by Lea Wait
The dark river murmured below us, and we could hear the slap of the incoming tide hitting the rocks on the shores and the ships moored in the harbor.
“How much of that long document have you finished printing?” Nell asked. I held the lantern slightly in front of us, so we wouldn’t trip on the uneven boards of the bridge.
“None,” I admitted. “Charlie and I had just started setting the type for the first two pages yesterday, when we heard about Owen.”
“How many pages will there be?”
“Ten, I think. Setting the type for each page takes several hours, and then we have to print each page.” I might as well admit the truth. “The next edition of the Herald is due out Saturday, so I’d hoped to have several pages of the Act in the paper, and then print the rest on Sunday, so it would be ready for the county clerk by Monday morning. I don’t think there’ll be time now.”
“It must be hard to run a business.”
“I’ve always dreamed of publishing a newspaper. But now that Pa’s enlisted, Ma will need me at our family’s store while he’s gone. It would have been hard to keep the paper going and help out at the store, anyway. Maybe it’s for the best if I have to give up the paper.” I said the words out loud, and tried hard to believe them.
At the end of the bridge we turned right, down a rutted dirt road.
“Where are we going?” Nell asked. “You haven’t told me.”
“At the end of this road there’s an old fort,” I explained. “It was built for the War of 1812, to defend Wiscasset from the British. Since then moss and grasses have grown over the fortifications. But you said many soldiers, and there were many soldiers at the fort—Americans and, after they were captured, British. And you said gray stones. The fortifications were built of granite from the quarry in Edgecomb, so they’re gray. It all fits.”
Nell stumbled, and I grabbed her elbow.
“I’m fine,” she said. “I’m used to cobblestones and plank roads, but roads of hardened mud are hard to navigate in the dark.”
I tried to hold the lantern so it was easier for her to see. Her wide, long skirts and cloak were cumbersome. Maybe I shouldn’t have let her come.
“How far do we have to go? I’m feeling that Owen needs us,” she said suddenly, and started walking faster.
“Perhaps a quarter-mile,” I said, smiling to myself. Miss Nell Gramercy might look delicate, but I didn’t know any girls in town who’d go for a walk in the dark with someone of the opposite sex, to a place they’d never been.
She looked at me. “I think we should run, if you think the lantern will stay lit.” And she took off.
She had to hold up her long hoop skirts and cloak, and though we wouldn’t have won any races, we did speed up considerably. We were both huffing and puffing when we made it up the hill at the end of the island where the fort stood, surrounded on three sides by the river, and partially illuminated by the half-moon.
“Owen!” I called out while Nell caught her breath. “Owen! Are you here?”
I walked first to the Wiscasset side of the island, and then to the end. Nell had dropped back and was close to the fort itself.
I’d started down to where the fortifications had been built close to the river when I thought I heard a voice.
“Joe?” Then a pause. “Joe? Is that you?”
“Owen! Where are you?”
“Down here. Near the river. I’m hurt.”
“Nell—he’s here!” I called up to her, and scrambled down one of the old paths soldiers had worn in the dirt sixty years ago, when taking their positions at the walls. “Owen! Say something!”
“Joe, I fell. My leg’s hurt bad. And I’m so cold.”
Chapter 35
Thursday, April 18, before midnight
Owen was shivering badly. He’d slipped while making his way down one of the narrow, overgrown trails that wove through the fort’s grounds. He had fallen, hitting several of the large granite rocks, and landed on his left leg, which was folded under him at an unnatural angle.
His eyes opened wide as he saw Nell beside me. She knelt on the cold ground and felt his forehead. “He’s feverish. We should have thought to at least bring some water with us.”
She turned to Owen and spoke softly. “Are you bleeding anywhere?”
He shook his head. “Not anymore. Scratches.”
“Good.” She looked at Owen’s leg, but didn’t touch it. Then she took off her heavy cape and covered him with it. Her white dress glimmered in the glow of the lantern.
“Joe, we can’t move him; his leg is badly broken. We could make it worse. We need to get a doctor with a wagon. You’re faster than I am, and you know where to go. I’ll stay with Owen and talk with him and keep him warm.”
I got up. “How do you know so much about doctoring?”
Nell hesitated. “I had brothers and sisters. I took care of them. You go, now—bring back a doctor.”
I started to hand Nell the lantern, but she refused it. “You’ll need it to make better time on the road. You don’t want to fall and break your own leg. Now, go!”
I left her sitting next to Owen, her arm around him. I think she was singing him a song.
I hardly remember the next hour. Somehow I got back to Wiscasset and told Dr. Cushman. While he was harnessing up his horse and putting water and blankets and lanterns in his wagon, I went to tell the Bascombs.
Mrs. Bascomb loaded more blankets into her husband’s arms and hugged and kissed me about ten times, until I was finally able to drag her husband out of there. We ran back to Dr. Cushman’s house, where he’d readied his wagon.
I wished I’d had time to let Ma and Pa know what was happening, but everything was happening too fast for such delays. Dr. Cushman did look at me questioningly when I told him that Nell Gramercy was with Owen, but he, too, focused on what had to be done. Questions could be asked and answered later.
The ride back to Fort Edgecomb went quickly. Before I knew it I was leading the doctor and Mr. Bascomb down the uneven path between the rocks where Nell and Owen were.
By now Nell was also shivering, and I could tell something was wrong with her as well, but Owen was so glad to see his father, there was no time for anything but trying not to hurt him too much. We lifted him onto the plank Dr. Cushman had brought, and carried him to the wagon.
Dr. Cushman gave him some medicine for pain, and Owen was brave. I think he was almost too tired to cry or scream. Almost, but not quite. The wagon bumping up and down on the rocky road didn’t help. I tried not to look at his face; I figgered he wouldn’t want me to see him cry. But the way his leg looked, there wasn’t a grown man in Wiscasset who wouldn’t have shouted to high heaven and let loose with language the reverend wouldn’t have looked on lightly.
Dr. Cushman covered Owen with the blankets he’d brought, and Nell curled up in another corner of the wagon on her cloak.
“What’s wrong?” I asked her softly.
“My head,” she answered. “It started a while after you’d left. It’s pounding. I can hardly see. The jouncing of the wagon makes it worse.”
I didn’t know what to do. “Do you want us to take you back to the inn?” I asked.
“No,” she managed to say. “No—please. Don’t make me go back there. Let me stay, and see how Owen is. Maybe the doctor can help me, too.”
I left her alone, and waited to see what would happen.
About that time I looked up at the sky and realized it must be considerably after midnight. No doubt Nell’s aunt and uncle knew she was missing by now.
Owen was safe—but how much trouble was Nell in?
Chapter 36
Friday, April 19, early morning
Dr. Cushman’s wife took one look at Nell and brought her to their parlor to lie down.
Mr. Bascomb, Dr. Cushman, and I lifted the plank Owen was on off the wagon and carried it into the doctor’s office, where we laid him on a long pine table in the middle of the room. Owen’s face, which I could
just see under the blankets we’d piled on top of him, was chalky, and the medicine the doctor had given him was beginning to wear off. I hoped he wouldn’t think too much about the stuffed birds hanging on the walls around the office.
Dr. Cushman took one of the knives from an assortment of saws and blades on a side table and cut off the right leg of Owen’s trousers. Owen winced as the blue wool pulled away from where his bone had broken through the skin. Now-clotted blood had stiffened the material and attached it to his muscle and skin.
Dr. Cushman put a white tablet in Owen’s mouth. “Swallow this; it’ll make the pain easier to bear.” He took a basin of water and washed the grit and dirt and blood off Owen’s leg. Then he looked at Mr. Bascomb and me.
“Are you both steady enough to hold the boy while I set this bone? We’ll give him a few minutes for the opium to work, but then I’ll need to manipulate the bone and put it back inside. If either of you aren’t able to do this, tell me now. My wife’s helped me before. I can get her.”
I didn’t want to be there. But I also didn’t want to be replaced by Dr. Cushman’s wife. I glanced at Mr. Bascomb. He was just looking at Owen, holding his hand.
“I can do it, sir,” I said.
Mr. Bascomb nodded. “Go ahead. Get it over with.”
The tablet must have been strong. Owen appeared as though he didn’t see us—as though he was falling asleep.
“Hold the boy straight, then,” said Dr. Cushman. “Bascomb, you hold his head and shoulders, and don’t let him move. Joe, put one hand on his right hip and the other on his right knee, and hold them down. Don’t let them move. I’ll do this as quickly as I can.”
The doctor rolled up his sleeves, and before we knew it he’d taken hold of the bone sticking out of Owen’s leg and started pushing it back in, pulling the skin right over it.
I watched for a moment, and then couldn’t look anymore. I concentrated on holding Owen down. His body under my hands got tighter and tighter. I felt it strain and try to move. I pushed down harder, as though I were pushing, pushing him down through the table. I couldn’t see or feel anything except that table and my hands. I didn’t even think about Owen. Just about keeping my hands down, and still.
I can’t tell you how long it all lasted. It seemed an hour. Probably it was five or six minutes.
Finally Dr. Cushman’s voice said, “You can let go. It’s done.”
I stepped back. Owen’s bone was hidden. An angry jagged tear in the skin marked where the bone had been.
“Is he going to be all right?” asked Mr. Bascomb.
“I hope so,” said Dr. Cushman. “Unless infection sets in; that’s the biggest danger.” He was wrapping the wounded leg in clean bandages. Owen lay quietly.
“I’ll put a splint on him now; he’ll sleep for an hour or two. In the morning we’ll take him home in the wagon. Make sure he rests for a couple of days, and then he can walk, using a crutch. If the leg gets red or swells up, let me know immediately. We might have to amputate. The break was clean, but since it broke through the skin, and he was outside for so long, there’s danger of gangrene. Only time will tell.”
Amputate! I looked down at Owen, as Dr. Cushman bound two small boards around his leg, one on each side, to hold the break together.
“I’ll give you a few of the opium pills to use later, when he’s home. He can have one every four hours for the first three days, for pain. After that I’ll stop in to see how he’s doing,” Dr. Cushman said to Mr. Bascomb. “There’s nothing more we can do for him now. Why don’t you go home and tell your wife how he is? Mrs. Cushman and I will take good care of him until you get back.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” said Mr. Bascomb. “My wife will be waiting for news. I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Thank you for everything you’ve done for my boy.”
He bent down and gently put his hand on Owen’s forehead. Then he left.
“Now, Joe,” said Dr. Cushman, “let’s go see about that young lady you brought with you.”
Chapter 37
Friday, April 19, morning
Nell was lying on a sofa in the Cushmans’ parlor. She was shaking even though Mrs. Cushman had covered her with quilts. A cloth covered her forehead and eyes, and a hot cup of tea was on the table next to her.
“Miss Gramercy?” asked Dr. Cushman. “How are you feeling?”
“It’s only one of my headaches,” Nell answered softly. “Your wife has been very kind, but the pain sometimes lasts for hours. Please, could I have some laudanum? That would help.”
“Indeed,” answered the doctor. “May I see your eyes?” Nell took the cloth off her face and opened her eyes. The doctor looked into them carefully. Then, to my surprise, he picked up her hand and looked at her fingernails. “How long has it been since you had a dose of laudanum?” he asked.
“Not since yesterday morning, I think,” she said. “My uncle gives it to me when the headaches come, but they keep getting worse. I take it most days, especially before I have spiritual sessions. It takes the pain away for a while, and makes it easier for me to hear my voices. But then the headaches come back. Don’t you have any?”
“My dear girl, you mustn’t take any more of that drug. Laudanum is powdered opium mixed with alcohol. It can take the pain away for a while, but should only be used by adults, in extreme and limited circumstances.”
Dr. Bascomb looked over at his wife. “I’m seriously concerned about this young woman. I’ve been reading in medical journals from Europe about the dangerously addictive properties of opium. She’s showing all the signs.”
He turned back to Nell. “Miss Gramercy . . .”
“Please, call me Nell. I’m only twelve. I get so tired of being Miss Gramercy.”
“Then, Nell . . . the laudanum is hurting your body in ways that are hard to even guess at, since you’re so young. True, it will take away your pain for a few hours, but it will also destroy your life, if you continue taking it the way you have been.”
“But I can’t work when my headaches hurt so much.”
“Then you must stop working,” Dr. Cushman said. “The amount of laudanum you’re taking is actually causing the headaches. You get them when you’ve gone too long without the drug. The only way to totally stop your pain is to stop taking the laudanum.”
Nell started to cry.
“Nell,” I said, going over and sitting on the floor next to her. “What’s wrong? Is it your uncle?”
She nodded through her tears. “I can’t stop working. He won’t let me stop. My sessions support him and my aunt.”
“What about your parents, dear? Haven’t you got any other family you could live with?” Mrs. Cushman asked.
Nell shook her head. “My father died when I was little. My older brother drowned, and then Mother and my other brothers and sisters died of consumption. All of them. I was the only one left. I was going to live in the poorhouse until my uncle found out that I sometimes heard voices. He said as long as I heard voices, I had a home with him. He won’t let me stop touring. Not ever. I’ve begged him to let me, but he refuses to listen. And I have nowhere else to go.”
“That’s criminal,” said Dr. Cushman softly. “Parents and guardians have the right to raise a child as they see fit, but only within the bounds of reason and humanity. Drugging a child is a form of abuse. I wonder what Sheriff Chadbourne would say to this—a girl addicted to laudanum and forced to work against her will.”
“Would you like to stay in Wiscasset?” I asked suddenly. I hadn’t thought it through, but it made sense. “Pa’s enlisting, and with Ethan gone, it’s just Ma and me. Ma’s always said she wanted a daughter. We have room. You could stay with us.”
Everyone looked at me.
“Are you sure, Joe?” asked Dr. Cushman.
Pa said I was to be the man of the house when he was gone. I’d just made a major decision. “I’m sure.”
“I’m guessing your uncle and aunt don’t know where you are, Nell. Am I right?” said Dr. Cushma
n.
Nell nodded. “I sneaked out of the Mansion House late yesterday afternoon to help find Owen. My aunt and uncle would never have given me permission to leave.”
“Do you want to stay here, with Joe’s family?” Dr. Cushman looked at her seriously. “Do you want to leave your uncle and aunt and never see them again?”
Nell looked at me. Then she reached her hand out for Dr. Cushman’s. “Oh, yes. If that were possible, that’s what I would choose.”
Dr. Cushman nodded, as though he’d just made a decision, too. “Then I suggest we get you away from here as soon as we can. Dear,” he said, turning to his wife, “would you watch over Owen Bascomb while I go and pay a call on Sheriff Chadbourne and apprise him of this situation? In the meantime, Joe, you take Miss Gramercy to your home. Keep her out of sight until the sheriff or I let you know what’s to happen.”
He smiled at both of us as I helped Nell to her feet. “And I suggest both of you try to get a little sleep. It’s been a long night for all of us.”
The sun was beginning to come up over the Sheepscot as I showed Nell the long way to my house, down High Street and over to Fore Street and around, on the chance her uncle was out looking for her. We figured he’d be looking on Main Street, or Water Street, or some other section of town more centrally located.
Had Mr. Allen alerted the sheriff himself when he realized Nell was missing? Had he been searching the town for her, just as the townspeople had for Owen? Or had he kept her disappearance a secret, knowing that it could mean the end of her good reputation? Or perhaps, thinking she’d been abducted, as sometimes happened with wealthy children, he’d been waiting for a ransom note. Who knew what he’d been thinking?
All Nell and I wanted was to get to my house as quickly as we could. We slipped in through the kitchen door and were greeted by Trusty, whose barks would have wakened any neighbors not yet up. Ma and Pa were sitting at the kitchen table, where I suspected they’d been all night.
