Chapter 5: Awake

One day passed, and then another, then another. Mother and Robert resumed a relatively normal lifestyle. I, however, devoted myself entirely to the role of nurse. Robert brought food from the village and gathered fresh water. I brought pails of saltwater and seaweed from my pool. Mother cleaned the cave. I washed his face, arms and torso. She cooked for the family. I made cold compresses and dripped cool water onto his lips and into his mouth. She cleaned the linens and did the mending. I boiled scrap cloth and cut it into strips for bandages. Mother looked after us. I looked after him. I fell into a lull with my new occupation and things remained calm as they had always been until one morning, he awoke.

"Ouch!" I put down my pails and examined my arm where I had banged it into yet another cave wall. I was retrieving more seaweed from my pool and was hurrying as quickly as possibly to get the two pails of saltwater and greenery back to the sickroom before anything bad could happen to my patient. I had never been excessively light on my feet, a fault that was only compounded by trying to move quickly on uneven rock in the dark while carrying two very full pails of water. As a result of this endeavor I found myself in possession of many more scrapes and bruises than I had when I set off. In this instance the injury was relatively minor. I brushed the dirt off my arm and, realizing that it was not even bleeding, picked up my pails and continued onward. After walking for a few more minutes I began to see the light of our rooms. With my destination in sight I picked up speed. By the time I could see the entrance to the sickroom I had broken into a full jog, running jaggedly while sloshing water everywhere. Every cave was separated by a small stone ledge. Instead of slowing to insure I remained upright as any sane person would have done, I ran faster and took the ledge at a flying leap. In any other case this leap would have cleared the ledge, but in this particular instance I did not take into account the extra weight of the water which I carried. My miscalculation resulted in my catching my left foot on the ledge and skidding into the sickroom on my right knee, dragging my left leg behind me and one of the pails falling upside down on the rug.

"Blast!" I set the pails upright and grabbed all the scattered seaweed I could reach, depositing it safely into the surviving pail. Then I tried to get up, a task which I discovered was much easier said than done given my awkward landing. My left shoe had fallen off completely and the top of my foot was skinned and bleeding, as was my right knee. I stood and put my weight on my left foot and fell promptly back onto the floor. "Ow, oh spite!" I grabbed a chair in arms' reach and pulled myself to my feet, hobbling over to the table. I grabbed a bandage and began wrapping my ankle.

"Pardon me…" I jumped and immediately fell on my already sore backside yet again. I turned my head towards the invalid and saw that he was quite awake and staring at me with a slightly amused look on his pale face.

"You're awake!" He nodded weakly.

"It would appear so," he replied hoarsely. "You may want to clean off the blood before you wrap your foot." He lifted one finger and pointed to the bandage in my hand. I stared blankly at my foot, suddenly having forgotten why I was bleeding at all.

"Oh, yes. That would make more sense, would it not?" He chuckled slightly, after which he burst into a fit of coughing. I pulled myself to my feet once again and hopped to the bed with the water pitcher. After gingerly sitting at his side I lifted his chin with one hand and dribbled some water into his mouth. He sputtered slightly and swallowed. He drank again. The coughing stopped. He nodded to me.

"Thank you. I beg your pardon, but I do not remember where I am." I smiled slightly as I wiped some water from his chin.

"I do not believe how politely you are behaving considering your current state." He chuckled again. "You are on the island of Gozo, in the cave where I live with my mother. I am…"

"Cora." I smiled and squeezed the excess moisture from my cloth.

"Yes, that's right." He stared at me as I wiped the water from his lips. "…and I am taking care of you." The corners of his mouth turned up in a weak smile.

"Yes, yes that much I do remember."

"Mother! Mother, where are you?" I limped through the caves, once again stubbing several toes. I finally found her sitting outside mending an old shirt of Robert's. I leapt awkwardly in front of her, spraying sand into her lap in the process. She crossed her arms and looked at me with that disapproving gaze only mothers seem to have mastered.

"Yes? What is it that requires you to hurry so and dirty this nice clean shirt?" My cheeks went red. "And what is wrong with your leg?"

"I fell. I am sorry, Mother, but he is awake!" She stood quickly.

"Awake? Is he coherent?"

"Yes, he is. He is very weak and I believe does not remember how he arrived here, but I think other than that he is quite well!" Mother smiled and draped the shirt over her arm.

"Excellent!" She turned and headed back into the cave. I followed. She placed some dried meat in a pot and grabbed her herbs and a large spoon. "Bring some fresh water, love; we must get his strength up. He must try and drink some broth whenever he is awake." I took the water and followed her into the sickroom. She put down her load and went to the sick man's bedside. "Cora, stoke the fire and get the water hot." Mother bent over the sailor, who stared weakly up at her. She laid a hand on his forehead, feeling for fever. She gently pulled on his eyelids, looking to see that his eyes appeared normal. "Pardon me," she said as she pushed back his upper lip to examine his teeth and gums. When she seemed quite satisfied she stood back and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Well, young man, other than a want of food and water you appear to be recovering nicely." He coughed, slightly.

"Thank you, Mrs…."

"Edwards. I am…"

"Cora's mother." She smiled.

"Yes. My daughter has been quite the devoted nursemaid while you have been fighting the fever." He looked over at me. I blushed and turned back to the broth.

"Yes, it does appear that she has." He coughed and gave another weak smile. "I do not know how to express my gratitude…" Mother tutted and waved her hand.

"None of that, my dear, none of that. Thanks are not necessary, but if you must express them wait at least until you have had some broth." She gestured in my direction. "You must not waste your strength with speech." She patted his arm gently, turned and left the room.

It was quiet. I cut the meat into strips, stirred the water and mixed in herbs. He lay there. He did not speak, but I knew he was still awake. I did not turn, did not look at him until the broth was ready. I had grown so accustomed to my silent charge that I was nervous about facing this new, alert man.

Once the water had turned to broth, I filled a bowl and rose. He was watching me, quietly, with a look I could not quite read. There was a sense of heaviness, of weariness about him that I did not understand.

"Here, we are," I said as I sat on the side of the bed. "Breakfast is served." He tried to raise himself to a sitting position and failed with a frustrated grunt. I put the bowl of broth down on the nightstand. "Here, let me help you." I stood and hooked my elbows under his arms. "Ready, and go." He pushed feebly as I pulled him up. I rearranged the pillows under his back to prop him up as he sat there panting, a slight red tinge to his cheeks which I attributed to the sudden exertion. Once he was comfortably situated I resumed my position with the broth.

"I do hope it's not too hot," I said as I raised the spoon to his lips. He drank and coughed.

"No, no, hot is good," he managed to get out between sputters. He drank some more. "All things considered this is really quite delicious." I smiled.

"Thank you. I must say I do pride myself on my broth," I sad with a wink. He smiled.

Before long the bowl was almost completely empty. The greenish tinge had begun to fade from the sailor's face and some color had stolen its way back into his cheeks. His eyelids began to droop. I stood.

"Alright now, time for some more sleep, I believe." He nodded slowly. I placed my arm around his shoulder and lifted the pillows as he eased back onto the bed. He watched me sleepily as I smoothed the blankets and fluffed the pillows up around his head. I stood and turned to go.

"Cora?" I stopped.

"Yes, Mr. Norrington?" He snorted.

"Please, if I must call you Cora you should at least call me James." I nodded.

"Very well. What may I do for you, James?" He smiled slightly.

"Will you talk to me?" I moved back to the bedside once again.

"About what?" He shrugged weakly.

"Anything. I am tired of my own thoughts; it would be a nice change to hear someone else's."

"Alright." I sat. "My mother used to speak of a village off the coast of Cornwall where there stood a small church with the most magnificent choir. In the evenings after the service one of the choir boys would always go out and have a walk on the beach. One night he looked out to sea, where he saw a large, black rock. On the rock was a woman with long, wild hair. Glittering against the rock where her legs should have been was a silvery fish tail…"

"Cora?"

"Yes, James?"

"Thank you."