Post by Board Keeper on Sept 27, 2013 21:06:47 GMT -5
Cookie turns her head from the pot she's stirring, looking to the two huge lumps against the back wall. They are covered in tarpaulin and still not moving, so the diagnosis must have been correct. She turns back and tosses a cupful of salt into the huge kettle and a quarter as much black pepper. She is close to running out of spices and will be glad when they make it to the Indies for more. Maybe sooner, but she hasn't seen the mast of another ship in nearly a fortnight. She shakes her head. No one else has to deal with what she does. The captain still not come aboard, chaos reigning. She walks over to the remains from the surgery after the bloody doctor had at them, raising the edge of the cloth to see the stricken faces and their death masks. She did not know the one but Freddy there, he was a sweet one, left his mother way too young like Rosemarie did, good to the few women aboard and a strong worker. He complained of a chest ailment days ago, and she'd given him the last of the honey in some hot water to sooth it. Now he is dead, with a hole in his chest. She yanks off the tarp and pulls the heavy canvas aside, taking a scarf from her head and putting it over the other face so she does not have to look at it.
She yanks on Freddy and he does not move at first, heavier than she'd gathered. She takes a deep breath and does a loud heave ho, pulling him over the tarp part way. Two more good yanks and he is on the cloth and she covers him, rolls him up in it. With all her strength she starts to pull him towards the first ladder. She will bring him topside and toss him in with a few nice words. She will not watch and smell him stink up her galley for days. Too sad. He was a nice fella.
It takes the better part of an hour but she manages to get the body up onto the deck, the last leg of the journey his top half is over the ladder on the deck, and his legs hang over the ladder still. But she lies there a moment, to catch her breath. She'd used all the energy she had and now up here, can't imagine now dragging him to the edge and hoisting him not only up, but over.
...................
-Prison was a hard place to be. A place to be forgotten, where no one cares if you die and some actively seek that end. Overcrowded, understaffed, and more often than not a staff that is apathetic about your well being at best. Thousands of prisoners succomb to illness, most often due to the unsanitary conditions and the lack of decend food. There was so much rot, and so much filth that if she bothered to explain that she worked in the prisons of London, no one would take her for serious. Instead she merely explained that her father had been a physician and she was a philanthropist. It was easier to believe that a woman such as AnnaBelle was a rich young lady, living off of the inheritance of her fathers hard work and dedication. The fact was, AnnaBelle loved her work. The stench of death and rot no longer even caused her to wrinkle her nose. She could sew up a man with perfect neat stitches. Neater than any lady doing needlework. Except her needles sewed flesh. She handled body parts as if they were simply cups of tea at a garden party.
There was a good deal less freedom aboard a sailing vessel and yet she found that the patients were almost as challenging with their ailments. With prisoners, she had a vast array of sickness and while the numbers of the "unwanted" were limited, she had plenty to work with.
She turned from her cupboard and handed a mug to the wretched little powder monkey sitting on her bunk.
"Drink it all down tiny man" she crooned. "And come back after your supper for some more. Dont make me come find you.. you be here directly"
The little boy obediently drank the warm concoction and handed the mug back and then he darted out the door and back into the dark bowels of the ship with the other small boys that fetched cannon balls and gun powder in the darkest recesses of this floating prison.
Satisfied she wiped her hands on her apron and took inventory of her medicines. It was unacceptable that she had to ration out her treatments and she would have to discuss this with the QUartermaster.
................
Lazy donkeys. Several men on deck walk over her and around her, some in uniform, some in rags. It is one of the gunner's mates that finally puts a hand on her shoulder and gently just pushes her away from the body. She doesn't relinquish it immediately, feeling somehow responsible for Freddie's last moments.
"I ran out of ice. There simply isn't enough. It's not sanitary down there, I can't be expected.." she babbles, and he puts a dirty hand across her mouth to quiet her.
"Have got this ma'am," he says in a huge bass of a voice and when she looks up, she sees his beautiful caramel skin, nearly bronze from the work on the ship. She nods, but gets up and takes Freddie's feet as he is carried to the edge, though she knows that he has most of the weight of him.
"He was a good man. I'd like to say a few things before he goes over, okay?"
They get him to the edge and the huge gunner's mate who she still does not know the name of lifts up the body himself, and sets him against the railing, and waits a moment with respect, his huge face in sorrow for poor Fred who'd been his friend on board since the souths seas.
'M' name's Gerald mum," he says to her as she begins.
" Fred was a good man, a good friend to many, and he worked hard. I give his body to the sea to use as it sees fit, remembering that he suffered evil thieves, evil women, and hard work, and never gave up until his heart gave out. To the sea Freddie," she says, making it up as she goes along. She nods at Gerald and he heaves the body over. She finds herself looking over the side, to watch him disappear into the wake.
"Thank you. I felt he deserved that."
.................
She tucked a couple of tools into the pockets of her apron and left her cabin. All of the ladders to and from the deck were cumbersome in her skirts, however she would not stoop to the wearing of pants like many of the women aboard.
She descended deeper into the ship, travelling down passed the crewmens unslung hammocks and into the hold where the stench of unwashed bodies assaulted her senses. It was familiar and acrid and she moved through the initial wave of unpleasantness. Rows and rows of cages held some of the more dangerous prisoners. Others were shackled to the brig itself. She hitched up her skits and moved carefully among them, stopping to lift a chin here, and examine a leg there. She noted that many of the wrists and ankles of the criminals were chaffed and raw. She took note of the numbers of certain prisoners in the small book she carried, then moved on. She clucked her tongue as she lifted one man's head by his hair and peered at his face.
"oh..now, that is going to need attention" she murmured and jotted down his number.
With that she turned on her heel and left the brig, making her way up out of the depths. She would need some assistance with this one.
.............
Rosemarie starts back down, tucking the hem of her skirt up into her belt, revealing bloomers and men's boots below them. She takes the ladders carefully, lost in her thoughts. She should check on Henry, resting in her room, and she should sleep herself, up half the night scrubbing kettles and cutting fish into the broth from a huge catch at the end of the night. A bag of onions and some herbs from the last time they saw land make it palatable and it boils for most of the day without being watched. She comes upon it every few hours to check on the coals, then retire to her room, or go up top again. She is restless, not loving this leg of her journey. The Blade was home, this is merely a respite, and not a happy one. She makes her way down to the deck where her room is, only two decks above the hold where the prisoners are kept. It is half way down a ladder that she crosses paths with Annabelle, stopping for a moment on the step, then finishing her descent. She has few words for her, nodding to acknowlege her, but she does not know what to say or think. For the most part, she does not know which stories are true.
"I am out of ice, Miss. Th' ice for the body someone put in my galley. It will stink soon." The words stuck in her throat concern Freddie, if he should have died, and if it was deliberate.
.............
"Oh, wonderful" she said dryly and peers closer at the saucy girl with her underthings hanging out for all to see.
"I will need your assistance..what was your name..." she snaps her fingers a few times. "Ruby?..Tootsie?..." She lets her eyes fall over her and the look in her eyes.. was it disapproval?.. or malice.. "Trixie?..."
She ignored the girls comment about ice. Ice..really... it was not her concern any longer once the breath left the corpse. She could not be bothered with the issue of storing bodies. Which bodies? Ah..yes.. the two men she finished with early in the week. Concussion, and a fantastic disease fatality. She smiled, remembering the mans heart in her hands.
.................
Cookie watches her expression as she takes a good look at her, then listens to her have the gall to ask for her assisstance, no expect her assistance. Right. She waits for the woman to finish, so that she can bring to her what she had to say, to question her about Freddie's death and talk to her about finding a different place to store her cadavers.
Just looking at her makes her a little sick. Her pretty dresses. Is she dolled up for a garden party? She has no idea what it's like to live hard and work to live.
Then she watches Annabelle smile. Rosemarie's hand swings out before she even thinks twice, to land palm open upon the doctor's face. "Annabelle. Such a pretty name for such an evil creature."
................
Oh. Well then. The flippant little rental unit was feisty. The slap stung across her face and her head snapped to the side. Slowly, she returned her gaze to the little tramp. She stepped closer to her and the cold calm fell about her countenance.
"I am not certain what the officers of this vessel will do to trollops who strike their surgeons. But i do recall a deckhand being flogged for simply not saluting. Now..you are going to assist me. You will play the good little nurse and you will help me save the life of one of those miserable cretans below deck. And then, if you do a very good job of it, i will not report your assault to the Quartermaster...or the bosun, or whoever else is in charge of putting the cat to the backs of little rental units like yourself."
She stepped back from her then and handed her a piece of paper.
"Have someone bring this prisoner up to the top deck. Make sure he is shackled for safety. Then bring hot water and clean linens. CLEAN linens..i wont have infection rotting away the rest of this ....cargo."
She turned away from the impudent tramp and started for her cabin.
"If you do not make haste, the boy will die and i will hold you responsible."
................
Her eyes are like ice. She knows that she is immune to the ministrations of the quartermaster and anyone over or below him. But she does not argue. She knows how it is on the ship. Everyone helps when help is needed, especially this ship, which has not the crew it needs.
"And then you will tell me what of the heart that was once beating in Freddie's chest. That is what you will have to talk about after this work is done. I saw him. There was a hole there, a deep crevice where the heart belongs."
She turns around and goes up on deck to find Gerald to help her. She has nothing more to say to that wretched woman, who dares speak to her as if she is in charge.
...................
Certainly the rental unit wasnt interested in surgery. What could possibly be of interest in the heart of that man. She shakes her head though and returns to collect her surgery tools. This wretched ship was under stocked for her work and it was getting to be a bit tedious.
Laudenum was becoming scarce. But she couldnt perform this procedure without it, so she reluctantly took the last of it and tucked it in her apron.
It was slow going, getting her tools up to the deck but without the bright light she would be hindered. As she hurried past several deckhands she called out to someone to bring her a chair, any kind of chair would do, but preferably one with a high back. She thanked the crewman kindly for his assistance as she came up into the sunshine.
After surveying the deck carefully she chose just the right place and turned set up the chair in the spot that would afford her the best light without hindering her vision.
Then she lay out her tools on a over turned keg and checked each item for its condition. She sent a boy off for some rum and she washed her hands with some water from the clean drinking water. Carefully dipping out several ladles into a rag and scrubbing her hands. Mentaly she went through the procedure in her head. She'd performed it several times at the prison, however the conditions on the ship were less than ideal. Even with the lack of sanitation in a prison, she still had access to as many supplies as she needed. Here she made due with whatever she found.
............
First she goes to her room to find a linen sheet she has hidden that will do for bandages. She reaches into her trunk and takes out a bottle of an unknown liquid that she puts under one arm.
"Henry, I am going down into the hold to help the surgeon. I need to bring clean water and clothes and I have no idea how gruesome it is going to be but I will be down there for awhile probably. She sounded serious. Then again, she's mad as a hatter and always sounds serious. Wench." The last word under her breath as she grabs her things to go. " Come if you are able to help, otherwise you know where to find me if you need something."
She finds Gerald and sends him to the galley for the boiled water. HOw they will get that down a ladder is beyond her but if anyone can do it, he can, and maybe he'll grab some help on the way. As quickly as she is able, Rosemarie makes her way down to the hold. She wants nothing to do with the woman, but she knows about duty, and will help if she can.
"Cloth, very clean, and this," she holds up the glass jar, "My own concoction. Something like rum. Something to soothe the spirit or clean if it is needed."
.....................
Annabelle waited for the Prisoner to be brought up to the deck. She made sure he was secured to the chair.
She pulled out a pair of scissors and handed them to Cookie.
"Cut away all of the hair that hangs into his eyes. Then clean his eye area very carefully. I am going to remove that eye before the infection spreads to the rest of his body."
She did not wwait for a reply or a question. Instead she carefully mixed up some laudenum in a cup of rum and helped the delirious man drink the whole cup. She was careful not to spill any on the man and used her apron to gently wipe his mouth.
"The eye is resiliant" she murmured. "If it comes out neatly, and the area cleaned and kept clean..its possible that his life will not be wasted."
She was speaking to herself more than anyone else as she carefully wiped down her scalpel.
'I need you to keep my work area clean, girl." she whispered. "Wash your hands and keep his head still. Use some clean linen to wipe away any fluids. I need to be careful, but i do not wish to dawdle. I am low on Laudenum and i hope it is enough to keep hm quiet and sleeping. I want him to still be asleep when i sew the socket closet. Can you do that for him?"
...............
Cookie takes the scissors silently and nods. She does not want to witness this, but she has seen worse on this ship, and on the other, atrocities that make the blood chill to ice. She begins cutting the man's hair where it hangs into his eyes. When she is satisfied with that, she washes her hands and takes up the cloth, ripping off a piece and getting it wet. She pours her drink over the cloth as well, to sterilize and starts to gently clean the area. She was shocked at first to find him bound to the chair but now she understands why, to keep him still. A lady wouldn't think so much of a gentleman with a patch over one eye were she to view the gaping hole beneath it.
"It is clean. I cook, and I know how to be clean. You need not say it again." But her voice is quiet. She knows the difference between duty and what took place there on the ladder. She will not interfere , and will help where she is able, eyeing the area and seeing where she can stand so that she is a help but does not have to watch the eye being cut out. She kicks a bucket closer to the area, not wanting to touch it. She scoots it close to the chair, a place to put anything from the man that one does not want to....keep.
...............
"You will need to leave your insolence behind you girl. If i had the supplies i needed i would not have to make use of a ...cook. However i do not have the luxury of a staff. Therefore you will have to suffice and therefore you will have to listen to the instruction as i give it. Clean in a surgery is not the same as clean in a kitchen. If you are above instruction step aside and i will ask a deck hand to assist."
She didnt wait for Cookie to make a choice. Instead she took her hand and placed it just above the eye.
"Keep the cloth here. I am going to tip his head back so that i can keep the fluid out of his face as much as possible. He has chafing about his neck and i dont want infection in there. Be very careful, he may feel some pain and i need you to hold onto his head. Be gentle with him. He does not understand what is happening. It isnt his fault."
WIthout further instruction, she picked up an silver spoon and used it to slip in beneath the protruding and destroyed eyeball and set to work. She was quick and agile with he scalpel and the ruined eye gave up its socket as well as its gore, but AnnaBelle did not flinch but rather she clipped the eye from its socket and set it quickly aside in a rag. Then quickly cleaned the socket murmuring softly to the man as she worked.
"Im going to have to stitch it loosely, the infection will need to drain. Its going to swell up." Annabelle said as she took up her sutures.
"I wonder if the powers that be will allow me to keep this one out of the hold while he heals..I dont think i trust the conditions below and if fever sets in he is a dead man" Once more she spoke half to herself.
...........
"The only reason I do not take you apart right here is because of the duty before us. It would do you well to stop talking except where it has t' do with the cuttin' you are about to do." Her voice is quiet, resolute. She does everything Annabelle tells her to do, without flinching, though her insides churn and threaten to empty their contents. But she holds steady, even when the ship pitches and she takes the man in the chair shoulder to shoulder and holds him still there until it is safe again to continue. She holds the clean rag where she is told to and watches with amazement at the skill of the woman. She really does know what she is doing. And she does it quickly, so quickly that Cookie does not look away.
"Is the run gone? My own will also help him sleep if the rest is finished."
She listens, learning about infection and how it must drain. The girl makes her want to strangle her, even when she does not speak. Something about her prim ways and clothed like an aristocrat. It gets under Cookie's skin.
"And I have more linen as well, if needed, though it will be a long voyage, and many others to be sure will need help along the way." She looks at her. "You are very good. Cleanly and sure. And the stitches, better than my own on my gowns."
.............................
-Annabelle makes note to discuss the threats to her person with the officers of the ship. While she is up to her wrists in vitreous fluids however she chooses to ignore the little tramps outburst and carefully finishes her stitching and very carefully probes the man's eye making sure there is room for leakage. Then she pads the area with linen cloths and wraps his head with extra linens.
"I was trained in London by a prominent surgeon." she explained absently. "He taught me to be precise and to be perfect. I was no fun at parties to be sure, a Lady does not discuss infection and pus."
She points to the mans exposed neck and reaches for a wash cloth to cleanse the area.
"If we must, we will have to collect extra from the women on board. I can make due with only one petticoat. If we boil the used linens we can re use some of them. Simple infections can kill a man without the proper care. I dont suppose we can convince the QuarterMaster to give extra stew to a sick man? Are we in agreement on sneaking him a bit extra if needs be?"
..............
Quartermaster Engal
"Whether or not the quartermaster decides the man is fit enough to deserve an extras portion should be the question...has the man pulled his weight on board...will he be able to continue to preform his duties once well." He watches again, making himself known.
"I'd not want to waste portions on someone that would be more fit as bait than labor."
......................
She yanks on Freddy and he does not move at first, heavier than she'd gathered. She takes a deep breath and does a loud heave ho, pulling him over the tarp part way. Two more good yanks and he is on the cloth and she covers him, rolls him up in it. With all her strength she starts to pull him towards the first ladder. She will bring him topside and toss him in with a few nice words. She will not watch and smell him stink up her galley for days. Too sad. He was a nice fella.
It takes the better part of an hour but she manages to get the body up onto the deck, the last leg of the journey his top half is over the ladder on the deck, and his legs hang over the ladder still. But she lies there a moment, to catch her breath. She'd used all the energy she had and now up here, can't imagine now dragging him to the edge and hoisting him not only up, but over.
...................
-Prison was a hard place to be. A place to be forgotten, where no one cares if you die and some actively seek that end. Overcrowded, understaffed, and more often than not a staff that is apathetic about your well being at best. Thousands of prisoners succomb to illness, most often due to the unsanitary conditions and the lack of decend food. There was so much rot, and so much filth that if she bothered to explain that she worked in the prisons of London, no one would take her for serious. Instead she merely explained that her father had been a physician and she was a philanthropist. It was easier to believe that a woman such as AnnaBelle was a rich young lady, living off of the inheritance of her fathers hard work and dedication. The fact was, AnnaBelle loved her work. The stench of death and rot no longer even caused her to wrinkle her nose. She could sew up a man with perfect neat stitches. Neater than any lady doing needlework. Except her needles sewed flesh. She handled body parts as if they were simply cups of tea at a garden party.
There was a good deal less freedom aboard a sailing vessel and yet she found that the patients were almost as challenging with their ailments. With prisoners, she had a vast array of sickness and while the numbers of the "unwanted" were limited, she had plenty to work with.
She turned from her cupboard and handed a mug to the wretched little powder monkey sitting on her bunk.
"Drink it all down tiny man" she crooned. "And come back after your supper for some more. Dont make me come find you.. you be here directly"
The little boy obediently drank the warm concoction and handed the mug back and then he darted out the door and back into the dark bowels of the ship with the other small boys that fetched cannon balls and gun powder in the darkest recesses of this floating prison.
Satisfied she wiped her hands on her apron and took inventory of her medicines. It was unacceptable that she had to ration out her treatments and she would have to discuss this with the QUartermaster.
................
Lazy donkeys. Several men on deck walk over her and around her, some in uniform, some in rags. It is one of the gunner's mates that finally puts a hand on her shoulder and gently just pushes her away from the body. She doesn't relinquish it immediately, feeling somehow responsible for Freddie's last moments.
"I ran out of ice. There simply isn't enough. It's not sanitary down there, I can't be expected.." she babbles, and he puts a dirty hand across her mouth to quiet her.
"Have got this ma'am," he says in a huge bass of a voice and when she looks up, she sees his beautiful caramel skin, nearly bronze from the work on the ship. She nods, but gets up and takes Freddie's feet as he is carried to the edge, though she knows that he has most of the weight of him.
"He was a good man. I'd like to say a few things before he goes over, okay?"
They get him to the edge and the huge gunner's mate who she still does not know the name of lifts up the body himself, and sets him against the railing, and waits a moment with respect, his huge face in sorrow for poor Fred who'd been his friend on board since the souths seas.
'M' name's Gerald mum," he says to her as she begins.
" Fred was a good man, a good friend to many, and he worked hard. I give his body to the sea to use as it sees fit, remembering that he suffered evil thieves, evil women, and hard work, and never gave up until his heart gave out. To the sea Freddie," she says, making it up as she goes along. She nods at Gerald and he heaves the body over. She finds herself looking over the side, to watch him disappear into the wake.
"Thank you. I felt he deserved that."
.................
She tucked a couple of tools into the pockets of her apron and left her cabin. All of the ladders to and from the deck were cumbersome in her skirts, however she would not stoop to the wearing of pants like many of the women aboard.
She descended deeper into the ship, travelling down passed the crewmens unslung hammocks and into the hold where the stench of unwashed bodies assaulted her senses. It was familiar and acrid and she moved through the initial wave of unpleasantness. Rows and rows of cages held some of the more dangerous prisoners. Others were shackled to the brig itself. She hitched up her skits and moved carefully among them, stopping to lift a chin here, and examine a leg there. She noted that many of the wrists and ankles of the criminals were chaffed and raw. She took note of the numbers of certain prisoners in the small book she carried, then moved on. She clucked her tongue as she lifted one man's head by his hair and peered at his face.
"oh..now, that is going to need attention" she murmured and jotted down his number.
With that she turned on her heel and left the brig, making her way up out of the depths. She would need some assistance with this one.
.............
Rosemarie starts back down, tucking the hem of her skirt up into her belt, revealing bloomers and men's boots below them. She takes the ladders carefully, lost in her thoughts. She should check on Henry, resting in her room, and she should sleep herself, up half the night scrubbing kettles and cutting fish into the broth from a huge catch at the end of the night. A bag of onions and some herbs from the last time they saw land make it palatable and it boils for most of the day without being watched. She comes upon it every few hours to check on the coals, then retire to her room, or go up top again. She is restless, not loving this leg of her journey. The Blade was home, this is merely a respite, and not a happy one. She makes her way down to the deck where her room is, only two decks above the hold where the prisoners are kept. It is half way down a ladder that she crosses paths with Annabelle, stopping for a moment on the step, then finishing her descent. She has few words for her, nodding to acknowlege her, but she does not know what to say or think. For the most part, she does not know which stories are true.
"I am out of ice, Miss. Th' ice for the body someone put in my galley. It will stink soon." The words stuck in her throat concern Freddie, if he should have died, and if it was deliberate.
.............
"Oh, wonderful" she said dryly and peers closer at the saucy girl with her underthings hanging out for all to see.
"I will need your assistance..what was your name..." she snaps her fingers a few times. "Ruby?..Tootsie?..." She lets her eyes fall over her and the look in her eyes.. was it disapproval?.. or malice.. "Trixie?..."
She ignored the girls comment about ice. Ice..really... it was not her concern any longer once the breath left the corpse. She could not be bothered with the issue of storing bodies. Which bodies? Ah..yes.. the two men she finished with early in the week. Concussion, and a fantastic disease fatality. She smiled, remembering the mans heart in her hands.
.................
Cookie watches her expression as she takes a good look at her, then listens to her have the gall to ask for her assisstance, no expect her assistance. Right. She waits for the woman to finish, so that she can bring to her what she had to say, to question her about Freddie's death and talk to her about finding a different place to store her cadavers.
Just looking at her makes her a little sick. Her pretty dresses. Is she dolled up for a garden party? She has no idea what it's like to live hard and work to live.
Then she watches Annabelle smile. Rosemarie's hand swings out before she even thinks twice, to land palm open upon the doctor's face. "Annabelle. Such a pretty name for such an evil creature."
................
Oh. Well then. The flippant little rental unit was feisty. The slap stung across her face and her head snapped to the side. Slowly, she returned her gaze to the little tramp. She stepped closer to her and the cold calm fell about her countenance.
"I am not certain what the officers of this vessel will do to trollops who strike their surgeons. But i do recall a deckhand being flogged for simply not saluting. Now..you are going to assist me. You will play the good little nurse and you will help me save the life of one of those miserable cretans below deck. And then, if you do a very good job of it, i will not report your assault to the Quartermaster...or the bosun, or whoever else is in charge of putting the cat to the backs of little rental units like yourself."
She stepped back from her then and handed her a piece of paper.
"Have someone bring this prisoner up to the top deck. Make sure he is shackled for safety. Then bring hot water and clean linens. CLEAN linens..i wont have infection rotting away the rest of this ....cargo."
She turned away from the impudent tramp and started for her cabin.
"If you do not make haste, the boy will die and i will hold you responsible."
................
Her eyes are like ice. She knows that she is immune to the ministrations of the quartermaster and anyone over or below him. But she does not argue. She knows how it is on the ship. Everyone helps when help is needed, especially this ship, which has not the crew it needs.
"And then you will tell me what of the heart that was once beating in Freddie's chest. That is what you will have to talk about after this work is done. I saw him. There was a hole there, a deep crevice where the heart belongs."
She turns around and goes up on deck to find Gerald to help her. She has nothing more to say to that wretched woman, who dares speak to her as if she is in charge.
...................
Certainly the rental unit wasnt interested in surgery. What could possibly be of interest in the heart of that man. She shakes her head though and returns to collect her surgery tools. This wretched ship was under stocked for her work and it was getting to be a bit tedious.
Laudenum was becoming scarce. But she couldnt perform this procedure without it, so she reluctantly took the last of it and tucked it in her apron.
It was slow going, getting her tools up to the deck but without the bright light she would be hindered. As she hurried past several deckhands she called out to someone to bring her a chair, any kind of chair would do, but preferably one with a high back. She thanked the crewman kindly for his assistance as she came up into the sunshine.
After surveying the deck carefully she chose just the right place and turned set up the chair in the spot that would afford her the best light without hindering her vision.
Then she lay out her tools on a over turned keg and checked each item for its condition. She sent a boy off for some rum and she washed her hands with some water from the clean drinking water. Carefully dipping out several ladles into a rag and scrubbing her hands. Mentaly she went through the procedure in her head. She'd performed it several times at the prison, however the conditions on the ship were less than ideal. Even with the lack of sanitation in a prison, she still had access to as many supplies as she needed. Here she made due with whatever she found.
............
First she goes to her room to find a linen sheet she has hidden that will do for bandages. She reaches into her trunk and takes out a bottle of an unknown liquid that she puts under one arm.
"Henry, I am going down into the hold to help the surgeon. I need to bring clean water and clothes and I have no idea how gruesome it is going to be but I will be down there for awhile probably. She sounded serious. Then again, she's mad as a hatter and always sounds serious. Wench." The last word under her breath as she grabs her things to go. " Come if you are able to help, otherwise you know where to find me if you need something."
She finds Gerald and sends him to the galley for the boiled water. HOw they will get that down a ladder is beyond her but if anyone can do it, he can, and maybe he'll grab some help on the way. As quickly as she is able, Rosemarie makes her way down to the hold. She wants nothing to do with the woman, but she knows about duty, and will help if she can.
"Cloth, very clean, and this," she holds up the glass jar, "My own concoction. Something like rum. Something to soothe the spirit or clean if it is needed."
.....................
Annabelle waited for the Prisoner to be brought up to the deck. She made sure he was secured to the chair.
She pulled out a pair of scissors and handed them to Cookie.
"Cut away all of the hair that hangs into his eyes. Then clean his eye area very carefully. I am going to remove that eye before the infection spreads to the rest of his body."
She did not wwait for a reply or a question. Instead she carefully mixed up some laudenum in a cup of rum and helped the delirious man drink the whole cup. She was careful not to spill any on the man and used her apron to gently wipe his mouth.
"The eye is resiliant" she murmured. "If it comes out neatly, and the area cleaned and kept clean..its possible that his life will not be wasted."
She was speaking to herself more than anyone else as she carefully wiped down her scalpel.
'I need you to keep my work area clean, girl." she whispered. "Wash your hands and keep his head still. Use some clean linen to wipe away any fluids. I need to be careful, but i do not wish to dawdle. I am low on Laudenum and i hope it is enough to keep hm quiet and sleeping. I want him to still be asleep when i sew the socket closet. Can you do that for him?"
...............
Cookie takes the scissors silently and nods. She does not want to witness this, but she has seen worse on this ship, and on the other, atrocities that make the blood chill to ice. She begins cutting the man's hair where it hangs into his eyes. When she is satisfied with that, she washes her hands and takes up the cloth, ripping off a piece and getting it wet. She pours her drink over the cloth as well, to sterilize and starts to gently clean the area. She was shocked at first to find him bound to the chair but now she understands why, to keep him still. A lady wouldn't think so much of a gentleman with a patch over one eye were she to view the gaping hole beneath it.
"It is clean. I cook, and I know how to be clean. You need not say it again." But her voice is quiet. She knows the difference between duty and what took place there on the ladder. She will not interfere , and will help where she is able, eyeing the area and seeing where she can stand so that she is a help but does not have to watch the eye being cut out. She kicks a bucket closer to the area, not wanting to touch it. She scoots it close to the chair, a place to put anything from the man that one does not want to....keep.
...............
"You will need to leave your insolence behind you girl. If i had the supplies i needed i would not have to make use of a ...cook. However i do not have the luxury of a staff. Therefore you will have to suffice and therefore you will have to listen to the instruction as i give it. Clean in a surgery is not the same as clean in a kitchen. If you are above instruction step aside and i will ask a deck hand to assist."
She didnt wait for Cookie to make a choice. Instead she took her hand and placed it just above the eye.
"Keep the cloth here. I am going to tip his head back so that i can keep the fluid out of his face as much as possible. He has chafing about his neck and i dont want infection in there. Be very careful, he may feel some pain and i need you to hold onto his head. Be gentle with him. He does not understand what is happening. It isnt his fault."
WIthout further instruction, she picked up an silver spoon and used it to slip in beneath the protruding and destroyed eyeball and set to work. She was quick and agile with he scalpel and the ruined eye gave up its socket as well as its gore, but AnnaBelle did not flinch but rather she clipped the eye from its socket and set it quickly aside in a rag. Then quickly cleaned the socket murmuring softly to the man as she worked.
"Im going to have to stitch it loosely, the infection will need to drain. Its going to swell up." Annabelle said as she took up her sutures.
"I wonder if the powers that be will allow me to keep this one out of the hold while he heals..I dont think i trust the conditions below and if fever sets in he is a dead man" Once more she spoke half to herself.
...........
"The only reason I do not take you apart right here is because of the duty before us. It would do you well to stop talking except where it has t' do with the cuttin' you are about to do." Her voice is quiet, resolute. She does everything Annabelle tells her to do, without flinching, though her insides churn and threaten to empty their contents. But she holds steady, even when the ship pitches and she takes the man in the chair shoulder to shoulder and holds him still there until it is safe again to continue. She holds the clean rag where she is told to and watches with amazement at the skill of the woman. She really does know what she is doing. And she does it quickly, so quickly that Cookie does not look away.
"Is the run gone? My own will also help him sleep if the rest is finished."
She listens, learning about infection and how it must drain. The girl makes her want to strangle her, even when she does not speak. Something about her prim ways and clothed like an aristocrat. It gets under Cookie's skin.
"And I have more linen as well, if needed, though it will be a long voyage, and many others to be sure will need help along the way." She looks at her. "You are very good. Cleanly and sure. And the stitches, better than my own on my gowns."
.............................
-Annabelle makes note to discuss the threats to her person with the officers of the ship. While she is up to her wrists in vitreous fluids however she chooses to ignore the little tramps outburst and carefully finishes her stitching and very carefully probes the man's eye making sure there is room for leakage. Then she pads the area with linen cloths and wraps his head with extra linens.
"I was trained in London by a prominent surgeon." she explained absently. "He taught me to be precise and to be perfect. I was no fun at parties to be sure, a Lady does not discuss infection and pus."
She points to the mans exposed neck and reaches for a wash cloth to cleanse the area.
"If we must, we will have to collect extra from the women on board. I can make due with only one petticoat. If we boil the used linens we can re use some of them. Simple infections can kill a man without the proper care. I dont suppose we can convince the QuarterMaster to give extra stew to a sick man? Are we in agreement on sneaking him a bit extra if needs be?"
..............
Quartermaster Engal
"Whether or not the quartermaster decides the man is fit enough to deserve an extras portion should be the question...has the man pulled his weight on board...will he be able to continue to preform his duties once well." He watches again, making himself known.
"I'd not want to waste portions on someone that would be more fit as bait than labor."
......................