Chapter 3 In The Care of The British
After a few hours, the Dragoons rode through the gates of Fort Carolina with horses and rebel prisoners in tow, and one massacre survivor. Once inside, Captain James Wilkins rode as near as he could to the hospital tent looking for someone nearby to hand Miss Prescott's limp body to. He observed that Major Bordon was on the ground having dismounted already and signaled for him. Wilkins then handed Melanie's near lifeless body down to his superior.
Bordon took the young lady securely in his arms and carried her quickly into the hospital tent. Once inside, he laid the girl down on the first open table he saw, then looked for a doctor. Tavington soon caught up to him and, together, they found a surgeon and explained what had happened to her as he looked the girl over assessing her injuries.
Soon, the doctor excused himself, having soldiers with worse injuries to tend to. So, Bordon and Tavington, deeming her in good hands now, left her side and made their way out of the tent.
At the door, the men realized they had forgotten to ask the doctor to refrain from telling Miss Prescott anything about her family's unfortunate demise should she regain coherency. Both commanders needed to apprise Lord Cornwallis of the situation first and leave the decision of disclosure about the massacre to him.
Colonel Tavington and Major Bordon turned on their heels and headed quickly back to the table where they'd left Miss Prescott. They had hoped to find the doctor back with her. Instead, they found several less hurt soldiers congregating near her, ogling her with wolves' eyes. They were as vultures, circling the table getting ready to swoop down on the helpless girl.
The two officers were alarmed at what they saw and bounded to her side to protect the valuable captive. Tavington and Bordon looked at each other with wide eyes, each thinking that this young woman could not be adequately protected from the woman hungry soldiers in the tents.
"The house!" exclaimed Tavington, knowing it would be safer for her in there than in the surgery tent.
"Yes!" Bordon agreed with a nod of his head.
With that, ColonelTavington scooped Miss Prescott up into his arms. The two officers then whisked her away into the main house of the fort.
Once inside, Tavington carried her up the stairs to the officer's quarters, with Bordon following close behind. He took her straight to his room and laid her down in his bed.
"She will be safe in here," remarked William, as he adjusted the bed sheets around her.
"Yes," Bordon agreed. "I'll notify the doctor that she has been moved."
Bordon marched to the door , but turned on his heel when Tavington called his name.
"Bordon, it seems I will have to bunk with you for awhile," Tavington said, rather apologetically.
"Yes, sir," Alex conceded. He walked through the door and made a sour face at the thought of losing the well earned privacy of his bachelor's chambers. Privacy was the one commodity that was in high demand with a very low supply.
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Shortly after Melanie had been placed in Tavington's room, a surgeon was summoned. Fortunately, there was now a lull in the activity in the hospital tent, so a doctor came with a medic right away.
While the medical officers were on their way up, Tavington and Bordon briefed Generals Cornwallis and O'Hara of the situation. The four officers were in the room pondering the circumstances when the doctor and his assistant arrived. Cornwallis quickly left orders with the surgeon, then exited with O'Hara.
A heavy table had been brought in and Miss Prescott's near lifeless form was laid upon it. The officers were sent from the room while the surgeon and medic tried to work a miracle.
Her clothes were removed and the surgeon looked at the damage. He shook his head and said to his assistant, "God, this woman's in bad shape."
"Not worth saving?," asked the medic.
"No, but we have orders from the Lord General to make every effort."
"She must be someone very important to him," the assistant commented.
"Probably his bastard child," quipped the doctor in a lowered voice.
"Or his mistress," the medic jokingly added.
Then, the surgeon suddenly stiffened and looked around the room. His demeanor went back to serious.
"We should remember ourselves," he reminded, then he lowered his voice to a whisper and added, "for the walls have ears."
The two knew that everything that was said in or around the fort eventually made its way back to Major Bordon. As intelligence officer, Bordon had a wellspring of resources at his fingertips. In just the short time he'd been in the Carolinas he established a network that he thought was still not adequate satisfied with it, but the size was impressive nonetheless.
Bordon was a master at getting the answers and had various methods of pulling information from generals and prisoners alike. Nothing was out of bounds. Alex would manipulate, threaten, coax sweetly, offer bargains and bribes, and had stooped as low as seducing the female prisoners. It was even rumored that he would torture ruthlessly if need be, but that was only a rumor.
Everyone knew that the Major had 'stool pigeons' within the fort that sang like trained canaries for him. Some of these snitches were known, while others remained anonymous, their identities lingering in the shadows. Dwellers at the fort often marveled at how the most secret things ended up finding their way to Bordon.
Knowing all this, the medic and doctor soon hushed up, lest they be heard, and began to work on their patient. They cleaned and stitched up the various stab and slice wounds, which were numerous. Both men could tell from the many, haphazard wounds, that her attacker had stabbed crazily in haste and at random, as if he was in a hurry to do the deed.
There were about ten wounds in all. The worst was the deep stab wound to her left side, which had caused damage, but had luckily missed the vital organs. The doctor was also worried about the stab to her right side. Fortunately, it did not penetrate as deep as the other, but the knife had been shoved in with just enough force to crack one of the girl's ribs, which made her labor for breath. There were some superficial stab and slice wounds, as well as some medium deep wounds about her shoulders, thigh, abdomen, and forearm.
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As the evening wore on, Cornwallis met with his staff of officers over dinner, again discussing the subject of Miss Prescott. He informed the men that he had assigned a woman, who was an indentured servant and served in the house, to attend to their new guest. This woman had experience with the wounded as she had helped out in the hospital tents.
It was nearly 10:00pm when the medical officers were finished repairing Melanie. Cornwallis was notified, as was General O'Hara, Major Bordon, and Colonel Tavington.
The officers gathered at her bedside where she was unconscious still, and talked with the surgeon.
"She is very weak and has lost a lot of blood," the doctor stated. "She also has a fever. We need to watch her closely for infection."
"Is she going to live?" asked Cornwallis anxiously.
The surgeon sighed as he packed away the last of his instruments. "To be honest, I can not say, Sir,", he answered.
"Alright. Thank you for your efforts," replied General Cornwallis. He then dismissed the medical officers.
The four officers stood quietly for a moment, looking at the silent girl. Cornwallis broke the silence. "Appalling that the rebels killed the most the whole family," he remarked.
The men nodded in agreement. Cornwallis continued. "Well, let's hope that she survives so that a part of that gracious and honorable family will live on."
Then, the Lord General turned dark and mused aloud, as if no one else was present. "If she survives, I should like to flaunt her before the faces of those rebel bastards just to spite them. I'd like to show them that they failed at the job they set out to do."
The three other officers were taken aback at their commander's candor. He never let down like this, priding himself on professionalism and propriety. Cornwallis was always the utmost proper general, adhering to decorum, and displaying the traits of a prim aristocrat.
General Cornwallis went on, still as if talking to himself, focusing down on the forlorn figure of the pacifist's daughter. "I'd like them to see that they did not wipe out totally a decent family, and, if caught, they will pay dearly for what they have done!"
On his way out, Lord Cornwallis had a cot moved into Colonel Tavington's room to accommodate Miss Prescott's nurse. Bridgett Kilpatrick, a young Irish woman and indentured servant, was given the task of attending to Melanie. She moved into the room that evening and began taking care of the ailing girl.
Also in Tavington's room, along with the new tenants and cot, his massive desk was left there as there was no room for it in Bordon's quarters. The Major's lodging was even smaller in size than his commander's. Alex's room was now crowded with his small desk and bed, and Tavington's "officer's" cot, which was a bit larger and roomier than the standard "soldier's" cot. This left just enough room to walk and change clothes. He joked that the room had become so small due to crowding within it that one had to step outside the door to change his mind!
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The next few weeks of Melanie Prescott's young life were precarious. She ran fevers that broke, only to spike again later. Infection was always a threat with the medics barely staying one step ahead of it. She did not move much except to thrash about occasionally on the bed. The poor girl was in constant pain save for the merciful respites of sound sleep.
Melanie's mental and emotional state were nonexistent. She was unconscious most of the time, and when she was conscious, she was incoherent. She did not respond to anyone and was unable to make any kind of contact or communication. The doctor had predicted that she would not be coherent for awhile, and may not even remember anything of her ordeal or convalescence. She was sometimes delirious, calling out or muttering incomprehensibly at the height of her fevers. The young lady cried pitifully a good deal of the time.
On occasion, Miss Prescott was given Laudanum for her pain—when there was some to spare. Most often, she went without the precious substance as it was saved for the soldiers first, and seemingly was always in demand and short supply. As a last resort, Bridgett had taken to lacing some tea, or even a wet rag, with Valerian or alcohol to try and ease her suffering, but usually, she could not drink enough of this to help, or couldn't keep down what she ingested. More often than not, the kindness and compassion of Bridgett and the officers giving her comfort was the only relief she had from the pain.
Bridgett attended Melanie night and day. The young woman was kept alive on broth, water, and tea force fed to her, usually with someone holding her up while the servant delicately spoon fed her. The patient remained weak and lost some weight.
Sometimes the officers would take turns sitting with the young lady when they had a free moment. Or they'd do their paperwork at Tavington's large desk in the room. These small courtesies were extended to give Bridgett a break, and also for the officers to monitor the progress and welfare of this most valued new guest to the fort that Lord Cornwallis had charged them with looking after and protecting.
On one of the night, Banastre Tarleton took his mail into William's room to read it at Melanie's bedside, so that Bridgett could have a quiet meal without having to attend to a patient in the middle of it. He intermittently read and looked at Miss Prescott.
She looked just as pitiful as always and her pallor was as white as a ghost. She began, muttering and crying. "Jonathon...Josie...be…careful!...oh,…..bring…help!..Children, please!...Jon...Jo...watch...hide...care...God...no." Her voice trailed off again.
Tarleton, feeling sympathy for the poor girl, put his letters down and took her hand. He tried to comfort her.
"There, there. Calm down. Stay quiet and still and it will help you relax. That will help with your pain." He stroked a lock of her blonde hair back from her face.
About this time, Bridgett returned on the arm of Captain Wilkins. She had asked him to assist her while feeding Miss Prescott. She would need him to help hold her up. She thanked Colonel Tarleton for his time and released him.
Tarleton gathered his letters and relinquished his spot next to the bed to allow the couple room to feed the patient. As he was walking from the room, he stopped and turned back. Wilkins already had Melanie propped up as Bridgett was stirring the broth.
"Wilkins, were Josie and Jonathon of the Prescott family?" he asked.
"Why," queried Wilkins.
"Oh, because she was calling for them a moment ago," stated Ban.
" Yes. They are—were her younger siblings," Wilkins replied. "They were 13 and 10."
"Oh," Banastre answered quietly as he shook his head. He thought that she must have cared deeply for them. She would have to deal with the shock of their deaths, if she recovered. He felt very sorry for her.
On another occasion, when Tarleton was out on patrol, William Tavington stopped to look in on Miss Prescott. He found Bordon, who's paperwork had been interrupted, away from the desk and sitting at her bedside. He held one of the girl's hands and talked soothingly to her as she thrashed about. He wiped her brow with a cool rag as she cried in pain.
Earlier, a desperate Alexander had wanted to take the girl into his arms, carry her and walk the floor with her as if trying to soothe a crying child. He didn't dare lift her in fear of aggravating her fragile wounds any further.
Will, knowing that Laudanum had not been spared to her, lost his temper. "If she is so valuable, then why don't they give her painkiller?"
"Soldier's come first," Bordon said in a tired voice. He was still trying to comfort the ailing girl.
"This is ridiculous!," exclaimed the Colonel. "They must have the means to make the poor girl more comfortable. I'm going to try and find something for her." With that, he turned and headed out of the room.
"Good luck," retorted Alex. The Major went on attending to Miss Prescott. "It's alright, Miss. We're trying to get you something for the pain." Melanie went on, whimpering and writhing in agony.
Alex sighed as he tried to hold her still, fearing she would weaken herself even further. He gazed upon her silently and wondered what she was like before this tragic event. He thought she was a pretty girl—even amidst the ugliness of suffering and pain.
In another moment, Tavington entered the room dragging a medic forcibly by the arm. The poor soldier was harried and confused. He was holding a vial of Laudanum and looking back and forth from the officers to the patient on the bed.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" Tavington asked in an irritated voice. "There's your patient. Give her the drug!" He then pointed to Melanie on the bed.
The young medic recoiled immediately. "No sir! This is for the soldiers."
"You dare disobey me?" Tavington growled. "That was an order!"
"But sir," the soldier began to protest, "My superior's orders were that the Crown's soldiers are the utmost priority. All others are of last thought."
William lost his temper with the medic, caring only to fulfill his orders from Lord Cornwallis of seeing to and protecting this valued prisoner. He drew his pistol from his belt, aimed it squarely at the medical officer and pulled back the hammer. The silence in the room from both a stunned Bordon and alarmed medic made the gun cock sound like a tiny yet formidable explosion.
" Well now your orders have changed. Private, give it to her now," William implored. "I will take responsibility for it!"
The frightened young man went quickly to the bed and administered the painkiller to Miss Prescott. Within a moment, the girl became quiet and seemed to drift into a comfortable sleep. Tavington and Bordon exchanged looks, wondering how long they would have to throw their authority around to get things for this patient.
"Bravo colonel," Bordon cheered after the scared medic exited.
"We'll see which orders are the most important around here," Tavington sneered, disgusted that he had to resort to intimidation of one of his own countrymen to get the desired results.
It was only a short while before the medical staff had warned each other about being "strong armed" into giving precious Laudanum to Miss Prescott. They were now prepared to stand firm against the dragoons on the issue. So soon the officers lost their power to order the medics to give Melanie the drug. Bordon tried to remedy this himself, as Miss Prescott was always moaning and sobbing with pain.
The major visited a nearby Cherokee tribe that helped him out from time to time with information. Telling the tribal medicine man of Melanie's symptoms and situation, he was sent on his way with a few different bags of herbs. They were to fight infection, ease the pain, give her a restful sleep, and to help her regain strength.
Alexander gave instructions about the drugs to Bridgett. She mixed the herbs into Melanie's broth and tea, creating a healing Indian remedy for the young woman. Along with that, the medicine man had agreed with the former treatment of Valerian and alcohol and advised the woman to supplement his remedy with it.
After only a few days of the herbal mixture, Bridgett and all the officers, and even the doctor, noticed small improvements in Miss Prescott's once grave condition. However, the pain would sometimes breakthrough. The herbal potion was just enough to take the edge off of it, not totally quelling it the way a good dose of Laudanum would do.
During one of these particularly painful episodes, Colonel Tavington just happened to be sitting with Melanie. She was writhing and groaning with tears streaming down her face. Tavington dabbed a cool cloth on her neck, upper chest, arms, cheeks and forehead—any exposed skin—to try to cool her down and break the fever. Will tried to get her to lay still, her thrashing just making the pain worse. He caressed her cheeks gently with his fingers and laid his hand upon her forehead in attempts to calm her.
The young woman began to cry pitifully and called out in delirium. "Father...Mother...Mama...Father?"
Tavington hated to see this pretty young girl in pain. He took her hand and spoke to her.
"Shhhhh. It's alright," he said quietly.
"Father?" she called again.
William sighed helplessly, then answered her. "Yes darling, it's Father." He lied, wanting badly to comfort the poor girl.
"Father?"
"Yes, it's alright. I'm here with you," he replied in concern. He sat forward and studied her face as worry crossed his own. He was afraid she was close to death now.
"Father, please stay here," she begged. Her eyes were closed and it was plain that she still was not coherent and had no idea where she was. "Don't leave me."
"I won't," he assured. Will then put his hand on her head and hair and stroked her forehead sweetly with his thumb.
"Where's Mother," asked Melanie. "I want Mother."
"Um...she went into the village to purchase medicine for you," he lied. William was now beside himself, not knowing if he should call for the surgeon. What good could he do if she was indeed dying.
"I want my mother," she wept sorrowfully. Her cheeks were wet with her tears.
"I know, darling," he soothed. "She's bringing something for you. She'll be back soon."
"Oh,Father, it hurts!" The young woman sobbed harder now. Tavington caressed her hand and stroked her cheek, unable to stay ahead of the tears Melanie cried now.
"Yes, dear, but you must be brave," he urged her softly.
She moaned painfully as her head rolled from side to side on her pillow. Melanie raised her arms to her head as if shielding herself from something. William gently pulled them back down as she weakly fought him. Then, he stroked and smoothed her hair back.
"Shhhh. You will have medicine to help with the pain," he encouraged her. "Until then, have courage."
"Help me Father, please," she pleaded in delirium. "It hurts so much."
A very worried William leaned over her. He pulled the covers up around her as she began to shiver with a chill.
He whispered to her. "Yes, I know it does. Try to go to sleep then it won't hurt as much. I'll stay here with you."
Will put his hand on her head again and stroked her hair back and caressed her cheeks, trying to comfort her and ease the pain. He hoped this soothing action would lull her to sleep.
After a few moments, she sniffled, then drifted into a slumber. William stayed quietly by her side. He gazed at her. He thought she was beautiful, even with her pallor as white as a ghost and her blonde hair matted in sweat to her head.
The colonel wondered about her: what she was like, her loves, her dislikes, her feelings. He had become infatuated with this girl who barely survived a brutal massacre.
After more time passed, William wrung out the rag and folded it into a compress to put on her hot skin. But, before he could place the cloth on her forehead, he couldn't resist doing something.
William Tavington pressed his lips softly to her forehead, then her cheek, and kissed her gently and innocently. He watched as her breathing dropped into a steady rhythm. She was out of pain again, at least for now.