Quintspinner (19 page)

William stood still, stunned by what he was hearing.

“No, that can’t be! He was right behind me! I heard his voice telling me to go! I heard him!”

Mr. Lancaster gently shook his head. “He sacrificed himself so’s we could make it out. You an’ me. He’s gone now, gone down with the
Argus.”
A tear slowly rolled down the craggy carpenter’s face, and he brushed it brusquely away with the back of his hand. “The Gimp’s gone.”

At that moment William felt the crushing loss of everything that he had ever loved in his life. He slowly sank to his knees, bent under the weight of such sorrow, his body shuddering as he silently cried, his own tears running freely. As if sensing his grief, the little goat still tucked in his arms, timidly stretched her neck out, lifted her soft muzzle up to William’s face, and began to ever so gently lick the tears as they fell.

Crewmen from both ships worked furiously side by side, to salvage what they could of the
HMS Argus’s
remains. The heavy guns–all ten of the cannons–had been lost, along with most of the ammunition that the
Argus
had carried. The
Mary Jane’s
two jolly boats were immediately dropped over her side into the roiling waters, manned with sailors who frantically retrieved barrels, bobbing boxes, and whatever floating items they could reach with the long gaffs. It was no small relief that a few
Argus
crew members had managed to stay afloat after her sinking, and they too, were plucked from the ocean’s deadly grasp.

William saw none of this. As he squatted down by Mr. Lancaster’s side, his own grief was brought up short when his hand came to rest in a warm jellied puddle. The carpenter’s mangled foot had continued to bleed heavily onto the decking. Letting go of the goat, William sprang up and stripped off the remains of his shirt. Twisting it into a crude tourniquet, he tied it around the carpenter’s mid calf and twisted the ends into a knot.

“Help! We need the Surgeon!” he yelled, but his voice was drowned out by the continued chaos around him. William frantically scanned the deck for the Surgeon. He saw no one familiar to him but as he continued to yell for help, a large, neatly dressed man approached with purposeful strides and reaching the carpenter, quickly crouched down and examined the injury.

“Are you a surgeon?” William inquired. The man appeared to know just what and how to examine someone, as though he had done it all of his life. Mr. Lancaster groaned with the increasing pain of his wound. Ignoring William, the stranger stood and called out to two sailors who were struggling to skid a rescued trunk across the deck.

“Here! You two! Transport this man immediately to the surgical quarters! This leg must be squared off and the wound cauterized before he bleeds out! His life depends now upon your haste!” Leaving the trunk where it was, the men grabbed Mr. Lancaster and half dragged, half carried him down into the lower deck.

“Wait!” William cried out in challenge. “Where are you taking him? He needs the Surgeon!”

The stranger spun around to face William, assessing him with a disdainful glare. “
I
am a
physician,
trained in the practice and science of human medicine, and not just a
surgeon,
as you are so inclined to call the human butchers who masquerade as men of medicine aboard ships such as yours. Therefore, in the future, if you are to speak to me at all, you may address me as
Dr.
Willoughby.”

The surgical area of the
Mary Jane
was an actual room, partitioned off from the rest of the second deck and secured by a door equipped with a heavy sliding bolt. The walls were lined with shelves and with cabinets whose doors were secured shut with hooks and locks. In the middle of the small room, there was a sturdy table upon which the sailors deposited Mr. Lancaster. William pushed his way into the room on the heels of the sailors. The doctor was already choosing his surgical tools from a shelf that had been built into the wall.

“Call my daughter in to assist,” he instructed the men, “and heat the broad knife in the fire.” Without so much as looking up, he thrust a small glass vial towards William. “Mix this in with a half mug of rum from the bottle in the first cupboard, and make sure he drinks it all. Then give him this leather thong to bite down upon, if he remains of present mind for the procedure.” For the first time since William had entered into the room, the doctor looked up.

“You! By whose authority are you in here?”

Only half conscious and showing increasing signs of the extent of his blood loss, Mr. Lancaster spoke up in William’s defense. “Leave the lad be, Sir. Don’cha know that without his help I’d have lost more than me foot? ‘Course ya’ don’t.” He spoke between teeth clenched against the pain. “He’s me mate, he is.”

Glancing from his patient to William, Dr. Willoughby snorted. “Very well, if you are to stay, be useful. Administer the rum and laudanum, immediately.” William quickly poured the vial’s contents and two glugs out of the rum bottle into a battered tin mug and offered it to Mr. Lancaster.

“Ya’ won’t be lettin’ him take off more than what seems necessary, will ya’ now?” Mr. Lancaster whispered. His eyes searched William’s face. “ ‘Course ya’ won’t,” he murmured to himself as he tipped the cup back to drain the last few drops. Within minutes he closed his eyes, the powerful mixture having done its job.

“Father? You sent for me?” A young woman, her hair in a thick shank of auburn ringlets gathered loosely to one side, stood in the tiny doorway. William looked up and froze in an all-out stare. It had been weeks since he had seen a woman, let alone one of his own age group. Her eyes were as deeply green as the ocean and her pupils threatened to swallow him up in their intensity. Her eyes locked with his, as they momentarily assessed each other. Wisps of copper curls framed her face and a faint smattering of freckles splashed across her cheeks and nose. Her lips were full and pink and set in a determined line as she stared back at him. He stole only a glance at her thin figure before the doctor’s voice sliced through the air.

“Tess, you will stand to my right, please, and hand me the tools. Men,” he continued, instructing the sailors, “bind the patient’s arms to the table and hold him down should he come to. And you,” he nodded toward William, “will apply the cautery blade from the fire to the vessels to seal them as they are cut through.” And with that, he set about to work with the curved blade of the amputation knife.

Soft skin, muscles, nerves and blood vessels were severed to the bone with just a few deft slices.

“Seal that,” the doctor ordered, gesturing towards the sanguineous gush.

The smell of seared flesh in William’s nostrils brought back the horror of the fire all over again. He swallowed hard to keep his stomach steady. The young woman stood by her father, showing no signs of discomfort or disgust as the doctor placed the bloodied tools into her hands.

Peering more closely at the injured limb, the doctor peeled back the tissues to reveal the shin bones, one larger, one thin, until he had exposed a hand’s width of raw bone.

“The bone saw now, Tess.” He thrust an outstretched hand towards her and she placed it in his grasp. With a few hard rasps of its blade, the bones were cut through, and Mr. Lancaster’s lower leg and mangled foot tumbled to the floor. William’s head filled with the rushing sound of his own blood, and he leaned heavily into the table to steady himself. The young woman stood beside him, showing no sign of emotion.

Her nearness was a welcome distraction.
She is beautiful. Shapely.
He inhaled a slow breathe to clear his head. Her scent struck him like a club.
She smells so good! And –

To his horror he felt an unbidden stirring in his loins.
For Chrissakes! Settle down!
he scolded himself.
You’ll impress no one with a telltale bone in your pants! Least of all her father! Especially while he’s got a weapon in his hands that just sliced a man’s leg off!
This last truth had its desired effect on his budding erection but William leaned a few seconds longer against the table edge just to be sure.

“Seal off the last of that, and we’re nearly done,” Dr. Willoughby ordered. William grabbed the knife handle from the edge of the embers and applied the glowing blade broadside to the bleeding stump. He winced as the skin and bloodied tissues crackled and hissed.

Satisfied that the bleeding was under control, the doctor pulled the retracted tissues back down and quickly laced the skin flaps tightly together with a dozen stitches. He finished the procedure by sprinkling the end of the raw stump liberally with flour before covering it with a layer of cotton lint and a cloth dressing.

“We are done.” Dr. Willoughby looked at William. “Thoroughly cleanse these tools, and dispose of the droppings of flesh and bone.” The doctor then beckoned to his daughter. “Tess, let us wash up.”

The amputation had taken only minutes. Although the doctor’s demeanor towards William and the sailors had been aggressive, his skill level was impressive. The stump wound had not bled through so far. William checked Mr. Lancaster’s face for any signs of discomfort, but the carpenter remained unconscious, breathing in blowy, gurgling breaths. William looked up and caught the pair of deep green eyes staring at him again. A building fullness in his crotch warned him that the attraction he felt was about to rise again.
Goddamn it!
He clutched the knife in front of himself with both hands.
Why won’t she quit looking at me?

Tess? Is that what her father called her?
She continued to stare.
Probably judging me to be of a status well beneath her, just like her father did.
William returned the stare, partly in defiance and partly in open admiration of the young woman.

Holding out one hand, he motioned for her to hand over the saw and amputation knife. A look of surprise flitted across her face and was quickly replaced by a hint of a smile.
Perfect teeth behind perfect lips.
A small bolt of heat shot through his fingers as her hand momentarily grazed his. The bloodied tools clattered onto the floorboards.

“Take more care or I’ll have you whipped, boy!” Dr. Willoughby spun around at the noise.

“It was my fault, Father,” his daughter quickly interjected. “I accidentally dropped them before he had a chance to take them from me.”

William dropped down onto his knees and quickly grabbed for the tools with his left hand. Again, a soft gasp from
her.
William did not dare look up, but gripped the items tightly in his hand. He struggled to his feet, trying not to put full weight on his injured ankle which now throbbed anew. “I’ll clean up, Sir, right away.”

“What is your station?” The doctor’s voice was commanding.

“My station, Sir?”

Dr. Willoughby sighed in exasperation. “Yes, your station. What is it that you do?”

“I cooked. And I helped Mr. Lancaster there, with the boat’s repairs. And….” The doctor’s glare was withering.

“And?” the doctor asked impatiently.

“And … I entertained the men in the evenings,” William finished in a rushed breath.

The sudden silence in the room was nearly palpable.

A deep and disapproving frown on the doctor’s face and the blush in his daughter’s cheeks marked William’s poor choice of words.

“Uh, I mean, that is to say, I entertained them with my instrument!” he flustered. “I mean, I was also one of the musicians–I play the flute ….” William’s voice trailed away in embarrassment.