by Kate Eastham
Once up on deck Greta took her to the side of the ship and told her to hold fast. Ada felt the vessel’s motion even more strongly here and there was a breeze that blew the fallen strands of hair away from her face and made her feel refreshed, alive. She looked up to see the sails of the ship billowing out as they glided over the water. Looking down over the side, she loved the way that the ship cut so cleanly through the water, the way that it rode the waves. She felt exhilarated, born again.
Still clinging to the side, she looked down the boat and saw a man with his back to her that she thought she recognized. Then her stomach squeezed tight as she looked again. The man she could see holding lightly to the side and chatting to one of the sailors was Frank – surely it was Frank.
She felt her heart beating fast and started to feel a bit sick again, telling herself that she was light-headed, she was seeing things. But when she looked back again, the young man had the same colour hair and the same build. She rubbed her eyes to make sure that she wasn’t seeing things but that just made them blurry, so she started to edge her way, hand over hand, closer to the young man.
When she was right up behind him, she waited for a moment before tapping him on the shoulder.
He turned and Ada held her breath, disappointment flooding through her. It wasn’t Frank. It was a young man with the same hair and same build but he had the sharp features of a very different face. He looked puzzled or worried and started to say, ‘Are you all right …?’ but she was already moving away, hand over hand back down the boat, muttering her apologies. She felt ridiculous and more than a bit heartbroken – just for a few minutes her heart had soared and she had really thought that it could be her brother. Now she felt like a fool. She glanced back and the young man was still looking in her direction but, thank goodness, was making no move to come down the deck towards her.
When she got back to the spot where Greta had left her, she leant over the side a little, gulping in air, trying to stop the grief hitting her hard in the belly like it had done over and over again since her grandfather died. Her knees went weak and she started to slump against the side of the ship. She was grateful when Greta saw her and broke away from her conversation with one of the sailors to come and rescue her, saying, ‘That’s enough for your first time, let’s get you back below deck.’
She let herself be led back down, just about able to manage the steep steps of the ladders and feeling her foot slip a number of times. Once back in the dark pit of the boat, she began to feel safe again, despite the stink and the heat.
‘Are you all right?’ said Greta.
‘Yes, yes, thank you,’ said Ada, feeling that she just needed to sit down before her knees gave way. The woman frowned, sensing that there was more to it than that as she guided her over to the bunk, then sat beside her.
‘Look, Ada, what is it? You can tell us lot anything; it won’t go any further.’
When Ada didn’t reply she said, ‘Is he your lover?’
‘Who, what?’ said Ada, not connecting to what she was saying.
‘The handsome young man up on deck, the one in the brown tunic. It’s just that I saw you tap him on the shoulder and speak to him and then I saw your face. You looked like you were going to cry. Was he your sweetheart? Has he broken your heart?’
‘No, no, nothing like that,’ said Ada. ‘I’ve never seen him before.’
‘So why did you look so sad, then, when he turned round?’
Ada sat for a moment, not saying anything, but when she realized that Greta would wait as long as it took to get a reply she started to speak. ‘I thought he was my brother. He had his back turned to me but he looked just like him and I thought it was him.’ Once she had started talking she felt a river of words starting to pour out as she told Greta all about Frank and how she had come to be on the ship.
‘Whew,’ said Greta, ‘you must think the world of him if you’re prepared to do that. It’s my first time going, but the others have been warning me that it’s Hell on earth out there. Hell on earth.’
Ada felt a bit sick; this was exactly the reason she hadn’t wanted to share her story before the ship was on the move, before there was no going back. She had no choice but to continue now. She sat on the bunk next to Greta and wondered what she had done, coming out here like this. What had she done?
‘If he’s anywhere he’s most likely in Scutari – that’s in Turkey,’ said one of the other women, who had been listening to every word Ada said. ‘If he’s any sense he wouldn’t go anywhere near the front line – that’s Balaklava. Scutari’s miles away, takes about another week in a ship to get up to Balaklava from there. And who’s to say that he wouldn’t just stay on the ship and go straight back to Liverpool or on to another place?’
Ada’s heart sank. Of course that was possible, but in her rush to head off and find Frank she had pushed back all other thoughts except that she needed to follow the route he might have taken, to go there, to try to find him and bring him back. Maybe Mary had been right, she was ‘stark, raving mad’.
‘Well, it’s too late now,’ she said to no one in particular as she swung her legs up on to the bunk and pulled the blanket over her.
After two weeks at sea Ada lost touch with time and simply lived within the daily rhythm of the ship and the roll of the sea. She was beginning to feel a little bit at home on the boat and pleased that she had beaten the worst of the seasickness. Then they hit a storm.
Ada would learn later that they had been in the Aegean Sea, tantalizingly close to their first port of call, Scutari. She knew that the army wives had been relieved when they had come through the Bay of Biscay, a place where they were fully expecting to be thrown around a bit. It was the early hours of the morning, just after daybreak. They were asleep – well, as asleep as you can be in the bowels of a noisy sail ship. Ada woke fully and suddenly when she fell off her bunk. They all fell off their bunks at her side of the ship: banged down on to the boards of the floor, then were thrown back against the bunks as the other side of the ship came up.
Ada had the breath knocked out of her; she couldn’t speak, but some of the women were screaming and shouting and there was water pouring in through the hatch, sloshing down each time the boat lurched. She could hear the wind howling and screeching outside like some demented creature. It was terrifying.
Ada managed to scrabble round and found a fixed piece of wood to hold on to, then grabbed Emma who was sliding back and forth along the floor. She got her, lost her, then got her again and this time pulled her in a bit closer using her legs.
Poor Emma seemed to be out of it, and not responding. Ada could see that her left arm was twisted out of shape but somehow she managed to get her more secure and was able to stop her crashing back and forth.
All the time the noise above them was terrifying. The horses were screaming and shrieking with distress, and there was the sound of breaking wood and crashing hooves. Men were shouting. Then they heard what sounded like heavy objects moving back and forth, with everything crashing around them.
Ada concentrated on holding on with one hand and keeping Emma steady with the rest of her body. She managed to wedge her in and block her but was unable to prevent her twisted arm from getting caught time and time again. Thank goodness that Emma was unconscious.
Ada held fast for what felt like hours, until finally the movement of the ship settled and the water stopped slopping down through the hatch. It was still rough out there and the wind still howled but she was able to loosen her grip between lurches and start to look around.
All of their belongings were strewn around and there was broken glass and the sound of people groaning. Emma was still unconscious, her arm definitely broken, although Ada daren’t look too close.
Things seemed to have quietened down on the deck above but heavy objects were still sliding and dragging around. And then, as if from another world, they heard the sound of a man weeping. Ada felt for him, felt for all of them and the horses that had surely died up th
ere. But as far as she could see all souls on this lower deck were still breathing and it wasn’t long before they felt another shift in the movement of the ship as they entered calmer seas. It was soon possible to stand and move around a bit and come to terms with how their small world had been smashed to pieces.
The other wives came straight over to check on Emma.
‘You did well there, lass,’ said Sarah. ‘Without you keeping hold of her, she would have been a goner. You might not be a nurse but you certainly have the makings of one.’
Ada helped to move Emma over on to her side, into a better position with her injured arm uppermost, and Sarah produced a small knife from her boot and started to rip at the woman’s sleeve so they could have a look at the injury, saying, ‘We need to get this done before she wakes up and starts feeling the pain. It will hurt like hell.’ The lower arm was red but looked normal; the upper arm was swollen, twisted and out of shape.
Ada’s stomach heaved again.
‘Now,’ said Sarah, looking straight at Ada, ‘find me a big square of cloth, will you?’
Ada scrabbled in the debris that lay all around and at last found a brightly patterned square of cotton. She brought it across to Sarah, who was still feeling up and down the injured arm, and waited for further instruction. ‘Right then,’ Sarah said at last, ‘we need to set this arm as best we can. I’m going to twist it back the right way and straighten it. Then I want you to hold it in position while I fix it with a sling.’
Ada understood immediately. Sarah twisted the arm round as quick as she could; it made a scraping, crunching sound that made Ada feel sick but she managed to grab the arm and keep it in position.
‘Good job,’ said Sarah, giving Ada a quick smile, just as Emma woke up screaming her head off.
They both shouted at her: ‘Keep still, keep still! We need to put the sling on,’ but she was beside herself with pain and starting to thrash around.
Instantly all of the other women were there, holding their friend down, ignoring her screams. The piece of cloth was folded into a triangle, the point of the triangle was laid at the woman’s elbow then the cloth was knotted round the woman’s neck.
‘Now get her some brandy, quick,’ said Sarah, planting a big kiss on her injured friend’s tear-stained cheek. ‘This is going to hurt so bad for such a long time that you might want somebody to chop it off, but it will get better,’ she continued. ‘And hopefully you will still have some use left in it.’
As soon as the women were finished and the injured party was laid on her bunk, Ada crawled on to her own bed and wrapped herself tightly in her red shawl. Greta came to her and offered her a tot of brandy, but she said, ‘No thank you, I don’t drink liquor,’ before falling into a deep sleep that was more like being dead than anything else.
5
‘There might be employment for a lady Superintendent here as well if you would prefer it … I can hardly define the work … other than the moral control of Nurses & Sisters.’
Florence Nightingale
‘Wake up, wake up! We’ve landed, we’re in Turkey!’
‘No, not yet,’ said Ada, pulling the blanket over herself and turning her back on Greta.
‘Yes, yes, we’re here, Ada, we’re in Scutari, you need to wake up,’ said Greta, shaking her now more strongly than ever.
That can’t be right, thought Ada, I can still feel the roll of the ship beneath me, doesn’t feel like we’re in the harbour. I just need to get some more sleep.
‘Come on, lass,’ said the army wife with a tone in her voice that meant she wouldn’t stand any messing. ‘You need to get off here with us; this ship’s going up to Balaklava, near the front line. It’s a godforsaken spot up there. And the most likely place your brother might be is here. Come on!’
Ada had to wake up or fall on the floor, so she roused up pretty quick and managed a sleepy smile through tousled hair for the woman who was shaking and dragging her to God knows where.
‘All right, all right,’ she said. ‘Just let me get my things.’
As she turned back to push her one or two belongings into her canvas bag, Greta cracked up laughing. ‘Ooh, Miss Ada, maybe you should have brought a much more commodious valise.’
Ada couldn’t help but laugh and this made her wake up properly. She took the comb back out of the bag, raked it through her hair, twisted her thick locks into a knot, then secured it with a comb. ‘Right,’ she said, still a bit bleary.
‘Not really,’ said Greta, taking a rag out from her sleeve and spitting on it. ‘You’ve got some dried stuff on your face and your eyes are full of sleep.’ Using the rag she rubbed a bit too vigorously on Ada’s cheek and then wiped her eyes. She glanced at the hair but had to leave it – too many patches of what looked like dried vomit.
‘You’ll do,’ she said, taking Ada’s arm to prevent her turning back once more to the bunk. ‘You’ll have to do.’
At the last moment Ada remembered her shawl and raced back to the bunk to pull it free from the blanket.
‘Come on!’ said Greta. ‘The rest of them are already on dry land.’
As Ada climbed up the ladder into the bright light, the heat of Scutari met her. She had to narrow her eyes as she came up on deck and wasn’t able to see at first. Greta grabbed her again and they proceeded down the gangplank. Ada was very glad of her companion; her legs were weak and her balance seemed off. She clung to the army wife.
They quickly found the rest of the group, who had been joined by another woman Ada didn’t recognize. It was so noisy on the dock, with people and cargo being unloaded and the push of the crowd all around, that the wives had to shout to be heard. And what was that smell? With so many distractions, her legs still feeling for the roll of the ship, and with the heat, Ada had no idea what was going on.
At last, the shouted conversation seemed to have come to an end and Greta grabbed her by the arm and they moved off as one unit. Once away from the crowd, Ada was more able to make sense of what was being said. It seemed that the wives had some concern that she would not be able to stay with them in their lodging. That meant she would not have anywhere to stay while she looked for her brother, but they thought she would be able to make her way up to the hospital and try there, see if they needed any volunteers or anyone to work.
Ada felt panicked, her mind flying all over the place, but she knew that she didn’t want to get packed off back to Liverpool before she’d even had the chance to ask around about Frank.
‘All right,’ she said, ‘but can you all keep your eyes and ears open for my brother? His name is Frank Houston and he’s tall and strong with dark blond hair and blue eyes, very blue eyes.’
‘We’ve got that,’ said Greta, giving her friend a quick hug. ‘We’ll do our best for you. Now go with this man,’ and she pushed her in the direction of a loaded cart hitched to two mules, adding, ‘You stand a better chance of finding something up at the hospital with Miss Nightingale. If you come with us they’ll work out straight away that you’re not with the army and send you back on the next ship leaving for England.’
Ada didn’t want to leave the group but hearing the mention of Miss Nightingale’s name again she felt a small thrill of excitement.
‘Go, go!’ shouted Sarah. ‘You’ll do well up at the hospital. If you need us, just ask for the house where the English army wives are staying. Everybody knows where that is.’
There was no time to say goodbye properly as Ada scrambled up on to the cart beside a mule driver who stared straight ahead. She shouted to the women she had grown so close to and waved goodbye frantically, tears not far away, but they were already swallowed up by the crowd.
Swaying along beside the driver of the cart, Ada began to feel like she was back on board ship and therefore more steady, but when the cart came to a halt in front of a large building and the driver indicated that she should jump down, her legs almost gave way and she had to cling to the rough wood at the side of the cart for support.
Fortu
nately a woman in a grey dress and starched, white apron had seen her stumble and came to her aid. ‘You must have just arrived – still got your sea legs,’ said the woman with a grim smile.
‘Yes,’ said Ada, starting to laugh. ‘How could you tell?’
Her helper was not amused and immediately pursed her lips. ‘Are you a nurse?’ she asked. ‘Have you got a letter?’
‘Well, not exactly,’ said Ada, using her unsteady gait and reeling head to her advantage as she exaggerated a stumble in order to avoid giving a proper answer. The woman grabbed her and pulled her up with strong arms. Ada stole a glance at the woman’s face; it was severe, her mouth a firm, straight line.
Somehow the woman managed to get her in through the door of the building.
‘Do you not know where you are? Who sent you?’
Ada saw a chair, slumped down on it and closed her eyes, shutting out the woman’s questions, not wanting to answer, trying to think up what her story was going to be, trying to give herself time.
But the woman would not let up. ‘Are you a nurse? Where is your letter?’
Ada thought quickly. ‘There was a storm at sea,’ she said. ‘All my papers were lost.’
‘Really,’ said the woman, looking down her nose at Ada as she sat in the chair. ‘Well, we’ll see about that. Miss Nightingale is busy today; you will meet her tomorrow. We will find you a bed for the night and then we will see. Wait here and I will find someone to take you.’
Well, this is going well, thought Ada as she sat gently swaying on the chair in the entrance of Scutari hospital. She was already missing the easy company and ready acceptance of her travelling companions.
‘Right, young lady,’ said another woman’s voice. Ada looked up to the welcome sight of a round, smiling face. A rush of relief flooded her body – thank goodness for human kindness. She smiled in return, but it must have been a strange smile because the kind face immediately showed some concern.
‘You’re in a bit of a state, dearie,’ said the woman. ‘You probably just need to get some rest and you’re in luck: there is only one spare bed in this whole building tonight and it’s with me. I’m Elsie, by the way, one of the washerwomen.’