Fever 1793 (7 page)

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I forced myself back to the bed. Mother panted heavily.

"Everything will be fine," I said as I sponged her face clean. "Just lay still."

Her eyes opened and I smiled at her. Tears pooled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. She opened her cracked lips.

"Go ... away," she whispered. "Leave me."

I recoiled as she leaned over the bed and retched a foul-smelling black fluid onto the floor.

"Oh, stop, please stop," I begged.

"Leave me!" Mother shouted in a ragged voice. "Leave me, go!"

I tried to help her back onto her pillows, but she pushed me away and shook her head.

"Go away!" she repeated.

I ran sobbing to the window. Breathing in the fresh air helped calm my stomach. The houses along the street were shuttered tight and dark. I had to help her. She was depending on me.

"Let me clean you up," I began as I turned away from the window. "You'll feel better in a clean shift. Maybe a bath. Would you like a bath again?"

She was breathing as fast and heavy as a runaway horse. Her hand fumbled along the mucky sheet until it found the small book of Psalms I had dropped.

"I'll put some water on to boil."

Mother threw the book weakly at my head.

"Out," she croaked. "Don't want you sick. Go away!"

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CHAPTER TEN

September 6th, 1793

The patient is to be placed in a large empty

tub, and two buckets full of water, of the
temperature 75 or 80 degrees Fahrenheit's

thermometer,... are to be thrown on him.

-Dr. Adam Kuhn

Philadelphia, 1793

Eliza shook my shoulder. I woke at once, with a sharp breath. Outside the sky was turning pale gold. Mockingbirds were singing. Mother slept, her skin the color of an old weathered barn. At least she was alive.

"Your grandfather and I have found help," Eliza whispered. "Dr. Kerr. He's educated, from Scotland."

Dr. Kerr nodded to me. He was a small man wearing a black coat and carrying a small medical case. He set the case on the floor and opened Mother's eyelids with his fingers. She slept on.

"Where's Grandfather?" I asked.

"Waiting downstairs," Eliza said.

"How was she in the night?" Dr. Kerr asked as he started his examination.

"I did everything Mr. Rowley instructed. I bathed her and gave her tea. I tried to keep the bedclothes clean, but . . . we'll wash today. She finally slept after midnight. Do you think she looks better? She feels a little cooler to me. Mr. Rowley said it was just an autumnal fever, nothing serious."

Eliza pulled me close to her. "Shhh," she said gently.

Dr. Kerr rose off the bed. "Damned fool," he growled.

"Excuse me?" I said.

"Rowley, the imposter. Autumnal fever indeed. Your mother has yellow fever. There's no doubt at all."

Yellow fever.

My mouth moved, but I could not breathe. It made no sense. Mother wouldn't allow it. She had given birth to me in the morning and cooked supper for ten that night. She survived the British occupation while my father fought with Washington's troops. Mother would beat back illness with a broom.

A loud moan interrupted my thoughts. Dr. Kerr laid his fingers on Mother's wrist.

"Her pulse is fast and strong," he said. "This is the crisis. She must be bled."

Dear God. "Won't that weaken her more?" I asked.

"Bunkum," Dr. Kerr said angrily. "Dr. Rush has

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proven that bleeding is the only way to save a patient this close to the grave."

"But she could mend yet," Eliza said.

Dr. Kerr took a small lancet from his bag. It glinted in the sunlight. He handed me a basin and told Eliza to hold Mother's shoulders. I felt faint.

"Her pulse is full, quick, and tense," he said, pushing up Mother's sleeve. "Hold the basin right against her arm. The pestilence boils within her blood and must be drained."

I flinched as the lancet flashed and blood from Mother's arm poured into the basin. Dr. Kerr handed me a second basin when the first was full. My stomach turned over, but I clenched my jaw and stood firm.

"There," he said finally. He bandaged the cut on her arm and rolled down her sleeve. Mother lay still and silent, but she was breathing. "That was ten ounces of blood. I'll come back tomorrow to take another ten. She needs to purge the disease still in her stomach and bowels. She'll need ten grains of jalap and ten grains of calomel. It will be dirty work to care for her, but it should clean her system efficiently."

"But she's so pale," I said. "Can't the medicines wait a day or so?"

Mother finally roused. She blinked her eyes and pointed at me. "Get her out!" she whispered. "Out!" A cough choked off the rest of her words.

Doctor Kerr and Eliza struggled to calm her.

"Go wait in the kitchen, Mattie," Eliza said. "She

won't settle until you are gone. She doesn't want you here. She's afraid you'll get sick."

Dr. Kerr took me by the arm before I could protest. He led me down the stairs like a lamb on a string.

"She doesn't want you to see the worst. You can help down here. I'm sure Eliza would appreciate a cup of tea. Lucille is a strong woman. With God's mercy she will survive this peril."

Grandfather was waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs.

Dr. Kerr got right to the point. "Yellow fever, William. There's no doubt. I advise you send Matilda out of the city at once."

"What?" I asked.

Grandfather sat heavily in a kitchen chair. "Lucille has been wanting her out of town."

"No!" I stamped my foot on the floor. "You can't send me away! I need to be here-I need to help! You can't send me away."

Dr. Kerr frowned. "I understand, Matilda. These are difficult days for us all. Sensible people have turned mad overnight. They're rinsing their clothes in vinegar and wearing tarred ropes around their necks. This is no place for a young girl like you."

I wiped my eyes on my sleeve. "Why can't Mother come with me? Wouldn't it be better for her in the country air?"

"No town will let her in," explained Dr. Kerr. "They

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turn all fever victims away. Your cook can care for your mother. Your grandfather can travel with you. This is the best for all."

Grandfather tried to smile. "We'll make it an adventure, lass." He turned as Eliza came down the steps carrying filthy sheets.

"I've explained to Matilda that she'll be leaving," Dr. Kerr said.

"'Tis best," Eliza said.

"I advise you to hire a wagon as soon as possible," Dr. Kerr said. He picked up his medical case. "They're scarce as hen's teeth. Remember to tie a yellow cloth to the front railing. This coffeehouse is officially closed."

As he closed the door behind him, I started to argue. "We haven't heard from the Ludingtons! I can't turn up without an invitation. Let me stay one more day, Eliza. Grandfather, surely you understand!"

"We want to keep you safe, lass," Grandfather said as he pulled himself to his feet. He paused to cough, then put on his hat. "I'm off to find us a coach."

This could not be happening. They were sending me off, sending me away to strangers!

"You'll let me stay, won't you Eliza?"

Eliza swung the kettle over the fire to boil. "Mattie, you are like kin to me, as is your mother. I can't let you stay here. Lucille doesn't want it and neither do I."

Her face was grim and set in a way I had never seen before. No amount of cajoling would change her mind.

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"I'll pack a hamper of food for your trip," she said. She paused by the sideboard to pick something up. "I nearly forgot. This was by the front door when I came in. It's addressed to you."

"Who would send anything to me?"

The parcel was flat and as large as my hand. I fumbled with the brown paper, trying to unwrap it carefully so we could use the paper again.

Eliza looked over my shoulder and made an approving noise, "Um-um-um."

It was a painting, a vase full of delicate flowers, bright blue, lavender, and red carefully painted on a scrap of wood. The flowers looked alive, like they would move if a breeze stirred through the kitchen.

Eliza rummaged through the wrapping paper. "Here," she said. "He sent a note."

Mattie-I write you in haste. Master Peale is closing up the house with his family and assistants inside. To protect us from the fever. We have water from the well and food stored.

My thoughts race. These flowers are for you. Take good care, Mattie. I would not want you sick. We shall watch for balloons again, when this plague has passed.

N.B.

Morning came too quickly and it was time to leave.

"Mattie! The wagon is here!" Eliza called.

It was hard to tell which would collapse first, the

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wagon or the horse pulling it. The farmer and his wife sat up front, holding a baby with dried snot across its face. Grandfather rode in the back, waving triumphantly. Eliza eyed the horse with doubt.

"It's a beauty, isn't it?" he bellowed.

The horse stopped in front of the coffeehouse, puffing and wheezing. The farmer jumped down to load my valise and food hamper into the back of the wagon.

Grandfather headed into the house. "Be out in a tic," he promised. He was acting like we were headed for a lark instead of fleeing an epidemic. I shook my head. It wouldn't do to be angry.

I hugged Eliza one last time. She muttered a quiet blessing and tucked a lock of hair into my cap.

"You stay out there until two hard frosts," she warned. "Promise me that."

"Yes, Ma'am," I answered. "Thank you, Eliza. Thank you for everything. You've done so much ..." I couldn't choke out anything else.

She hugged me tighter.

"Hush, child. I'm doing no more than your mother would do in my place. This is how the Lord wants us to treat each other. She'll be fine and we both know it. Don't worry about her. You take care of yourself."

She turned me around and gave me a shove toward the wagon.

"Thought you said the old man was coming," the farmer said as he tied down the valise.

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"Have patience," I said. "Here he comes."

Grandfather stepped onto the porch dressed in his regimental jacket, his sword buckled onto his belt, and King George on his shoulder.

He saluted.

"Captain William Farnsworth Cook, Pennsylvania Fifth Regiment, here to escort you beyond the lines of the dread and terrible enemy, Yellow Fever, Miss Matilda."

He clicked his boots together and offered his arm to me. Eliza laughed as she wiped her eyes with her apron. Grandfather helped me climb up into the wagon before hoisting himself aboard with a grunt. King George circled overhead and squawked. The farmer yelled, "Giyup!" and cracked the whip across the back of the horse.

And so I left home, in a manner quite unpredicted.

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CHAPTER ELEVEN

September th, 1793

Great numbers of the citizens have shut up their houses and fled into the country...

-Letter of Ebenezer Hazard Philadelphia, 1793

With only one half-starved horse pulling us, it took nearly an hour to be clear of the city line. The dry road was rutted from the wagons and carriages which had fled before us. The insects were vicious. I smacked them on my arms and legs until my skin stung. Grandfather took out his handkerchief and mopped sweat off his face and neck. I waved away a mosquito that buzzed in my ear.

"It's the smell of that baby," I said. "His drawers are full, and it's attracting every bug for miles."

Grandfather chuckled. The laughter caught in his throat and made him cough. I watched with alarm as his face reddened. I pounded his back until he raised his arm in protest.

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"I'm fine, child, I'm fine. No need to beat me senseless."

The farmer turned around in his seat and glared at them.

"He ain't sick, is he? I'll not have fever victims in my wagon."

"Take care you don't drive off the road. We're fine back here. Mind your horse," I snapped.

Grandfather raised an eyebrow.

"You're turning into a regular scold, Mattie Cook. You sound like your mother, ordering menfolk around."

"Some menfolk need ordering."

"That they do." He straightened his legs as best he could between the baskets and clothing bundles. "I propose we enjoy our carriage ride in the country. It would hardly be proper to remove my coat, but if I can beg my lady's indulgence, I will unfasten a button or two." His stiff fingers fumbled with the pewter buttons until they released and he could breathe with ease.

"There," he sighed. "That's better. It's time to review your soldiering lessons."

I groaned. From my crawling days, Grandfather had taught me all the tricks of the American and the British armies, and quite a few from the French. Again and again and again. It would do no good to argue. I was his captive.

"A soldier needs three things to fight," he continued. He held up three fingers and waited for my response.