by Kate Eastham
On reaching the sick bay, Rose was surprised to find that the sheet on the girl’s bed was thrown back, her clothes and the red shawl were gone and the girl was nowhere to be found. Too tired to worry, she stood for a few seconds and silently queried what might have happened. Not able to find a ready answer, she straightened the still-clean sheet and pillow and went, as instructed, to find her own rest.
11
‘Apprehension, uncertainty, waiting, expectation, fear of surprise, do a patient more harm than any exertion.’
Florence Nightingale
When Ada had woken, fuzzy-headed and still anxious about how close she was to those guns, she was unsure about what she should do but thought that getting up and dressed might be a good start. She had just clipped back her hair with the combs that had been left under the pillow by some thoughtful person, when a friendly face she vaguely remembered from the night before appeared at the door. It was the man who had carried her into the hospital.
‘Hello there, miss, my name’s Tom Dunderdale, medical orderly,’ said the broad, clean-shaven face. ‘Would you be free to help me collect more stores this morning? There’ll be some breakfast in the bargain.’
‘I’m Ada, Ada Houston, but maybe I’d …’ She hesitated, not sure what plans Miss Nightingale’s nurse, that Sister Mary Roberts, might have for her.
Seeing her hesitate, Tom said, ‘That’s all right, Ada, don’t worry about Sister Roberts, she’s too busy to come and find you at present but she would be more than happy for you to be helping out with the stores – they didn’t all come up yesterday and we’re running short on some food.’
‘All right then,’ said Ada, grinning as she slipped off the bed and finding, to her great relief, that at last her legs seemed to be working properly.
She followed Tom out of the hospital to a wagon that was waiting out front. He tried to help her up on to the seat but she made it clear that she could easily spring up there by herself. Settling herself on the seat as Tom checked the harness, she looked down and recognized the skinny back of the brown horse that had pulled the cart yesterday.
The wagon lurched as Tom bounced up into his seat and Ada grabbed the side to steady herself. He laughed and told her to hold on, then introduced the horse as Prince, laughing again when Ada gave him a quizzical glance. ‘Not any more, but he was once, like the rest of us.’
As Tom flicked the reins Ada noticed that his large brown hands were covered in scars, although clean with carefully trimmed nails. She glanced down at her own hands, still grubby from housework with dirt ingrained around the nails. It would take some scrubbing to get rid of those stains.
‘Hold tight,’ he said. ‘The road is rough.’ As the wagon rumbled off, he twisted round in his seat to grab a large bonnet from the back and handed it to her, adding, ‘We don’t want to make that nose and those cheeks of yours any redder, do we now? Or risk you fainting away again. Then I would be in trouble with Sister Mary Roberts.’
Ada was surprised to feel so calm sat up there, small and friendly beside the hulking frame of Tom Dunderdale, like she had always known this person. Rocking and rolling along the rough track, she noted the barren landscape around her and the dryness of the ground as the wheels of the cart brought up dust. This alien landscape of stubby vegetation, so far removed from the streets of Liverpool, did not worry her at all while she sat with Tom.
As they approached the sparse town that she could barely recollect from the day before, Ada noticed the many ruined buildings. Tom saw her looking around and explained that this was the result of the great November storm last year and, of course, the famous Battle of Balaklava. As she stared at the piles of shot and shells by the side of the road Tom shook his head and with a hint of sadness in his voice said, ‘Look at the state of it. Nobody has time to clean anything up.’
Lost for a moment in their thoughts both Ada and Tom were caught off-guard by the sudden noise of a horse and soldier hurtling at full speed towards them, whipping past the wagon so close that Ada could have touched the man’s leather riding boot. Prince was, fortunately, only mildly startled and had calmly brought the wagon to a halt in plenty of time.
‘Bloody idiot!’ shouted Tom after him. ‘You could have had us over.’ Then by way of explanation, as he seemed to be at pains to make sense of this strange world for Ada, he told her that the rider carried despatches, giving the soldiers at the front their orders, ‘God ’elp ’em.’
Prince automatically walked on, showing no concern about a cloud of dust and a loud rumbling and grating noise further down the road. Ada looked at Tom for reassurance but she could tell that he too was trying to make out just what was going on. He didn’t seem perturbed and showed no sign of pulling Prince to a halt. As they got closer the heavy dust began to clear and they could make out a team of what looked like bullocks being driven by a group of men wearing brightly coloured cloths of red, white and blue around their heads. The dust got in Ada’s eyes and she held the red shawl over her nose and mouth as they went by, but she could make out that these men with bowed heads were heaving and pushing a large cannon.
She looked over at Tom, who answered her questioning look. ‘They’re moving the cannon now, while the weather is dry, because once that road up to Sevastopol gets a bit of rain on it the mud is so thick and claggy you can’t get anything through.’ Tom raised a hand to the men as they passed by and shouted to her, ‘These Turks are good strong men and used to moving tackle but even they’d struggle in that mud.’
When they were clear of the cannon and moving into quieter territory he continued their conversation. ‘The thing is, the army has a train now that could take things up to the camp but, for some reason, the people in charge here make those Turkish soldiers do things that don’t make any sense at all.’
As they moved in close to the low walls of the harbour, Ada sat pondering on the strangeness of this world that she had found herself in. Her reverie was almost immediately shattered by a cart that suddenly shot out of a side street in front of them. They both jumped up out of their seats at the sight of it; though small, it was moving fast and loaded with bread. Catching a glimpse of the driver’s futile attempt to pull up, they both knew that they were lucky to avoid yet another collision. The driver glanced back quickly, then shot off even faster, losing one or two loaves on to the dusty road as he bounced away. Tom and Ada stared at each other with their eyes wide. Tom did not call out this time but simply remarked in his dour way, ‘You take your life in your bloody hands just getting a loaf of bread round ’ere.’
Ada looked back over her shoulder to see two big dogs, with ribs showing through their rough fur and tails as thin as whips, shoot out from a derelict building, grab the loaves, and run.
There was no time to settle back into her seat because they were drawing up by a low building. Tom jumped down and hitched Prince to a rail, saying, ‘That’ll stop him firing off into the distance after some young filly.’ Then, looking up at Ada, he gestured for her to follow him. Climbing down, she brushed the dust off her skirt as best she could and quickly shook her trusty shawl, before following along behind Tom. As she walked she became aware of the sickly, rotting smell that had greeted her on arrival yesterday and glimpsed through a gap in the buildings pile upon pile of junk and railway sleepers. The place was black with flies and she saw what looked like a moving mound of them, only to realize that this was the abandoned carcass of some dead animal. She felt her empty stomach turn as a wave of nausea swept over her.
Entering the low building, Ada was unable to see at first in the dark interior. When her eyes adjusted she could see a strongly built woman with a pockmarked face behind a makeshift counter. On the other side was a man with muscled arms and a bright red beard, who leered at Ada as he stood swaying with a bottle of ale in his hand.
‘Sorry, miss,’ said Tom apologetically. ‘This ’ere’s one of the navvies who were brought in to build the railway up to Sevastopol, and, as you can see, they like their beer.’
‘No need to worry on my account,’ declared Ada as she stared back at the navvy with an even gaze. She’d had her fill of dealing with drunken men back in Liverpool and knew that she could hold her own. She knew that if he decided to make a move she’d have him good and proper. The big man could not match Ada’s gaze and quickly looked away. Then, bidding farewell to the strange proprietress behind the counter, he went on his way, staggering foolishly and grabbing the door frame as he ducked to get through the low door on his way out.
As soon as he was gone the big woman behind the counter seemed to relax. Leaning forward, grinning at Ada, she handed Tom a tankard of beer and pushed over a big slice of bread, thick with butter, and a large mug of tea for Ada.
‘Thanks, Ruby … This is Ada, just arrived yesterday.’
‘Ada’s a posh name – where you from then?’ asked Ruby.
‘Liverpool,’ said Ada, taking a big bite of bread and butter.
‘That’s not posh,’ said Tom, laughing.
‘It is,’ said the woman from behind the counter, ‘compared to where I come from.’
‘Where’s that then?’ asked Tom.
‘The arse-end of nowhere, moving from place to place with the army.’ And then she told them the story of how she’d come up to the Crimea with her husband, who had gone and got himself killed during the Battle of Balaklava. Ada was shocked at the matter-of-fact way she spoke about such a terrible thing. ‘When they brought the bodies back in carts it was difficult to see, but he had yellow boots, a bit unusual, so I spotted him. I was glad I was able to see him that one last time. Some of them are blown to bits and never found.’ She paused for a moment, glancing down at the counter, and Ada wasn’t sure how best to offer comfort, but before she could do anything the woman looked up and continued her story.
‘Then it was down to me to find some way of supporting myself – no pay from the army now. I managed to find a job in this canteen. We weren’t paid at first, but our men were suffering through shortage of food. You see, the French have it all organized; they have a woman in uniform called a cantinière assigned to a group of men. They provide the food and make sure the men have drinks and are doing all right. We still can’t compare to that but at least the great British Army have allowed us to provide something regular. You know what, those French, they have omelettes made with fresh eggs and herbs or mushrooms that they go out and forage. They only have the best, those men, and it shows – they keep much fitter.’ She was looking Tom up and down as she spoke and smiling. ‘They don’t drink as much beer either,’ she continued as Tom finished the dregs. ‘They have wine,’ she laughed, flicking the end of her nose upwards with a finger to indicate a snooty expression. ‘Fine wine!’
Tom and Ada laughed as they placed their empty tankard and mug on the counter. Then Tom asked Ada to help them carry the boxes of provisions for the hospital that were waiting stacked up behind the counter.
‘Don’t worry if they’re too heavy,’ he said. ‘Me and Ruby here can manage ’em.’
Before he could continue, Ada pushed past him and picked up the biggest box she could see. It was heavy, but she was determined to show that she could manage it. Glad to get it safely out and on to the back of the wagon, she turned to grin at Tom as he struggled through the low door, ducking his head and carrying two boxes.
‘I may not be a big man,’ she said, laughing, ‘but at least I can manage the doors round here.’
Tom shook his head as he stowed his boxes on the back. ‘Well, miss,’ he said, smiling with her, ‘one thing I have learnt after working with all those women up at the hospital is to never underestimate a single one of them.’
Ada straightened her back and held her head a little higher at this but then turned, wrinkling her nose in disgust, and asked Tom outright, ‘What is that smell?’
‘Come with me,’ he said, taking her by the arm and leading her to the quayside where she had landed only yesterday – or was it the day before? She couldn’t remember.
‘Could be any of these reasons,’ he said, shaking his head in dismay at the scene that lay before them. ‘See all those boxes there? Supplies of food, rotting away while we get clearance for them to be despatched, and while our men are desperate for supplies up in camp and at the front line.’
He led her through the clutter and debris to a point where you could look down at a small beach. As they approached the foul smell became stronger and the air full of strange grumbling noises. She was almost too afraid to look down, dreading what she might find. When she did, it was not the rotting, dismembered bodies of soldiers that she had feared but a sorry collection of painfully thin livestock: some dead, some dying. Those still alive stood precariously on bony legs, all hock and hamstring. There were horses, bullocks and some large, scraggy-looking animals with humped backs and curved necks that Ada had never seen in real life but had seen in illustrations in their Bible at home. She could remember pointing at the strange creatures and asking, ‘What’s that, Grandfather?’ and him replying, ‘That’s a camel. You don’t see many of them round Liverpool. They live in hot countries.’
Standing for a few moments, she allowed herself to linger in that memory from what seemed now like a different lifetime. She felt a warm glow from the presence of her grandfather, as if he was still looking after her. Then she roused herself and glanced at Tom Dunderdale. He was nothing like her grandfather, but somehow managed to make her feel like she had in the early years of her life. It felt strange to have found that so quickly out here, so far away from home.
Ada looked back down to the poor creatures and wondered why they were here. Then, almost as if he had heard her question, Tom said, ‘I think these were mainly baggage animals that had been used to haul supplies up to the army camp before the railway was opened. Now there isn’t enough fodder to feed them so somebody has herded them down here and left them to die. It’s very sad, very sad,’ he said, lost in his own thoughts for a moment.
Ada placed a hand on his arm, sensing that this one sorrow was only part of what he had to deal with out here in the Crimea. This made her think of her own situation, so far away from home, with no idea where Frank was. Now that she was here, with nothing that linked her to her own world, she seemed to have less and less idea of how to go about finding him.
And then it hit her all over again: what if he wasn’t here, what if she’d got it all completely wrong? She felt like someone had punched her, knocking all the breath out of her. Tears sprang to her eyes and she could not control them. Tom saw her face and put his arm around her, saying, ‘I know, miss, it isn’t easy seeing all this for the first time. Maybe I should have left you back at the hospital.’
They stood together with their backs to the harbour for a few moments, then Ada looked up at Tom and said, ‘I’m all right now, I’m all right.’ Pulling away from him, she wiped the tears from her eyes and took a big sniff. He fumbled for a handkerchief in his pocket but could only produce a piece of ragged cloth. They both laughed and Ada took the rag, saying it was fine. She blew her nose as she had done as a child and then offered it back to him.
‘You’re all right, miss,’ said Tom, laughing. ‘Think you’d best keep it now.’
As they walked back towards the cart, they heard the big guns start up in the distance. Suddenly anxious, she grabbed hold of Tom’s arm as they made their way through the boxes and debris. Ada began to feel her body shake and knew that she needed to get back to the safety of the hospital. She took some deep breaths and tried to calm herself, knowing already that if she was going to survive out here and stand a chance of becoming a nurse she would probably have to see and smell much worse than this.
Glad to see Prince waiting patiently for them, Ada had to resist the urge to hug the old horse round his neck. They climbed back up on to the wagon and set off at what was, for Prince, a brisk pace.
A rapid salvo from the big guns made her move up closer to Tom on the wooden seat. He told her that they were far enough away for
her not to worry at all. But if she was up at the front line, dug in with the British and French, laying siege to the Russians holed up in Sevastopol, well, that would be a very different matter.
As they rumbled their way back to the hospital, Ada let Tom’s steady stream of conversation wash over her. He told her that nobody expected the fighting would go on for so long after the big battles at Alma and Balaklava, and the Charge of the Light Brigade. They thought that a siege would be a matter of weeks but it had gone on for months and months and all through the fierce cold of winter. The Russians had batteries of artillery strategically placed to protect their position at Sevastopol. The British and French were all around but struggling at present to make any advance. He told her sadly that this stand-off was costing many lives and substantial injury to small groups of soldiers every day. The fresh casualties were dealt with in the field hospital at camp and he had worked up there as well. ‘You need nerves of steel and a strong constitution to work in those conditions. When a bunch of wounded come in there’s blood and guts everywhere.’
Ada was so consumed with taking all this in she wasn’t able to summon up much of a response but in her heart she felt a deep, deep sadness about all the dead and wounded that must lie in this strange place, so far away from home. Remembering again what had actually led her out here in the first place, she cleared her throat. ‘I need to ask you something, Tom,’ she said. ‘A friend of mine, she thinks her brother may have come out here on one of the ships from Liverpool. She doesn’t know where he is but someone told her he could have come out to the Crimea.’
‘Is he army?’ said Tom.
‘No, he definitely isn’t army.’
‘Is he part of a ship’s crew?’
‘No, she doesn’t think so.’
‘All sounds a bit strange then – was he some kind of stowaway or something?’
