put up to keep from being hurt. If any one could do that, I knew it would be Mr. Hornblower. What I didn't realize was who all would be hurt when the shield finally shattered.
Mr. Hornblower sat next to Archie, wiping the sweat from the young man's brow as he quietly listened to Mr. Kennedy's mindless murmurs. Every once in a while he would speak in French or even Spanish, but for the longest time they did not seem to make any sense. He talked about Napoleon and Josephine. He talked about Shakespeare and he talked about the Don who held him captive for so long, but he talked as if he was directing children by those names.
It was not soon after my last entry that the ship became engaged in battle. My patient just as suddenly grew anguished by the fever. In his delirium, he began crying out for forgiveness and for Mr. Hornblower not to die. His cries were barely audible over the cannon fire. He cried out for God to forgive him, begged for his mercy on his friend. He had built himself up into such a tizzy that I did not think I could contain him to the bed much longer. I was busy attempting to tie Mr. Kennedy down, for he was in no condition to leave the bed and yet the moment the cannon fire roared he took to trying to slip his mooring like a man on a mission, when a ship's boy came running down stairs screaming that my assistance was needed topside. No sooner was I able to tie the young acting lieutenant down, when Styles came down and screamed at me.
"Sir, come quick! It's the Captain and Mr. Hornblower, sir!"
By blessed intervention alone I feel grateful that I am not currently attending two more funerals than I have already watched performed this day. We lost five ratings, two of the young powder monkeys and, unfortunately, one officer.
The fight, is seemed, was more brutal than our young men had seen in sometime. Mr. Hornblower was the officer on watch when the fight began. He had called to quarters long before the first initial shot was fired. Mr. Shaffer, Mr. Bowels and the Captain quickly joined him on the decks as the first shot was fired. Although the French ship was much larger than our own, you will not find a group of men with more stout of heart than what crews the Indefatigable. We were making great headway, so I was told, and the French ship was in process of lowering their flag when it fired off one more shot. The ball exploded into the mizzenmast, throwing splintering shards everywhere. Mr. Hornblower threw himself in front of the Captain when the ball struck the mast, his effort knocked himself and the Captain to the deck, but unfortunately for Lieutenant Shaffer, the top mizzen's topmast and yardarms fell hard on to the spot where he had still stood. Under Mr. Bowels' command, the men took charge of the frigate.
The Captain was pinned beneath Mr. Hornblower, who was unconscious, and both were pinned by wreckage sprawled across the deck. It only took the men a matter of minutes to remove enough of the debris to free the Captain and his young Lieutenant. Captain Pellew was uninjured, thanks to the quick thinking and movement of the often-clumsy Mr. Hornblower. The Lieutenant was not so lucky; the splinters that most assuredly would have struck our captain down were lodged in this young man. For the apparent blood loss I found when I got to the upper deck, it is no wonder everyone thought him to be dead, but once again our heavenly Father found mercy on this young man. Despite the multitude of splinters and the severity of the total injury, nothing he suffered was mortal as long as we were certain to remove all the wood and keep the wounds clean for a few days.
As I returned to the sick berth with the wounded, I found Mr. Kennedy solemnly quiet. His eyes appeared open and his stare blank. I feared he died in my absence, but when I took a closer look, I found tears still streamed from his eyes. Suddenly, he began to mumble, his shallow breaths being interrupted by an occasional word or two. He spoke of death, but I could not stay and wait for the words that slowly spilled out of his grief. I begged Mr. Matthews to sit with the young lieutenant and attempt to calm him and write the words down. I turned my concerns to Mr. Hornblower and his injuries. A few times I heard Mr. Matthews cry out to the lad that he was having a bad dream, to wake up and see that Mr. Hornblower lives. When he finally passed out again, Matthew feared he had stopped breathing, but instead he had finally fallen asleep; a deep, frightfully deep sleep. It was then that I realized that while the fever had broken, his body was already worn to its limits. Yes, he was a sleep, but he may never awaken.
Surgery was long, but it went well. The procedure of removing the splinters from Mr. Hornblower's back was painful and slow. He refused Laudanum, so I settled for feeding him the medicinal brandy I kept in the cabinet. I filled a mug and told him to drink as he felt the need. At first he sipped the drink but after I pulled free the first piece of wood from his back, he gulped down the rest. It was not that he no longer felt the pain. No, the liquid just left him not caring about it. After his second mug of this strong drink, he passed out. After the procedure was done, I had him moved to one of the berths in the same room as Archie.
I talked to Mr. Hornblower after he regained consciousness His first concerns were for the Captain, then for the ship and then he asked me about Archie. The ship, like himself, was in need of a little repair work and it would be good as new. The Captain was totally unharmed but for the bump on the head when a certain young officer tackled him, tossing him harshly to the deck
When I got a chance, I read the words that had been left on a piece of parchment by the boson. They read: 'My fault. God forgive me, I didn't mean it. I was scared ...angry. I wished him dead. I didn't mean it. Forgive me. Horatio, forgive me...my....friend ...I killed ...you.... O death....where ...is... thy sting...O...grave...where is thy...victory?'
The man had lost his will to live and it seems to come from the belief that he had killed Horatio Hornblower. I tried to explain to Mr. Hornblower what little I could, without betraying the confidence that fell within doctor and patient privileges. But it only served to work Mr. Hornblower up.
He struggled to get up, and did not give up until I threatened to drug him to a stupor, then he stopped his fussing. I forced him to down a small glass of brandy before I left the room with my two patients to go check on the Captain under the promise from the lieutenant that he would remain abed. I left a loblolly boy to see to their needs and come for me if the need should warrant. I had not thought to remove Archie's journal from the stand beside the beds. I would not have expected Horatio would have been the sort of man to invade the privacy of another, but when the young boy, Barrows, came banging on the Captain's cabin yelling that Mr. Hornblower had lost his mind, I returned to find him out of his bed and yelling at the sleeping form on the opposite one.
The Captain and I attempted to pull him back to his pallet when he hit me in the arm with the book that had been on the bedside table. He was drunk and angry. His words came sloshing out as if he had been on a three-day leave. It was as if he didn't even recognize the Captain. He just pushed his way through us and back to Mr. Kennedy's bedside. I will never forget what happened next.
"You and your damned pride" he yelled at me. "You and my father are no different. The answer was right in front of you, but because you were afraid to break that stupid code, you did not bother to look. Well I don't have to abide by that trust. I broke it anyway the day I told you about his back."
He seemed to be swaying. He ignored the Captain's constant orders to return to his bed and it was all I could do to keep Captain Pellew from ordering the marines in and clapping him in irons. He had already reopened some of the wounds on his back, a fight would only make things worse. I was fairly sure that the tantrum was caused by the brandy. Suddenly, Mr. Hornblower fell to the floor, but he still talked, tears falling from his eyes as he spoke. He slowly crawled on his knees up to Archie's bed and began to talk to the young man at his side.
"I know you hate me for what I did," he announced, "but I would do it again to protect you...to protect me. You are my friend and I could not bear to lose you again. Not even to the Admiralty and her rules. Hate me all you want, I can live with that as long as you are here, but don't hate yourself for something you cannot change. None of this is your fault, Archie. Wake up; I need you ...I..."
He never got to finish his train of thought because the pain and the brandy had finally won out. Mid-sentence he fell limply across Mr. Kennedy's chest. Pellew finally called in the Marines, who helped me gently lay the injured man back onto his own bed, then left. "I am sorry, Captain," I whispered. "The last glass of brandy must have been too much. I am certain he was unaware of who he was even talking to half the time."
"I will deal with the insubordination when the Lieutenants are better." He watched as I cut yet another shirt from the young man's back. "At the rate he is going, he will be pulling his duties in nappies and his hat," the Captain laughed incredulously.
I smiled at the Captain's attempt at humor, but the truth was, this shirt was borrowed from my personal wardrobe because the lieutenant only had one dress shirt left of his own.
As if the Captain had read my thoughts, he turned to head out the door. "I will see what I can find amongst my dunnage. I believe Mr. Matthews can mend this one. And maybe take in one of my older shirts, in hopes that it he may not need to soil any more of his own clothing. After all, had it not been for his infernal act of bravery, it would have been me laying in that bed... or worse."