Looking around us, everything seemed dismal. Burned buildings and crops, death and near-death, screaming in the distance. It seemed the mission had already fallen.
Everyone but Eliza stood, bowing their heads in grief and taking off their hats with respect for their captain.
I lay there, watching the crew take care of Captain Whitmore’s body about ten yards from me. They built a makeshift gurney for their captain, and when they placed him on it, Eliza knelt beside him and couldn’t seem to let go of his hand.
I noticed then that Captain Corsaire’s body was lying on the ground unmoving and untouched. What would happen to the piratesnow, without their captain? Surely they would call a ceasefire. I could still hear battling continue around us. It could end now, couldn’t it?
The crew made a second gurney and put the pirate captain on it. It seemed they had formed a plan.
“Nate, care for the captain’s body. We have to stop this battle,” Graham said to Mr. Ward before going to join the crew. The look on Eliza’s face was fierce and determined as she stood and took hold of one corner of the pirate captain’s gurney, as if all grief had been replaced by purpose. Graham stood beside her, saying something that made her glance his way, and they all left together.
After a while, I noticed the sounds of fighting had stopped, replaced by a strange, eerie silence. It grew dark. We waited, and I quietly worried that a new fight would break out and we would all end up dying after surviving so much.
Patrice had joined us, saying there were no more wounded nearby and since it was getting dark, they couldn’t find anyone else. At some point, I fell asleep and had no idea what happened around me until morning.
Chapter 31
Smokefilledtheairand I almost choked on it before waking. I sat up slowly and found Mr. Ashby and Patrice sleeping beside me. I touched their shoulders to wake them. It was dark, though we could see the sun through the smoke, its yellow light only barely shining through.
“We need to get everyone out of this smoke,” Mr. Ward called to us. “It will make them ill.”
It took time, but we all moved to the big house. Thankfully, the fire had not reached the main part of the house. Only a section of the porch was missing. Someone must have stopped the flames before they were out of control. Patrice helped me sit inside, while Mr. Ashby aided a man with a bandaged head. They both went back outside and continually brought people in one at a time as Mr. Ward surveyed the people he’d helped during the battle. Most of them were awake and able to move around. Some of them, however, seemed near death.
“Let’s get ye to yer room,” Patrice said to me.
I placed a hand on hers, then got Mr. Ward’s attention. “Shouldn’t we bring the badly wounded to beds instead? I will be all right on the floor.”
He shook his head. “We have plenty of other beds, and we’ll bring in cots from the mission. No need to sacrifice yours.” He motioned to Mr. Ashby and Patrice to take me upstairs before moving on.
“Come on,” Mr. Ashby said as he pulled me to my feet. I admitted to myself that it would be nice to stay put for a while. We made it upstairs, slowly but surely. My room seemed mostly untouched; only the table and chairs had been broken. The pirates had left their mark on every room. But my bed was just as it had been. I lay down and sank into its softness.
“Will you find Graham?” I asked Patrice. She nodded. “That is, after you help the other wounded.”
“Will ye be all right by yourself, Miss?”
“I’ll be fine; I’ll just sleep. Go.” I shooed her out the door. I looked at Mr. Ashby, who watched me wearily. “You, too. They need help.”
He finally agreed, though hesitantly. I sighed with relief. I didn’t want to be the reason he wasn’t helping those in need.
“I’ll be back soon,” he said. I waved a hand to show him I was fine.
As soon as they left, I clutched my wound and groaned. My pain had increased after moving around so much, and it took effort to hide it. But the pain was expected, considering I’d been shot. They couldn’t do anything sitting beside me, anyway. Exhaustion poured through me, and I felt completely drained. As soon as I closed my eyes, I fell into a fitful sleep.
I couldn’t seem to wake completely. I felt as if I were drowning in an unknown sea. I barely remembered anything except for hands touchingmine and cold compresses on my head. My wound kept pulsing and aching, and I felt nauseated. At times I felt freezing, then blisteringly hot. And at some point, when I was more awake, Mr. Ward came in and announced, “She has a fever.”
That explains why I feel so dreadful.I couldn’t speak. I heard him explain how to lower my fever and stop the sepsis, but could not concentrate on it. As people took care of me, I noticed when it was dark or light outside, and it occurred to me vaguely that days must be passing. When I awoke, I saw Patrice’s red hair on the bed next to me. She was asleep.
The sun was streaming through the window, and I wondered how she could sleep in broad daylight like this. I shielded my eyes. My movement woke her and she sat up, then stood at seeing me awake.
“Yer alive!” she announced.
“I am?” I said groggily.
“Yer fever had ye out for nearly a week.”
“That’s a long time.” My voice didn’t sound like me. I cleared my throat.
She fiddled with my covers, my pillow, touched my forehead, and finally smiled at me. “I think yer through the worst of it.”
