Miss Nightingale's Nurses

by Kate Eastham

  Stretching her hand out to Ada, she introduced herself as Sally, Mother Seacole’s maid, and welcomed her to the British Hotel. The name Seacole seemed familiar and then Ada remembered what the washerwoman in Scutari had told her.

  Without hesitation Ada replied, ‘Pleased to meet you. I’m Ada, a nurse at Balaklava.’ That’s odd, she thought, she’d never referred to herself as a nurse before. Maybe she should have said she worked in the laundry or she was Dr Lampeter’s assistant. No, not that. Looking across at him now she was loath to be associated with someone who, with his demeanour of entitlement, was already drinking a large glass of something and ordering a plate of ham with the sort of air that Ada didn’t like and would not tolerate.

  Did he just click his fingers and call for the girl to come over?

  Ada would have left and gone to sit back in the wagon immediately if it hadn’t been for Sally’s teasing laugh and the way she turned her back on Lampeter and rolled her eyes at Ada. They both laughed and Ada followed the girl to the counter.

  ‘Now, nurse,’ she said, ‘while Mrs Seacole’s away I’m in charge, so what can I get you, on the house?’

  Close up the shelves were full of many delicacies – potted meats, pickles, bottled beer, roasted coffee, tins of biscuits, chocolate, cigars, tobacco, spirits and even bottles of champagne.

  Ada couldn’t take her eyes off the chocolate, and without asking Sally brought some down and broke off a good chunk. She then presented Ada with a small glass of dark red liquid, saying with a smile, ‘Cherry brandy – try a sip, it’s sweet.’

  Then Sally was gone, moving over to the frowning Dr Lampeter with a plate of ham and pickles and a full bottle of wine.

  Ada stood at the counter with her back to Lampeter while she savoured the melting chocolate in her mouth. Then she tried a sip of the drink. It was sweet and definitely alcoholic, but with the chocolate it tasted delicious and for the first time Ada enjoyed a spot of the strong stuff. Wanting to make this moment last for as long as possible, she ate slowly and sipped the drink and gazed at the shelves. She felt the warm liquid soothing and relaxing her – no wonder people used this stuff to get through hard times.

  Suddenly Sally popped up behind the counter and they both laughed. ‘I think your friend might be tired or very cross about something,’ she said in a low voice.

  ‘He’s not my friend and he’s always like that,’ whispered Ada. ‘But he seems to be enjoying your lovely food – maybe that’ll put him in a better mood.’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Sally, ‘but a lot of them who come in here are like that. We just let them get on with it.’

  ‘Do you open up here every day?’

  ‘Yes, except Sunday. That’s our day of rest but we still work anyway, getting ready for the next week, and if there are casualties Mrs Seacole will go out to the front line.’

  ‘To the front line?’ said Ada, her eyes wide.

  ‘Yes,’ said Sally. ‘She takes her medical bag with needles, bandages and medicines and off she goes on a horse or in the cart. It’s what she does. If there are injured soldiers, Mrs Seacole will get to them somehow. She treats all wounded soldiers, the Russians as well.’

  Ada was shocked. ‘But the Russians are vicious barbarians,’ she said. ‘That’s what I was told back home. How could Mrs Seacole treat them? Would they not try to kill her?’

  Sally smiled; it felt like she was used to answering that question. ‘The Russians are just men with mothers, wives, children too. Soldiers just like the British, the French, the Turks, and if they need help, Mother Seacole will give it.’

  ‘Really?’ said Ada. ‘Isn’t that dangerous for her?’

  ‘Yes it can be – she sometimes goes out there when the troops are under fire – but usually she will wait for the ceasefire and for the truce.’

  ‘The truce?’ said Ada, scrunching her brow. ‘You mean when they put up the white flag and no one is allowed to kill the enemy?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’

  ‘And do they stick to it?’

  ‘Yes they do, and if there are dead or injured men lying on the ground between the two sides – what they call no-man’s-land – they’re allowed to go and treat the injured or remove the bodies without fear of attack.’

  ‘I never knew that,’ said Ada. ‘So our side will mix with the Russians during the truce and nobody will get killed.’

  ‘Correct,’ said Sally. ‘Sometimes they help each other or share a smoke or try to chat.’

  ‘And then once the white flag goes down, bang, they start trying to kill each other again?’

  ‘That’s exactly the case,’ said Sally.

  Ada’s whole view of the world as it had been given to her, mostly by her grandfather, seemed to be turning upside down. She was amazed by this other side to something that she had thought was very straightforward: us against them.

  ‘But we also treat the wounded and sick who come to the door, here at the British Hotel. We open up every morning except Sunday, and we serve coffee, and by that time we usually have a line of men waiting to be treated. We see each one in turn.’

  ‘So Mrs Seacole can do this herself; she doesn’t need to work with a doctor?’ said Ada.

  ‘Yes. She has done that kind of work for many years. We are from Jamaica and she is called a doctress there. Mrs Seacole knows all about herbal remedies too. Have you heard about the cholera powder?’

  ‘No, but I’ve heard about the cholera,’ said Ada. ‘Is the powder a cure?’

  ‘Not always a cure,’ said Sally, ‘but it can help sometimes. Mrs Seacole is famous for it out here in the Crimea.’

  I hope I don’t find myself having to try some of that famous powder, thought Ada, terrified at the thought. They lived with cholera constantly in Liverpool, and she knew that many, many people had died from it.

  As she stood there, pondering the number of ways that a person could die out here, she didn’t at first hear Lampeter calling over to her. He had finished his bottle and it was time to leave.

  When she turned he had already got up from the table and was weaving his way across to her. How much has he had to drink? she thought, outraged at his behaviour.

  ‘’S time to leave,’ he slurred, before turning and weaving his way back through the tables and towards the door.

  ‘Wish me luck,’ said Ada, smiling at Sally.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she said, ‘the horses know their way back to the hospital. And don’t forget, Ada, come back up and see us again soon. Mrs Seacole would be very pleased to meet you. She likes to meet all the new nurses.’

  ‘I will,’ shouted Ada as she ran after Lampeter, who was struggling to open the door. Then she grabbed his arm to steady him as he stumbled across to the horse and wagon. Once she had him loaded, Ada jumped up beside him and sat for a moment catching her breath. As she sat she noticed a woman standing against the wall of the building wearing a bright red dress, tattered at the hem. Something about the woman’s appearance worried her. She tried to smile at her but the woman just looked down at the ground.

  ‘Who is that?’ she asked Lampeter as he leant against her, smelling of drink.

  ‘Oh, she’s a vivandière, waiting for the officers,’ he replied with a slur in his voice. Ada thought he must mean they were like the women of the streets that she had seen in Liverpool, the women that Mrs Regan had warned her to stay away from and told her that she might become if she didn’t find the right fella.

  Lost in her own thoughts for a moment, Ada was startled as Lampeter grabbed her arm and started talking at her again.

  ‘You see, there’s always a need amongst the soldiers for that sort of woman – away from home, away from their sweethearts and wives. And unfortunately some of the women who come out here fall on hard times when their men get killed, or some of them come out here to make money in that way anyway and there’s always the trade to be had, you see, because men will be men and they are a certain way.’

  Lampeter then let go of
her arm but grabbed her thigh to steady himself as he slumped to the side, and Ada was quite glad that he seemed incapable of any further explanation. She removed his hand from her thigh, making sure he was wedged in and not going to fall out of the carriage, then took up the reins and flicked them across the horse’s back. She did this gently, not wanting to hurt the creature. The horse didn’t move. She flicked the reins again. Still nothing.

  Looking over, she saw the woman in the red dress staring at her. Ada began to feel flustered and could feel her face going red. How the hell does anyone get these things to move? she thought. When she looked up again she could see that the woman was miming a flick of the reins but doing it more strongly, like she meant business. Ah, she thought, I need to give it a bit more. So she flicked the reins hard across the horse’s back and they shot off very fast.

  Lampeter lurched to the side, and if she hadn’t grabbed him he probably would have fallen out. As they hurtled away Ada put her hand up to thank the woman in the red dress.

  She prayed that Sally had been right and that the horse would take them back towards the hospital and not the army camp. She certainly didn’t fancy another night there with all those shells and night raids. It made the hospital feel like the safest place in the world. Ada couldn’t wait to get back there and curl up in her new bed on the floor next to Rose.

  15

  ‘I am ready to stand out the war with any man.’

  Florence Nightingale

  The next day Ada found herself back in the laundry.

  Miss Smith had been on a rampage yet again and caused uproar by entering the ward, stripping sheets off the men, moving beds and insisting that floorboards were taken up to try and get rid of the rats and fleas. Consequently there was an enormous pile of washing to be done. Thankfully most of it was reasonably clean and not foul-smelling.

  Ada got stuck in to the work alongside her silent companion. The upturned box was empty today and Dolly explained that Ruth was resting in the tent. She’d cried every last tear out and was now lying exhausted. Dolly was hoping that they might be able to tempt her with a morsel of food later in the day, but she was still in a terrible state. As Dolly spoke, Lavinia started praying and this became louder and louder until they were forced to change the subject.

  Working together with the women at their simple tasks, Ada felt a certain contentment; she could relax and let her mind wander. She kept thinking about Alma up at the army camp and Sally at the British Hotel. She spent most of the day in some kind of reverie, but doing her best at any opportunity to show some kindness towards Lavinia, a woman who Dolly said had been as chatty as you please before her man was killed.

  ‘It takes people different ways,’ said Dolly with a look of sadness in her eyes.

  Later in the afternoon, as Ada straightened up from the washtub to stretch her back, she looked around and found that she was completely alone. Dolly must have gone to check on Ruth and she wasn’t sure where Lavinia was. There was just the ginger cat stretched out in the sun on the upturned box, flicking its tail.

  It felt a bit odd. Since arriving in the Crimea she had very rarely been on her own; all work and activity here was communal. For a few moments all she could hear was the soft boom of artillery in the distance and the twitter of birds in the bush by her side.

  She breathed in the hot air, feeling the trickles of sweat run down her face, her back and between her breasts. She took pleasure in the moment of solitude.

  Then, from nowhere, two arms shot around her from behind, clamping her in a strong, vice-like grip. She tried to struggle and kick back with her heels but couldn’t shake off this fiend who had come out of nowhere.

  ‘Don’t struggle or I’ll really hurt you,’ said a man’s voice up close to her ear. She couldn’t see him; she couldn’t turn to face him and kick him in the balls. The voice, now wheedling, began to whisper in her ear: ‘Well, nursey, or should I say little Miss Laundry, what are you doing out here all alone, eh? Want to spend a bit of quiet time with me – is that the plan?’

  Ada kicked and struggled harder but still couldn’t shake him off. She could smell his foul breath as he panted in her ear and feel the bony hardness of his body against hers. He had started to move with her, to try and drag her away.

  ‘You best not struggle, Nurse Ada. I saw you back in Scutari with those army wives. I knew you weren’t one of them; you came up from Liverpool. I know you—’

  ‘You know nothing, Cedric Wilson!’ shouted a woman’s voice.

  Instantly Ada’s assailant released her and staggered back with a cry of pain. A woman’s voice shouted again, loud and clear:

  ‘Don’t you dare touch her again, Cedric Wilson, don’t you dare! And you know nothing about her life and who she is. Nothing!’

  Ada turned to find Lavinia with a savage look on her face and a large piece of firewood in her right hand. Cedric Wilson lay helpless on the ground, rolling from side to side and nursing the back of his head.

  Ada was shocked, her head reeling. She couldn’t speak, just stared at the scrawny man on the ground trying to make sense of the situation. Then she felt relief wash over her and began to register her amazement at Lavinia who, now that she had found her voice, continued to chastise the man, tapping him on the legs with the piece of firewood and calling him a cowardly bastard, until with an angry growl he jumped up and staggered off, holding his head.

  Ada was stunned. Lavinia grinned at her, then said, ‘ “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want,” ’ before laughing and coming to Ada with a concerned expression, asking if she was all right, telling her not to worry about him, he would stay away now, she’d see to that.

  Ada stood in amazement and then hugged Lavinia, saying, ‘Thank you, thank you!’ The women clung together, aware that in very different ways they had both been rescued that afternoon.

  Breaking away at last, Lavinia said, ‘I’ve been wanting to do that to him for such a long time. He was in the same regiment as my husband but they chucked him out and sent him back to England. Now he’s come back here to be an orderly. My Robert always used to say that Cedric was a good-for-nothing, deceitful coward. Unfortunately they’re not all good men and true.’

  When Dolly reappeared she was amazed to find Ada and Lavinia chatting away over the washtub, as if no one had ever had a problem talking.

  ‘What you two lasses been up to then?’ she enquired with a puzzled look on her face.

  Without hesitation Lavinia replied, ‘We’ve been chasing the biggest rat we’ve ever seen out of the laundry.’

  Ada laughed. Dolly said nothing but went over to Lavinia and gave her a big kiss on the cheek.

  Lavinia never stopped talking all day, as if a river of words had been dammed up inside and needed to pour out. She told Ada about her Robert and the town they had both grown up in, her brothers and sisters, Robert’s mother, who must be heartbroken at the loss of her only son, the church they were married in, her best friend Iris who worked as a seamstress, life in the army, what she thought about Miss Smith, Dr Mason and that other bad-tempered one, and that beautiful well-spoken nurse they called Rose. They laughed again at Dolly’s jokes about Tom Dunderdale and complained about the extra laundry. It was good to talk and moan with Lavinia. Ada was almost glad that she’d been accosted by Cedric, as it had given Lavinia a way out of her silent world.

  That evening they folded the dry washing, rolled the bandages and emptied out the washtub, but instead of letting the fire die down Dolly found a bit more wood and built it up again. She then said her goodnights to Ada and Lavinia and headed off to spend time with Ruth.

  Once she’d gone they went together to find their food from the kitchen: the stew, mostly potato and onion, that was served every day, some bread and butter and a cup of tea for Ada and a measure of rum for Lavinia. They sat by the fire watching the wood spit and burn while they ate their meal. Then, in a more measured way, Lavinia began to talk again, to tell Ada more about Dolly. Not the oft-repeated story of h
er chasing the Turks but this time how she came to the Crimea in the first place. Lavinia knew because their husbands had both been in the same regiment and while Lavinia had been picked out of the ballot to go to war with her man, Dolly’s name had not been drawn. So Dolly was not ‘on the strength’, as they called it.

  ‘So the women can’t choose if they go or not?’ said Ada.

  ‘No they can’t. And the army only allow a few from each regiment to go with the men. The names of those without children go into a hat and get drawn a few days before the men leave and that’s that. It was a terrible time for us women, especially those with children – they were left behind starving for food and without any money.’

  ‘That can’t be right,’ said Ada, the sense of it burning inside of her. ‘How can that be allowed to happen?’

  ‘It’s the army, they just seem to be able to get away with it,’ said Lavinia. ‘Dolly was distraught, so she devised a plan based on stories she’d heard about other women. She got hold of a full uniform for her man’s regiment, bound her breasts flat to her chest, cropped her hair and embarked with the men disguised as a soldier.’

  ‘Really?’ said Ada. ‘That’s incredible. And no one knew that she was a woman?’

  ‘Well, they knew in the ranks, but none of the officers cottoned on. She lived with the men and fought with them too. Just look at the back of her neck if you get the chance; she has a scar from a wound that she got at Alma. Dolly is the kindest, most gentle person I’ve ever known, but she’s big and strong and can fight like a man.’

  Ada sat quiet for a while taking it all in, and then Lavinia continued with a story of another woman, a story that had made everybody in the ranks laugh. ‘One of the officers couldn’t understand how, that first winter, one of his men was getting fat as the rest were getting thin. This soldier’s belly was growing and growing. Then one day the soldier disappeared for a while and came back carrying a baby boy. All the men cheered and celebrated and the woman was allowed to stay in camp with her child. The army are fickle; sometimes you can do something that seems quite small and get a good thrashing; other times, if the officers are in favour or if it feels like a good omen, they let you get on with it.