The Delirium Passage Page 11

  Sometime within the next hour, he felt some coolness on his left foot. The tide.. the wide strand. The long walk from the shade. The tide is low, but it’s coming in. I must move higher – to the shade.

  The water rose, now lapping quietly at his belly. I really must move. If only it weren’t so hot. He lay still. The water lapped at his chest and then at his cheek, yet he did not move. A wave, somewhat larger than most, washed salty water across his nose and mouth. His last memory was a fit of coughing.

  12: Corvette

  “Doctor Stortford sends you a message, Miss: will you please step below? Your captain seems to be stirring.”

  “Stirring? Oh, my!” exclaimed Marion, while she ran for the main hatch. Over her shoulder, she called, “Thank you, Mister Donovan.”

  Below, in the dark of the room that served as Neville’s Sick Bay, Dr. Stortford gave her a cursory grunt in greeting. “He’s been fidgeting his hands and wiggling his feet a bit, and he feels rather warmer than normal,” he said to her.

  “Is it a good sign, doctor?”

  “The movement is, I think, but I don’t like the higher fever.”

  “Is this how he’s been? He seems quiet now.” She felt his forehead. “Oh, he does seem quite hot now though, doesn’t he? I’ll go fetch a damp towel for his forehead.”

  When Marion returned and placed the towel over Neville’s forehead, Neville began a faint mumbling. His mumbling continued for fifteen minutes, during which time she went for another damp cloth. She also asked a passing sailor to fetch Ellen from above.

  “This is what he did before,” the doctor said when she returned. “I couldn’t understand a bit of it.”

  “Nor can I,” Marion said, “but I think I’ve only understood the word ‘tide’.” Neville’s eyelids fluttered. “Oh, Doctor, this is new, isn’t it? And I think he is much cooler than before.”

  “Aye, what luck. I think we shall not lose him after all! I suspect his fever has just broken.”

  “Oh, thank the Lord!” whispered Marion. She blew a long quiet breath, and a tear rolled from her eye. Ellen hugged her.

  * * * * *

  “I suspect his fever has just broken,” Neville heard. He lay on his back, aware the heat had gone and people were standing around him. He was still wet, however, awash in sweat. Dim light replaced the blinding sunlight. He felt a tickle in his throat and began coughing.

  “He’s awake,” spoke a male voice.

  Blackbeard? Hornigold? No, neither of them. Something else I hear, too. The tramp of feet on a deck above, and a swish of material – like a lady’s dress. Deck? There is no deck on the island, and certainly no ladies. There are faces above me now – though I’ve found no animals here – no monkeys or boars.

  “Thank the Lord! Neville, can you hear me? It’s Marion. Ellen’s here, too.”

  Neville tried to speak, but only a gravelly croak emitted from his stiff dry lips. He coughed again.

  “Don’t talk now, Neville,” Marion said. “I’ll find you some water to drink. It should stop the cough, and you’ll be fine soon, it seems. You’ve been unconscious quite some time.”

  “Three months?” Neville croaked. This time, sound came out.

  “Three months? No, no, you silly thing. Ha, ha!” Her laugh was shaky – “only three days, but we despaired of your life.”

  “You have been in quite some delirium, Neville,” Ellen said, “and the good doctor feared of your great fever. We’ve come below, fearing the worst.”

  “Here’s some wine, Neville. Take a sip,” Marion said.

  The cooling liquid dribbled across his lips and down his parched throat. Understanding began to return. “Marion, my love. What ship…?”

  Marion released a nervous, relieved giggle. “Oh, the same ship, for sure, Neville. The British merchant ship Speedwell bound from Baltimore for Jamaica. It’s only been three days, as I said. Master Carstens says we shall approach the Bahama Islands tomorrow.”

  “The Bahamas. But we can’t…?” Neville said with some apparent concern, but his voice trailed off. He was soon asleep, and the doctor pronounced him in safe condition.

  Marion and the doctor gave each other looks of cautious happiness – or success. “It does seem a particularly good sign,” the doctor said. “I shall consult my books to see if I find anything concerning the awakening of a person who has been in such a condition for several days. Some elixir or poultice probably exists which might help the situation but I am sure we will need to get fluids into him as soon as possible.”

  “Thank you, Doctor. Do you think I should stay with him now?”

  “Not necessary at this time, I think. Since he has come out of his delirium – and even said a few words – I expect he will sleep soundly for some time. Check him every few hours, though. One never knows, with such things.”

  When Marion came to visit an hour later, she found him awake, but not lively, and doing nothing more than looking at the deck above.

  “What do I hear above, Marion?” he asked. The motion of the ship was not rough. They plainly heard orders being called, running feet, and the creak of hemp as lines were pulled through blocks.

  “I suspect we are changing course, Neville. Master Carstens said he intended to do so when I came below – to be out of the way. I’m pleased you are awake enough to notice.”

  “Why a course change? Where are we?”

  “About a day off Charleston, he says, but we’ll go off to sea again now, and return for a course to Jamaica.”

  Neville opened his eyes wider with concern, “Charles Town, why? Why are we here?”

  “We were taking you in to some medical facility on shore…”

  “Ashore? In Charles Town? Certainly, not Ch… Oh, sorry. Never mind me. You said Charleston, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, dear. But now you’re past the worst of it, we’re turning southeast.”

  “Yes, of course. It makes sense. I think I’ll sleep a little more now.”

  Neville slept much of the next few days as Speedwell bashed her way through the Great Stream’s rough water before the ship slid into the more comfortable long swells of the open ocean to the east. The weather became warmer as she sailed south.

  Ellen came below one morning, looking for Marion, and found her sitting by Neville.

  “Good Morning, Ellen. He’s the best yet. He’s had some soup and a bit of biscuit, and he doesn’t croak so badly.”

  “Hello, Ellen,” Neville chimed in. “Thank you for your consolation of Marion while I was away.”

  “You weren’t really ‘away’, but you’re welcome.”

  “Marion,” Neville said, “If you will please speak to Doctor Stortford for me, I would appreciate an end to his poultices and slime draughts. I believe I have weathered the worst of the storm and will recover just fine without them.”

  “I certainly will,” she said, “I will be pleased not to have the smells in this little space.”

  Neville begins to summarize his recent ‘exploits’ for Marion. “It was all so real,” he said; “It’s very hard to believe I dreamt it.”

  “You received quite a bashing, Neville. The fall down the stair, the sickness…”

  “I fell down the stair?”

  “You did. And knocked your head. It doesn’t hurt? I still see the lump. It makes complete sense you would dream things from your book, and your past sailing around Jamaica.”

  Neville felt his head. “Ow, yes. It still hurts. Where’s the book?”

  “In your chest. I’ll fetch it for you.”

  “Maybe this is part of it. Hornigold looked exactly like this,” he said, studying the drawings… “and Blackbeard as well. Hmmpf.”

  Neville rambled on for over an hour but he was obviously much stronger.

  “How is it going with Captain Burton this morning, Mrs. Dagleishe?”

  “Quite well, it appears, Master Carstens. He has been having conversations with Marion, and I have had a few words as well. He’s even been up and
sat for breakfast today. He’ll still be weak for some time, and probably will have to stay below, if we can make him do it. Dr. Stortford says it might take a couple weeks more before he is fully recovered. Oh, what was that?” She pointed aft.

  “Porpoises, ma’am. Quite a pod of them. Usually, I see them as good luck, but not with a sail behind.”

  Ellen squinted aft for a minute or two. “I’m afraid I don’t see anything, Master Carstens.”

  “It takes an experienced eye, Ma’am, but she’s there. She was there last night, and possibly the day before, but I wasn’t sure. Now I know she has gained some on us. I am afraid of what she might be. She has the peculiar look of a warship, and possibly French. It will be some time before we know for sure. We have this morning changed our course south toward the Inaguas.

  “You say the good captain is awake? Might you be good enough to go below and inquire if he is able to come on deck and offer me his opinion… even if he must be placed in a chair and carried topside?”

  “I can ask. I am sure Neville will be all for it, and as much as I believe the fresh air will do him some good, the doctor will certainly complain.”

  Ellen returned shortly to give the Master Neville’s response. “He says he will step up without a chair, but requests you put one on deck to be sure. He says he greatly looks forward to it.”

  Carstens had a chair placed in the center of the deck behind the mainmast for safety’s sake. If he chose to sit, Neville could turn his head to see either forward or aft.

  “Good afternoon, Captain Burton. I’m quite pleased to hear of your improving health. I thank you for agreeing to come on deck in this time of my concern.”

  “Concern? Is the rumor of a French warship following us correct? Even invalids hear things.”

  “Aye, Captain, it is. Here’s a glass. Take a look aft, if you please.”

  Neville raised it to look, but the motion, together with the ship’s motion, caused him a moment’s dizziness. He dropped the glass in order to grab something steady. “I’ll take that chair now,” he said.

  The glass hadn’t broken. Carstens handed it back after Neville sat. He raised it aft again. “She certainly looks like a French naval corvette, but she may not be chasing us – just sailing for Guadeloupe or some other. We aren’t large enough to be seen as far away as we can see him, remember. Where are we now, Master?”

  The master seemed to relax a bit at the comment about possibly not being seen. “Nor’ east of the Bahamas...”

  “The Bahamas? Can we see any island yet?” Neville felt his heart rate increasing, and a twinge of the same headache he’d had when he first awoke.

  “No. They’re quite far off. I have no intention of going in amongst them. We’ll not see much of the islands other than the Inaguas or Turks and Caicos, I hope.”

  “You’re going to sail straight south past?”

  “Aye, so I intended but, with this menace behind, we might consider a course change.”

  “To hide in Nassau for our safety, possibly?” Neville asked. Since it’s no longer full of pirates.

  “Or somewhere else, if you have any ideas. Whatever we do, we must make a decision soon. By the time we are sure of our pursuer’s intentions we shall have run past the Bahamian Islands and be approaching the Windward Passage. There is no returning to an American port with the French Navy behind us. If she is interested in us, running south will probably allow her time to catch us before we reach Jamaica. She’s probably headed for the Windward passage whether to chase us or not. Our options are to continue our run as fast as ever we can run toward Great Inagua Island, hoping to hide there, and thence into the Windward Passage after Frenchie goes past, or turn for Nassau now.”

  “Speedwell seems to be quite a fast ship. Have you been sailing hard? How long has this ship been following?”

  “Not sailing hard, no. She’s been following these two days past, I believe. She must have first seen us about the time we changed course to the sou’-east. And her royals, if that’s what they be, are only becoming clearer now.”

  “She’ll not catch us soon, then?”

  “Not so long as our Dear Lord provides wind.”

  “May I offer my opinion, Master Carstens?”

  “Exactly why I asked you up, Captain. What say ye?”

  “Run for the Turks & Caicos. If we go west from here, we’ll have to make all the easting again later. We can study the charts of the islands and make our plan for hiding whilst under way.”

  “I said Great Inagua, not the Turks. The latter has been gaining a reputation as a home for French privateers. We need to avoid them as well as our pursuer.”

  “A shame, for sure… lots of hiding places in the Turks and Caicos. Here’s an idea: we change course for the south end of Cat Island, and turn west to the south of it, if needed. If he hasn’t seen us, our courses should diverge, and he should sail by. It’s better than losing our easting by going to Nassau. If he follows, we have more places to hide than we do here on open ocean. We still have alternatives.” Such as I thought (or just dreamed) three months ago. It was really a shame someone else discovered us.

  “It seems a fine plan to me,” he said. “First Mate Vondran,” he called, “Three points to larboard.”

  * * * * *

  Neville improved rapidly in the next day, going topside to take the air, beginning to eat better, consulting with the master, and observing the following ship.

  “Good Morning, Master Carstens,” Neville said, “Did she follow?”

  “Aye, she did. You can see royals and t’gallants.”

  “French?”

  “I’m sure she is. We’re cracking on for Cat Island.” He was terse; nervous, and his ship was quiet; devoid of the usual merriment and cat-calling. Men sat in small groups, ready to make any requested sail change, and murmured to themselves.

  “Make it noon,” the Master said to First Mate Vondran. The noon bell rang for the beginning of dinner.

  “Land, ho!” cried the lookout.

  “Where away?”

  “Steer a point off larboard bow, Master.”

  Low land appeared slowly as the distance decreased.

  “Land, ho!” cried the lookout again.

  “Where now, Mister Thrum?”

  “Small island to larboard, Sir.”

  “It appears your navigation is excellent, Master,” Neville said. “The rocks to larboard should be Conception Island. This to starboard is probably the Cat Island. We’ll go to Nassau, after all?”

  “I shouldn’t like to, and neither would our French friends. If they didn’t catch us before we get there, they would get a proper British welcome. I say ‘if’. I doubt they can.”

  “You’ve done this before?”

  “Yes. Not this, exactly, but it seems we usually have some delay of this sort.”

  After passing Cat Island, rounding the south-east cape and following the south shore as close to starboard as they dared, Speedwell began her northward leg.

  “Once the sun is down,” Neville said, “the Frenchies will have to guess which way we have gone. We’ll have some moon today, but not much. If she doesn’t see us to the south, she must assume we are running for Nassau for our protection.”

  “So?”

  “We sail north on the west side of Cat Island. If they follow, we go on, but if they fall off and sail south without us, continuing their course to Guadeloupe, we should anchor off Cat and wait some time for them to be gone; then continue on our course behind them. I’ll have the lookout watch the water between the islands very carefully. If he can see them turn south, we anchor for the night. I have no interest in wasting the time to sail all the way to Nassau.”

  Once beyond the toe of Cat Island, supper was called, but without the usual music and hornpipe dancing. All lights were doused, and all sails furled tight.

  “It’s good there’s no moon yet, Master Carstens,” Neville said. “And this thin layer of cloud hides much of the starlight.”

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sp; “Aye, but we might still see them with the last of the sun on them as they come through…”

  “Sail, ho!’ the lookout called.

  “Heard.” The Master answered, keeping his voice as quiet as possible. “Boy,” he called to a young mess servant, “Yes, you. Pop up top and ask Mister Stiles if he can tell if Frenchie follows or goes south. A one-word answer will do.”

  “Aye, Master,” he answered, and ran off to scramble up the lines like a happy monkey.

  A few nervous minutes passed. “Do you know a good place to anchor?”

  “No, but we have excellent charts,” Carstens said, “We…”

  A whirring sound began above their heads and continued until the boy’s feet landed soundly on deck. “South, says Mister Stiles.”

  “Excellent,” Carstens said to the boy. “Much better than yelling. You’ve earned yourself and your mess-mates an extra tot tomorrow.”

  “Thankee, Master,” responded the boy, and ran off grinning.

  “Let’s go below and take a close look at the chart. I hope we don’t need to go far. Come along, Mister Donovan. It’s your watch will have to anchor.” This he spoke to his third mate, a ruggedly handsome fellow, mid-twenties, maybe, wearing a floppy thin-brimmed brown felt cap over a bushy head of brown hair.

  “Pleased to meet you, Mister Donovan,” Neville said. “My fiancée mentioned you.” I can see why she noticed him.

  “A lovely lady, Sir. I compliment you.”

  “North a bit more, I think, if we want to find suitable anchorage. I’d rather it be in here,” Neville said, pointing to an area above the toe of the boot-shaped island, “rather than halfway along the west side of this long thing.”

  I wonder if it will be so easy to escape the Frenchman. It wouldn’t if I were captain of the corvette – unless I were in a great hurry. We’d best keep a sharp eye.

  “I agree,” Master Carstens said. “Mister Vondran, get a man in the chains with a lead. Four fathoms will do; and leave only the jib aloft.”