Miss Nightingale's Nurses

by Kate Eastham

  ‘They were good with me when they told me about my Robert,’ she went on, her voice suddenly sombre. ‘They knew he was missing but didn’t find his body for days. By that time he was difficult to recognize, just a letter from his mother in his pocket to show who it was. Dolly’s husband was killed at the Alma as well. That’s when she had to come clean to the officers and tell them who she was. She’d fought with courage alongside her man during the battle and they admired her for that, so they brought her out of the regiment and found her work as a laundress. She’s strong, strong and clever, so she’d do well anywhere.

  ‘I mean, without people like Dolly I don’t know how any of us would have survived that first winter here. It was terrible. We weren’t told, you see, how cold it would be. Nobody had thick clothing or enough blankets. The men’s backs were never dry and they were going down to the trenches in rags, wet to the skin. Then they had to lie there in mud and slush till morning. There wasn’t enough wood or charcoal for fires so they couldn’t dry their boots or clothes. Men were dying from cold and frostbite in those trenches and they were ordered to dig more trenches, digging into hard ground in freezing temperatures under constant enemy fire. Somebody told us that every yard of trench was at the cost of one man’s life.’

  Ada felt the sorrow seeping out of Lavinia and put an arm round her shoulders to try and offer some comfort.

  Lavinia smiled at her then continued with her story. ‘We didn’t get enough food either because before the railway was open there was only that road, deep in mud and impassable. Starved baggage animals had no strength to wade through that mud; they were so weak that many of them were dying from cold every night. The men were starving and then when the rum ration ran out … I mean that was the only stand-by that kept them on their legs at all. There were rumours that men were deserting, going over to the Russians for food and a bit of warmth.’

  Lavinia paused for a moment, lost in her thoughts. Ada didn’t try to speak, just continued to listen.

  ‘The officers made sure that they were all right, though; they made sure of that. They had their own horses so they could go down to Balaklava for supplies and they had the money to pay for them. We had bugger all that winter, bugger all … Terrible times. Ruth’s husband, he survived all that, only to get struck by a shell when he was peering over the trench to look for his dog. He always liked a dog did George Bell, seemed to have a special way with them. This one he’d picked up as a stray in camp, skinny little thing it was, left behind by some of the locals when they moved out. He kept it and fed it from his rations and the officers didn’t mind because it was good for morale. Anyway, they said he woke up that morning and the dog was gone. He just poked his head up to have a quick look and bang, that was it. At least it was quick for him. They never did find that dog – Boney, he called it, little brown Boney.

  ‘I was glad that me and Dolly stuck together at camp and then down here. She looked after me that winter and she’s looking after me now,’ said Lavinia, wistful and beginning to yawn.

  Ada drew in all this information as they sat by the fire watching the embers glow then turn grey. She began to feel tired but was reluctant to leave until Lavinia was ready, worried that she might lose her voice again.

  As darkness fell, the temperature dropped and Ada felt a bit of a shiver without the red shawl, though it gave her a warm glow to know that it was keeping that baby warm.

  Sensing that Ada was tired, Lavinia said, ‘I’ll walk you back to the nurses’ quarters, young Ada, just in case there’s any big rats lurking in the shadows.’

  They both laughed and got up together to walk through the hospital. And that night, as they parted with a kiss on the cheek, Ada felt the closeness of a sister.

  16

  ‘Mrs Seacole was with the British army in the Crimea … This excellent woman has frequently exerted herself in the most praiseworthy manner in attending wounded men, even in positions of great danger, and in assisting sick soldiers by all means in her power.’

  Lord William Paulet, British adjutant-general in the Crimea

  Early next morning there was another knock on the nurses’ door, and Rose was not surprised to find Dr Lampeter standing there, mumbling about asking that nurse to come with him again up to the British Hotel.

  ‘Ada,’ said Rose in a low voice, turning from the door and holding it to, ‘Dr Lampeter wants you to go out with him again, up to Mrs Seacole’s place this time.’

  Ada felt herself bristle. She really didn’t fancy doing anything with him again. He’d probably just want to get blind drunk and then expect her to get them home like last time.

  ‘Well?’ said Rose, still holding the door and indicating with her raised eyebrows that Ada really had no choice – she had to go; an order from a doctor was an order.

  Ada nodded and Rose opened the door just far enough to say, ‘Nurse Houston will meet you out front in five minutes.’

  Ada heard the door click shut as she scurried into her clothes. Then Rose came over to help her fasten up, saying, ‘I’m going to miss you again today, Ada. I was hoping we could work together on the ward but you’d better go with his lordship.’

  ‘I’ll be back soon, don’t worry,’ said Ada, and then, thinking about what Rose had just said, ‘Do you really think I’m some use on the ward?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Rose. ‘Sister Roberts and I are very pleased with you. You have the makings of an excellent nurse.’

  ‘Really?’ said Ada, beaming at Rose.

  ‘Now go on,’ said Rose, smiling back. ‘You don’t want to keep the great doctor waiting.’

  As she walked through the hospital Ada was pleased with the thought that she might at least be able to see Sally again. She was fully expecting to have to travel in complete silence, but she could manage that; it might even be easier than trying to make awkward conversation.

  Lampeter was waiting on the wagon, ready to get going, and barely acknowledged her as she scrambled up on to the seat beside him. She sat upright and held on to the side, expecting them to leave at some speed. However, he flicked the reins gently this time and they moved away at a slow pace. Almost leisurely, thought Ada, settling herself for a long, bumpy journey with a silent companion.

  Then she heard him speak and out of the corner of her eye saw him turn in her direction. She was so shocked that she didn’t take in what he was saying. He hadn’t seemed to think her worth his time of day before, but now she thought he sort of smiled, though she wasn’t really sure if it was a smile or some kind of grimace. She noticed how blue his eyes were but felt a bit unsettled by the way they seemed to burn into her. She also noticed that he had been attempting to trim his beard. It was a bit lopsided but certainly not as wild as it had been. She wondered what he looked like under all that hair.

  She returned a sort of smile and they reverted to their usual silence as they rocked and bounced along. Maybe he was sick or going down with a fever. She glanced across at him again quickly. He looked his usual self, and now he seemed to be lost in thought, staring at the horse’s back end.

  In due course their pace slowed and Lampeter sat back a little and turned to Ada as if to speak, but then, thinking better of it, looked at the horse again. A few moments later he said hesitantly, ‘You settling in all right at the hospital?’

  ‘Yes, very well,’ she blurted out, looking at him only to find that he was still staring at the horse’s back end.

  ‘Are you comfortable enough?’

  ‘Yes of course,’ said Ada with a small smile at the corners of her mouth, thinking of the hard, narrow bed under the stairs in their house on the street. What did he think she was used to: a feather mattress?

  He opened his mouth to respond but then no words would come. At long last he managed to say, ‘You homesick or anything?’

  Wanting to put an end to this strange, stilted conversation, Ada replied with a simple ‘No.’ It was of course a complete lie; now that she was further away from Liverpool than she had ever im
agined she would be she thought about the place constantly. It was mainly tied up with how much she still missed her grandfather and Frank, of course it was, but she was amazed by how much the city itself kept calling to her and how much longing she had for it. Sometimes when she woke she thought she was back at home. She missed the smell of the city and the rhythm of the people in the streets and their accents, but most of all she missed the roll and clank of the docks and the little house that she would never go back to.

  Now that her grandfather was dead and gone and Frank was missing it almost felt that the city had become more to her; it gave her a sense of who she was. She had never thought of it like that before but she did now, all those miles away and with no idea of when she would be able to get back to it. She realized she would always feel tied to Liverpool with some unseen thread; that was the reality.

  But she sat up there on that wagon with Dr High and Mighty and told him an outright lie, just to shut him up and end their awkward conversation.

  ‘Well, not many people get to see a place like this,’ he said.

  Strange man, she thought. Very strange. No, they don’t get to see a place like this, probably because most people don’t want to risk life and limb visiting a war!

  Later he turned again to her and said, ‘You still have a lot to learn, you do realize that, don’t you?’

  Before she could reply, he turned back to look down at the horse and she lost her opportunity to respond.

  Of course I know that, she thought, what is he going on about?

  When they approached the British Hotel, Lampeter sat up in his seat and became instantly alert as they saw a line of soldiers waiting outside the door. Ada remembered what Sally had told her about the emergency treatment that Mother Seacole gave to the troops. It looked like this would be a good opportunity to learn from a woman who by all accounts knew what she was doing.

  Lampeter pulled up the horse and jumped down in a lively fashion. Turning to Ada he said, ‘Come on then, nurse, let’s go and have a look at what they’re doing.’

  Jumping down from the wagon, she only just caught up with him. As they went through the door he was explaining that he had promised Sally that he’d bring the English girl back. Ada wasn’t listening but got the gist of it. She was distracted by the sight of an older woman – in a bright green dress with feathers in her hair and large shiny earrings – bending over a young soldier with a towel soaked in water wrapped around his head.

  The woman looked up with a broad smile as they walked in and Lampeter greeted her warmly. ‘Good morning, Mrs Seacole. You’ve made an early start today.’

  With a full, strong voice she replied, ‘Yes, doctor, this young man couldn’t wait in line. He was bleeding everywhere, and I mean everywhere.’

  The lad looked up with pain in his eyes and Mother Seacole spoke to him gently, telling him not to worry, that these head wounds always bled freely and looked a lot worse than they were. He wasn’t going to die; he just needed to keep still and then she could sew him up as quick as anything and he’d be perfectly fine to go back with his friends.

  Ada noticed two other young soldiers who sat to the side, spattered with blood.

  Mrs Seacole shouted over to the counter, ‘Sally, bring this young man some of the best brandy and then we’ll get started.’

  Sally smiled at Ada and then came over with the spirit in a flask so the lad could swig it easily. Ada couldn’t help but notice that seeing Sally that morning was a real pleasure for the lad, despite the nasty head wound that had brought him here.

  ‘Can I take a look at the wound?’ said Lampeter, interested as always in gaping flesh or broken bones. Satisfied that the situation was as Mrs Seacole stated, he let her get on with it, telling Ada, much to her surprise, ‘This woman can suture a wound better than any surgeon I’ve ever worked with.’

  The woman in question looked at Ada and simply said, ‘Many, many years of practice. Many years.’ Then added, ‘You must be the young nurse that Sally told me about. Pass me that needle over there, please, then you don’t need to do anything ’cept watch and learn.’

  Ada was instantly fascinated by this woman who had the same rich brown skin, dark eyes and black hair as Sally. She could have been Sally’s mother.

  Lampeter was quite right; Mrs Seacole’s nimble fingers were quick and adept with the needle and thread. So quick in fact that the lad who was still staring at Sally didn’t seem to notice the stitches going in, even as small rivulets of blood from each one began to stream down his face. Ada made a move to lift a swab but Mrs Seacole told her to let the blood flow freely. It would help clean the wound. After the final suture Mrs Seacole pressed the wound firmly; this she told Ada was to squeeze out any residual blood from inside the wound so it didn’t turn to infection. She then asked Sally to apply a dressing and a firm bandage.

  ‘I’ll have a break now, Sally,’ said Mrs Seacole as she wiped the blood from her hands. Then she went over to Dr Lampeter’s table. ‘Please, Sally, when you’ve time can you bring us over a pot of coffee with three cups. I need a pick-me-up before I can see the rest of them.’

  Once Sally had brought a steaming pot of freshly brewed coffee and three cups over to the table, Mrs Seacole beckoned for Ada to join them. The conversation between Mrs Seacole and Lampeter revolved around the number and type of cases they were seeing, the recent improvement in medical supplies and then predictions of what might happen next in terms of the siege.

  ‘I think the Russians are weakening,’ said Lampeter, cradling his coffee with both hands, ‘but then we failed last time and who knows if another assault will be any more successful.’

  ‘That’s the thing,’ said Mrs Seacole. ‘There they are, holed up in Sevastopol, and I’ve heard that conditions are terrible for them in that city. Just terrible. I really worry about those Russian soldiers.’

  ‘I can’t worry about the enemy soldiers like you do,’ said Lampeter, smiling at her, ‘I’ve got too much to do worrying about our own.’

  ‘The thing is,’ said Mrs Seacole, ‘they’re all just wounded soldiers to me. They’re all brave men and if they need help, I will treat them, in the trenches or when that white flag goes up and we can get into no-man’s-land during a truce. I will do my best to help them if I can.’

  ‘Well of course, I know what you mean, especially during a truce. I had an encounter with a Russian officer soon after I came up here. I’ll never forget it.’

  ‘What happened? Did he try to shoot you?’

  ‘No, not at all.’

  ‘He should have done,’ said Mrs Seacole, laughing and nudging Ada with her elbow. ‘Don’t you agree, nurse? A short-tempered, bloody-minded doctor like him deserves to be shot.’

  Ada opened her mouth to reply but Lampeter was there first, clearly not picking up on Mrs Seacole’s light-hearted tone.

  ‘I’d only been up in the Crimea a matter of days, but a truce was signalled. I didn’t know what to do or how to do it but went forth with the men to try and help. Most of the Allies were dead or dying but I did find a Russian officer who was struggling to hobble back to his own line. He looked a bit worried when he saw me approaching, must not have realized I was friendly …’

  No surprise there, thought Ada, trying to stop herself from smiling.

  ‘When I did manage to make him understand that I just wanted to help, he showed me his leg, which had a nasty wound below the knee. I gestured for him to sit down on the ground, and used one of our field bandages to try and staunch the blood, gave him a drink of water from my flask, then helped him across to his own territory. By that time they were just about to sound the end of the truce and lower the white flag.’

  Lampeter paused for a moment in his story-telling and took a swig of his coffee. He looked lost in his own thoughts and when he spoke again his voice was charged with emotion.

  ‘As I turned to go back to our line the Russian signalled for me to wait. He undid the top buttons of his uniform and reached up around his ne
ck to remove something. It was a pendant, a leather pendant embossed with the image of the Madonna and Child. The Russian held it in the palm of his hand for a few moments before kissing it and insisting that I take it … We parted with a handshake.’ Lampeter took another swig of his coffee.

  Mrs Seacole sat smiling at him, before reaching over to pat his hand. Then Lampeter fished between the buttons of his shirt and brought out the pendant to show her. Ada wasn’t quite sure, but was there a hint of a tear welling up in his eyes? Maybe there was more to this Dr Lampeter than she thought.

  ‘Well now, John,’ said Mrs Seacole, dropping her voice, ‘who would have thought that a man like you with such a stern expression would be capable of such an act of humanity. And by the sound of it he gave you his most treasured possession. I pray for an end to all wars but if they can’t end then let’s hope that they’ll always have truces so that those who fight can see each other for what they are, man to man, just human beings.’

  Ada felt a tightness in her chest when she saw that Lampeter’s eyes had now definitely filled with tears and he was sitting with his head bowed. Mrs Seacole put out a hand and gently touched his arm. ‘It’s hard, it truly is, to go out there and try to patch people together, people who shouldn’t be blowing each other to bits in the first place. But we have to keep doing it. We have no choice.’

  Lampeter nodded and then ran his hand over his face, trying unsuccessfully to wipe away the tears before they were noticed. Ada didn’t see it as a sign of weakness at all; she had been very moved by his story and had become aware that maybe the man’s arrogance and hard exterior were a face that he showed to the world. Behind that it was just possible that he was a man who had feelings.

  ‘Are you going to spend some time here with us today, John?’ said Mrs Seacole, clearly aware that the man was struggling.