Crozier's Operation

"Carefully, now." Peter scrambled up the old stonework, with Spencer beside him. "Hand him up to us.... Slowly..."

Chase managed to keep his limbs from shaking only through pure force of will. This wasn't bloody happening. Not to Barrow. He helped lift Mister Crozier up from the boat, feeling desperately impatient to get the surgeon settled on solid ground. Crozier had spoken aloud, just a moment ago, which meant he must be all right. The same couldn't be said for Billy.

"C'mon, let's get Barrow up next," Chase urged, glancing anxiously back at the boat. Should've gotten him ashore first!

In a moment Chase was at his side, and Billy looked up at him with gratitude and relief. Thank God Chase was here. Chase would take care of everything. "Cob," he whispered with a smile before coughing up more blood. It was difficult to speak, but he wanted Chase to understand him. Surely the force of his will would make Chase understand what he was trying to communicate. "I'm sorry. Tell cap..."

He had failed at a good many things in his time, but he had never failed in his duty as coxswain to bring the boat back safe. Someone else would do it now. (What a bother they would have!) He was sorry, so sorry to let the captain down like this, but it couldn't be helped. Still and all, he wanted the captain to know that he had done his best, and that he was sorry it had not been good enough. "Tell him!" he said urgently, grasping Chase's arm.

If Barrow died, Chase thought, he'd kill him for it. The topman glanced up at Mister Yates as he, Preddie, and Williams carefully lowered Barrow down to the ground.

" 'Old out a bit, mate, an' tell 'im yerself," Chase said, trying to sound cheerful. "Boat can't go no-place without the cox'n."

He'd never seen anybody survive after coughing up as much blood as Barrow had, though. Chase bit his lip and added softly, "I'll tell 'im."

Stephen pointed to two of the sailors. "I wish for you to find moss, or lichen, and cobwebs - as much as you can find. Return here by sunset." Crozier had fallen asleep again; Stephen knelt besides Barrow. "Do not talk, now."

The two seamen didn't hesitate; Chase heard them scamper off but didn't look up to see which direction they'd gone in. Was that all Doctor Maturin was going to do for Barrow?

"What else're we gonna do, sar?" Chase asked, looking up at Maturin with a worried frown.

Stephen gestured for Chase to walk away from Barrow with him.

Chase got to his feet from where he'd been kneeling, made uneasy by Maturin's gesture.

"Sar?"

Stephen checked to make sure they were out of eavesdropping range. "What is your name?"

"Cob Chase, sar," Chase answered.

"Cob Chase, I will tell you the truth, now. Barrow is likely to die. The shot has perforated the lung, just here." He pointed to his own chest. "If he survives the initial injury, it is likely to become infected; I have seen very few men survive that. One way to draw out the infection is a poultice of cobwebs, paraffin oil and moss. If he survives for long enough to bring him back to the ship, then I will not be able to make this poultice, so I have asked your comrades to find the ingredients now. But I doubt he will survive long enough for the poultice to be considered. I am very sorry."

Chase tried to keep from looking stricken. He glanced back at Barrow, who was being fussed over by Jack Young. He didn't want to believe Maturin, but the man was a bleeding physician. If he didn't think Barrow could be saved...

"There's gotta be somethin' else, sar," Chase said pleadingly. Butcher and Spencer had been gone barely four minutes but it already felt as though they'd been gone too long. "It's Barrow, sar, 'e can't die. What'll the Cap'n do without 'im?"

What would the rest of the crew do without him?

"If he survives a little while... But at the moment there is nothing I can do. I am so sorry."

"But..." Chase bit his lip and looked down at his bare feet. "I'll send some other lads out. Can't trust Spencer and Butcher to find they own shoes, really."

It was more to reassure himself than anything else. He didn't want to believe Barrow was about to die.

"Should I tell the lads, sar?"

"How do you think they will take it? We are not safe yet."

This was far too much gloom and seriousness than Chase felt he could handle, but he couldn't think of anything that might lighten the situation even a little.

"Probably not well, sar," Chase admitted. "Barrow's mates with near everybody."

"Those who have seen this kind of wound before will probably have come to the same conclusion that I have. We have more wounded; I must see to them. Please try to make Barrow as comfortable as possible - he will probably want water. You may have a canteen." It would leave precious little for the rest of them, with another for the two shot Marines, but if they were stranded for that long then two canteens would not help them overmuch; they would have to refill them in any case.

"Aye sar," Chase said, feeling defeated. He couldn't muster much concern for the two wounded Marines when Barrow was in such a bad state. Shoulders slumping, he turned back toward the rest of the boat-crew. It felt unnatural to be in a position where he had to give orders, yet that was precisely where he was.

"Williams, grab that canteen there. It's fer Barrow. Rest of ya, rig up the sail again, like it was afore. Cox'n needs some shade."

Stephen did not feel defeated, or sad, or angry. He felt nothing, as though some essential part of him had decided to move on to better things. It was as though he had been presented a choice between unbearable pain and total absence, and while he was looking the other way someone had chosen the chilling void on his behalf.

He went to the Marines.

Torn between looking after those two marines, staring helpslessly at Barrow and grinning at Dr Crozier, m'Clure was feeling somewhat dazed as he stepped ashore again. He didn't understand what the cobwebs were for, assured that Barrow was going to die, coughing up blood as he was.
Grimly he pressed the cloth against the mans mouth again, whiping away the tell-tale traces of blood, telling him again he wasn't to speak.

Glancing up again he saw Dr maturin returning, going over ot the marines. Diffidently he shifted his attention there, following the Doctors footsteps. "What would yer have me do, sir?"

The defence of their little group and its perilous position on the old jetty was for Sergeant Quinn, and he did not need Peter's advice. Nor did Dr Maturin, steadily looking after the wounded, as pale himself as any one of them. Peter's job was, he decided, more practical. He set off to explore, to find what if anything they could do here. It did not take him long to walk round what was, effectively, an island. There were the ruins of a farm buiklding of some kind, so old as to be useless for shelter. There was the rim of an old well, but it stank of river ooze and salt, and would offer nothing for them. And there were trees, old and battered. At least the fallen branches, many of them rotten, would provide wood for a fire.

And the Terpsichore would not leave them here so long that they need worry about that, surely! He came back to see the doctor and to ask what he could do, but the doctor was busy, and Peter sat on the old stone dock, and looked out to the black outline of the Cape, round which the frigate would surely appear.

"Look after Barrow, if you please, and I would be grateful if you could also keep a watch on Mister Crozier," Stephen said to M'Clure. He walked on a little way and knelt next to the Marine named Joyse. "I am just checking if the bleeding has stopped, Private Joyse."

"Aye, sir." m'clure retraced his steps to glance down at Barrow before kneeling at Dr Croziers head. Again he checked the mans pulse- stronger than the last time he had done so, before their second boat trip- but was at some loss as to what to do. dr Maturin had talked to him, but the line of questioning hadn't been appreciated. It was with some releif that he remembered the laudanum which had been poured into the man.
Asleep, then, and probably feeling better for it.

Dully he returned to Barrow. "Yer know Dr Maturin has sent some of yer mates off ter find things fer him ter help yer with..." he muttered, pressing a hand to the mans wrist to find a pulse there, still.

Chase glared balefully at M'Clure. "Doctor says 'e ain't s'posed to talk," the topman said gruffly.

Nearby, Williams and Young had shed their jackets and were carefully folding them up to use as cushions for Barrow.

M'Clure glanced at Chase, "I know that." he replied, softly. He'd seen Chase walk of with Dr Maturin, but wasn't sure how much he'd been told. Though from the stare he was getting he thought it likely to have been all bad news.

Quietly he shifted a little so Williams and Young had more space, helping them to raise Barrow more. it wasn't as if there was any point in keeping him seperate from them, so long as Barrow didn't talk.