Authors: Leen Elle
Lying like a corpse on the bed, Nathaniel's body was barely more than skin and bones. The scant amount of muscle he had formerly beheld had diminished into nothing, leaving him far too weak to raise a cup of tea to his mouth or even lift his head off the pillow. His face, blank and colorless, was detailed only by the dark shadows beneath his eyes and the nest of light brown hair atop his head. As Gail read, he stared at the ceiling motionless. One couldn't distinguish whether or not he was truly listening to her or whether he even cared that she was there. The task was impossible when he rarely spoke.
"
But the raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only
That
one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered; not a feather then he fluttered
;
Till I scarcely more than muttered, 'Other friends have flown before;
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, 'Nevermore.'"
It was a terrible day. While reading, Gail would glance up to the porthole on the wall of Nathaniel's room. The wind blew furiously, whistling past the glass and blowing the ocean's spray against the ship. Although it was only midmorning, the sky had already grown so dark one might have assumed it were night. The clouds above, the color of charcoal, blocked any sunlight from view and threatened of a downpour at any moment.
Gail adored the rain, but she wished it wouldn't have arrived at such an inopportune time. When Nathaniel was standing on a brink and the end was so near, Gail had hoped the sun might come out. Although she normally thought herself to be more rational than superstitious, a sunny day might have helped to raise Nathaniel's spirits. It might have lifted his strength, even the tiniest bit.
But rain only signified a dreary ending to a dreary existence. It was never welcomed by the friend of an ailing invalid.
"
Thus I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl, whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er
She shall press, ah, nevermore!"
Nathaniel began to cough violently just as the first drops of rain fell upon the porthole. Gail shuddered. She stepped forward and brushed the hair out of his eyes before spooning him a tablespoon of his medicine, a syrupy brown liquid.
Thunder clashed, shattering the sky into a million drumbeats, and was followed shortly by a flash of lightning that lit up the room. The rain grew harder, pounding against the ship, and Nathaniel turned his head ever so slightly to gaze out at it. Before returning to her seat, Gail wet a washrag and placed it upon his perspiring forehead.
He didn't, couldn't, thank her.
And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door
;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming.
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor
;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted-nevermore!
As she finished the poem, Gail set the book down beside her and pulled her knees up close to her chest, setting her head in the center. The rhythm of the rain beating against the glass of the porthole made for a soothing song.
Gail listening to it silently whilst gazing at Nathaniel.
He'd let the rag fall forward onto his face so that it now covered his eyes rather than his forehead.
His hand, looking nearly as stark white as the sheets it lied upon, was trembling though the room was both stuffy and hot. Gail watched it, jostling around as though it were a fish out of water. Biting her lip, she leaned forward suddenly and grabbed it. With both hands, she held it. Although enclosed now, it continued to shake with the same, if not more, vivacity as before.
Nathaniel still lied motionless, apparently either unaware that she now held his hand or unable to remove the
washrag from his eyes and show
her that he knew.
The room shook as another crash of thunder sounded in the distance, this time closer than the last. Gail jumped when she heard it, squeezing Nathaniel's hand and then holding it up to her cheek. Her warm skin was cooled by the icy chill of his hand. The thunder was followed shortly by a flash of lightning and a fierce wind blowing against the ship.
"Oh Nathaniel," Gail whispered with a weak smile, her voice barely audible, "Whenever will you be well again?"
As was expected, the invalid didn't answer. He lay still beneath his covers and his washrag.
As the storm quieted down for a moment, Gail felt his hand cease its constant movement. She, ever so slowly, raised it off her cheek and lifted it to her lips, kissing the back of his hand. Still, he didn't move.
Gail was about to lay her head down upon the bed, to rest for a moment, when the door opened and Emy entered.
"How is he?" Emy said softly, "How, er . . . How is Mr. West?"
Gail, setting down Nathaniel's hand, looked up slowly, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes, "I don't know. I-I never seem to know anymore."
"Has he been saying much? Is there anything he wants?"
"He really doesn't talk much," gulped Gail, "He just lies there silently . . . I've never seen such a pitiful sight."
"Well," Emy explained, "I was told to come down here by Charlie. He wishes to speak with you in his office . . . alone. I promised to stay with Nathaniel while you were gone just in case anything . . . in case anything should happen to him."
Gail slid her legs out from beneath her and scratched her head, looking around the room.
"Do you remember where all his medicines are?" she asked Emy, "And that he doesn't like his tea very hot? And do you know what to do if begins to shake?"
"I remember," Emy promised, "So you needn't worry, as I know you want to. It's alright. I know you don't want to leave him but I promise I'll make a suitable nurse while you're gone."
Gail forced a nod, though it was apparent she truly didn't want to leave Nathaniel's side. If the end should come while she was gone, she'd regret the moment for the rest of her life and she knew it. But nevertheless, she left the room and trudged up the stairs to the ship's deck. Then, after holding her sweater above her head to ward off the rain, she ran into the office.
Charlie was pacing the floor, as he so often seemed to do these days. As she Gail entered, he looked up and gave her a short nod of recognition, "Gail."
Gail nodded in return, "Charlie."
The poor man appeared rather flustered, scratching his head and fidgeting with the collar of his shirt. He motioned towards the shabby couch in the corner, "You can sit down, if you like. I've just . . . I've got something that I need to speak with you about."
"Of course."
Gail walked across the room and sat down upon the sofa, setting her hands down beneath her thighs.
After pacing the room a bit more, Charlie stopped in front of Gail, his hands in his pockets.
"
Your
. . . Your friend Nathaniel is very, very ill, as I'm sure you don't need reminding," he began, "For you've seen the condition of his ailment more than anyone else on board. At the start of this journey, his health was bad, yes, but that was nothing compared to now. He's . . . He's barely alive, lying on his deathbed, struggling for every breath. You've done all that you can, Gail, and I know that. Doing whatever he asks . . . sitting with him through both day and night . . . giving him his medicine. He couldn't ask for any more of you, I'm sure. And both he and I thank you for that. But there's only so much we can do. You're only a fifteen year old girl, Gail . . . And
I,
I'm only an old ship captain. We're not doctors and we, although we've done all we can, do not know exactly what's best for Nathaniel right now. He needs professional help if he . . . if he wants a chance to . . . to . . ." Charlie opened his mouth as if to say more, but the words wouldn't come. He scratched his head and looked at Gail and they both knew what he had meant to say. Words needn't be spoken.
With a gulp, Charlie continued, "I'd planned to take Nathaniel to Wickensville . . . But now, looking at my map, and with the delay of this storm, I don't think that'll be possible if we don't want him to get any worse. It would take at least three more days, I believe, if not more. And I don't want to risk another moment. I've already instructed Sawyer to steer us in another direction and he's doing so at this very instant. We're heading to St. Francis County. It's not where we meant to bring Nathaniel, but he has a better chance if we get him to a doctor as quickly as possible."
"How soon will we arrive?"
"By mid-afternoon, I hope."
"And you're sure they have a suitable hospital there?"
Charlie nodded, "I'm positive."
*****
"Have you got his legs, Murphy?"
"Yes."
"Alright then, let's move him onto the stretcher in one, two,
three
!"
Three hospital aides, shouting to be heard above the rage of the storm, lifted Nathaniel's body, so weak it barely weighed anything, onto a canvas stretcher held by two other men. The invalid's eyes fluttered open and closed. One couldn't really determine whether he knew what was going on.
"Wait! Wait! He's shaking! Let me get the blankets!" Charlie pulled the quilts off of Nathaniel's bed and laid them onto his body, "He'll catch pneumonia if you let him get too wet!"
"We've got umbrellas, Mr. Wilkie!" replied one of the hospital aides, "You needn't worry!"
"Let's head up the stairs! But keep it steady!"
"Have you got him covered?"
"Lift up the back of the stretcher, Rick!"
"Have you got all his medicines?"
"It's pouring out there!"
"I've got'em in the box!"
"Let's head out!"
Amidst a chaos of orders and screams, the hospital aides moved Nathaniel slowly upstairs. Their boots clanked up the wooden boards and their shouts echoed against the walls, challenging the clash of the thunder outside. With their heads bowed against the rain, they headed up on deck. Two doctors, dressed in white trench coats, rushed forward with black umbrellas. They held them over Nathaniel, protecting him from most of the rain.
Nearby, Mary, Sara, Nora, Emy, and Gail stood shivering, drenched from head to toe. Gail stepped forward as soon as she saw them emerge, trying to catch sight of Nathaniel in the mess of hospital aides, doctors, umbrellas, and blankets.
Lightning flashed and Gail felt herself pulled to the side by a pair of hands upon her shoulders. It was Charlie. He wore no hat and locks of light brown and gray hair lay against his forehead, soaked.
"How's he doing?" Gail shouted, pleading to Charlie.
Charlie shook his head sadly, "I don't know!"
The sailors, standing silently behind the women, gave a salute as the stretcher began to move off the ship, down the ramp towards shore. The girls waved, though they knew Nathaniel couldn't see them, and wished him well.