Finest Kind

by Lea Wait

  Jake took the rope from Simon and quickly tied it around Westley’s wrists. “Simon, take Westley outside and tie him to a tree, like we did with Thomas, and then come back and help me with the men upstairs.”

  Simon nodded. He had trouble keeping up with Westley as they both ran down the smoky granite stairs to the outside, but Jake wasn’t worried. Westley would cooperate.

  Jake took two more ropes from the hallway. On the third floor the situation would be harder. Inside the corridor the fire had already spread. Little was left of the fourth floor where Mr. and Mrs. Burke had stayed with little Erin. Thank goodness no one was there now. Jake opened the first cell on his right. Charles Umberkind was lying in the corner, under his pallet, trying to escape the smoke.

  “Come on, Charles, get up,” said Jake. “I’m going to get you out.” The man didn’t move. Jake threw the pallet off, and pulled at him. “Come on! The fire is getting closer!” Charles didn’t respond. For a moment Jake thought he was dead. Then Charles started sobbing with fright.

  Simon, breathing heavily from his run back up the stairs in the smoke, joined Jake.

  “Charles,” said Simon, kneeling next to him. “Bring your blanket. There’s snow outside.”

  Charles looked up at him.

  “And fresh air. No smoke.”

  Slowly Charles got up. Jake put a rope around one of his hands, and Charles clutched his blanket with the other one. “Simon, get him outside.”

  “Come on, Charles. We’re going for a walk,” said Simon. “You won’t be alone. I’m going too.” The two men walked steadily together through the smoke and down the stairs. Over the sound of the fire Jake could sometimes hear Simon’s voice calming the other man as they made their way down to the first floor, and then out into the snow.

  He opened the next door. The smoke was even thicker here. He could barely see David Genthner backed against the far wall. As soon as David saw the open door, he raced for it. Jake threw himself across the door, and looped a rope around the man’s waist. “Now we can go.” Genthner jerked the rope, pulling it out of Jake’s hands, and raced for the steps, the rope trailing behind him. Jake ran down the stairs but couldn’t catch him. He watched as Genthner ran into the yard. He didn’t have time to chase one man. Maybe the snow would slow him down.

  There was still a prisoner on the lowest floor. Jake picked up one more piece of rope and fought with the iron keys again until he’d opened the door to the first floor. Here, in the lowest part of the jail, there was little smoke so far. He opened the cell that held David Douglas. “There’s a fire, and I’m going to get you out of the jail. But I have to tie your hands.”

  “I don’t need no rope,” said David Douglas.

  “I won’t let you out without being tied. Would you rather me tie your hands, or stay in a burning jail?”

  Douglas reluctantly put his hands behind his back to be tied, and he and Jake went through the iron door on the first floor and into the wooden hallway between the jailer’s house and the prison, toward the outside door. Flames were now above them; smoke was everywhere, and the heat was intense. As they took a step toward the door, a section of burning roof fell down the granite jail stairs. It hit Douglas’s shoulders and he sank to the floor. With his hands tied he could do little. Jake pushed the flaming wood off with his shoulder, and helped Douglas up. Together they stumbled toward the door, and threw themselves out into the snow.

  Simon was waiting outside. “I’ll take him,” he said. He took the rope holding Douglas and helped him to a tree near the road, where he collapsed, the side of his face burned from the flames.

  Jake’s hair and jacket were burning. No one was near enough to help. He threw himself down in the snow and rolled over and over, pulling snow over his head and dousing the flames.

  39

  Someone reached down and pulled him out of the snow. Jake blinked. It was Mr. Holbrook. All the students from the school were there too. He looked around. Someone had caught Genthner, and he was now tied to a tree like the rest of the prisoners.

  “How do you feel?” asked Mr. Holbrook. “The top and back of your head are burned.”

  “My hair caught fire, and my jacket, but I think I’m all right.”

  “It’s a miracle,” said Mr. Holbrook. “Get back, everyone,” he called. “The buildings are coming down. There’s nothing we can do.”

  They all stood near the road, students, prisoners, and the Holbrook family, and watched through the snow as the fire quickly burned the wooden house and the two top floors of the jail, destroying everything but the granite walls and stairs of the bottom two floors of the prison. The outbuildings were gone, the high stockade surrounding the exercise area was gone, and the house and everything in it was gone.

  “I sent Jon Chase for Sheriff Beals and Dr. Theobold,” Mr. Holbrook told Jake. “When Annie ran into the schoolhouse screaming ‘The house is afire!’ I didn’t know what to expect.” He kept his arm around his shivering wife, but no one said anything about the cold.

  Simon stood near Jake. “We did it, Jake. We got everyone out.”

  “We did, Simon. Together, we did it.”

  The sheriff rode up on horseback, followed by a wagon holding members of the Wiscasset Fire Society. They arrived in time to see the last wall shudder and collapse into the snow.

  Sheriff Beals went to Mr. Holbrook. “How did the fire start?”

  “We don’t know. Most likely ashes on the roof”

  He looked at the crowd. “Did you get everyone out?”

  “Everyone is out,” said Mr. Holbrook, “thanks to Jake, here. He came back to light a firebrand for the school stove and found the fire. He’s the one who got my family out, praise the Lord, and the prisoners.”

  “Without Simon I couldn’t have reached everyone in time,” said Jake.

  “The town of Wiscasset is very appreciative,” said Sheriff Beals.

  “What do you want done with the prisoners?” asked one of the fire society men.

  Sheriff Beals hesitated a moment. “There are six men. Correct, Mr. Holbrook?”

  “Four prisoners and two insane.”

  Dr. Theobold joined them. “All I heard on my way through the crowd was how Jake Webber saved the Holbrook family and everyone in the jail. We owe you a great debt, Jake.” He reached over and shook Jake’s hand.

  “Thank you, sir,” said Jake. “But it wasn’t only me. Simon helped too.”

  “Then many thanks to you, too, Simon.” Dr. Theobold reached over and shook Simon’s hand as well. “Now, is anyone burned? Hurt in any way?”

  “Everyone inside breathed a lot of smoke,” said Mr. Holbrook. “David Douglas’s face was burned. And you should check Jake’s head and back.”

  “I’ll check everyone,” said Dr. Theobold. “Where are you going to take the prisoners?”

  “The only place I can think of is the poor farm,” said Sheriff Beals. “We need a place they can be confined until another jail is built.”

  Simon went pale. The poor farm! The place he had grown up.

  “They have little space at the poor farm,” said Dr. Theobold. “Perhaps five of the men could go there. But Simon committed a minor offense, and he’s served half his sentence. I’d suggest you consider his term completed. He was a hero today, and we can be proud he’s a citizen of Wiscasset.”

  Sheriff Beals hesitated only briefly. “An excellent idea, Doctor. I can’t imagine anyone objecting after Simon risked his life today. Simon, you’re free to go.”

  Jake and Simon grinned at each other.

  40

  The crowd dispersed. The children went to their homes, full of the story of the big fire.

  After Dr. Theobold put liniment on David Douglas’s burns and determined that although Jake’s hair was singed, his skin was not burned, members of the Wiscasset Fire Society took the five prisoners to the poorhouse, and Dr. Theobold loaded the Holbrook family on his wagon and took them to town to find space at an inn. With Mrs. Holbrook expec
ting in February, he wanted to keep an eye on her, and the safest place would be in town.

  “Simon, where will you go?” asked Jake.

  Simon shook his head. “Not to the poorhouse. Not to the tavern.”

  “Of course not.” Jake hesitated. “You’ll come home with me. There’s space in the loft where I sleep.”

  Simon smiled at him. “You are my friend, Jake.”

  Mother turned pale when Jake walked into the house, his hair standing straight up where it had been burned, his face black with soot, and his jacket burned and covered with ashes. She jumped up. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

  Then she saw Simon, who was almost as dirty as Jake. “Who is with you?” She quickly moved in front of where Frankie lay, trying to hide him from the visitor.

  “This is Simon, Mother. The jail and the Holbrooks’ house burned down this morning.”

  “Hello. I’m Simon. Are you Jake’s ma?” Simon held out his hand to shake Mother’s.

  “Yes. I’m Mrs. Webber.” She turned back to Jake. “Are you all right? What happened?”

  “Mr. Holbrook sent me back to the jail to get fire for the school stove, and I saw the smoke and flames. I got Mrs. Holbrook and the girls out, and Simon helped me free the prisoners.”

  “So no one was hurt?”

  “David Douglas, one of the prisoners, was burned a little,” said Simon. “We did a good job.”

  “Jake? Are you really fine?” She looked from Jake to Simon and then back. “You’re both covered with soot.” “That’s just from the smoke, Mother,” said Jake. He turned around so she could see his jacket. “My hair caught fire, and my jacket burned, but I rolled in the snow to put them out.”

  Mother looked at the two of them in horror.

  “We’re fine, Mother. Everyone is. The Holbrooks went with Dr. Theobold to find a place to stay in the village, and Sheriff Beals took the prisoners to the poor farm.” He didn’t mention that Simon had been one of the prisoners until less than an hour ago. “Simon had no place to go, so I told him he could stay here.”

  Mother nodded, taking it all in. “Then, you’re welcome, Simon.”

  “He can sleep in the loft with me. There’s space there. He won’t be any trouble.”

  “I can help. I can carry firewood.” Simon looked beyond Mother to where Frankie lay on his pallet, surrounded by other pallets and quilts. “Do you have a baby? I love babies.”

  Jake took a deep breath. He had never told anyone about Frankie. What would Simon’s reaction be? “Frankie’s my brother,” said Jake. “He’s not a baby. But he’s not like other children.”

  Simon nodded, and knelt down next to Frankie. “I’m not like other people either, Frankie. But I have friends, like Jake and Nabby. You can be my friend too.”

  Frankie looked toward Simon almost as though he recognized him.

  There were tears in Mother’s eyes.

  41

  Frankie’s coughing woke them all late that night. The coughs were deep and gasping, from within his chest.

  By the time Simon and Jake climbed down from the loft, the coughing had sent Frankie into one of his fits. Mother held him firmly as Jake moved the quilts to protect him, and Simon added wood to the fire.

  The oil lamp flickered on the table.

  The fit lasted only a few minutes, and then Frankie slept. But almost every hour his coughing woke him again, and the coughing would lead to another fit. By morning he was feverish.

  The snow had finally stopped. Two new feet of snow covered everything. Jake and Simon took turns using the heavy wooden shovel to dig a path to the woodpile, and to dig the wood out of the snow. They also had to dig out the door to the cold cellar, so they could get to the provisions stored there.

  “Soon there will be too much snow to shovel,” said Simon. “When it snows again, we will stomp the snow down and make a hard path to the woodpile on top of the drifts.”

  “How will we get the wood?” asked Jake.

  “Dig for it,” said Simon. “Like for clams.”

  Every time they touched Frankie’s forehead, it was hotter.

  “Frankie needs to see a doctor,” said Jake as he tried to get his brother to swallow a spoonful of water. “His fits have never been worse, or come more often, and his fever is rising.”

  “I wish we could do something,” Mother said. “But if we find a doctor, that will be someone else who knows about Frankie.”

  “If Dr. Theobold could cure the fever and coughing, then the fits might stop for a while,” Jake pointed out.

  “I don’t want anyone to know,” said Mother. She ran her hand through her long dark hair. “But we have to help him. He’s getting weaker every hour.”

  “I’ve seen Dr. Theobold care for prisoners at the jail; even prisoners who were not right in their heads. He’s kind, Mother, truly.”

  “Dr. Theobold likes me,” said Simon. “He gives me medicine when I have no money. Sometimes I chop wood for him.”

  By noon Frankie was no better, and Mother was beginning to cough too. Simon kept the fire going while Jake bathed Frankie’s forehead and hands with cool water and made Mother a cup of rose hip tea. The next time Frankie had a fit, Simon helped to hold him.

  “My head is aching,” Mother finally said when her coughing got worse. “And I’m dizzy. I’m going to lie down for a short while.”

  She fell asleep almost immediately. Mother never slept during the day, even when she’d been up all night with Frankie.

  “We have no wagon or horse to take Frankie and Mother to town,” said Jake. “Simon, can you walk to Wiscasset to get Dr. Theobold? Tell him Frankie and Mother are both very sick.” Mother would not be pleased, but she was too weak to make a decision.

  “I can do that. I will tell Dr. Theobold they are sick,” said Simon.

  “The snow is deep, and I have no boots your size. But Father left a coat that would be warmer than the one you have,” said Jake, searching through the clothes Father had not taken to the mill. He found an elegant black wool coat, more suitable for city walking than pushing through snowdrifts. But it was longer and warmer than Simon’s threadbare coat covered with soot.

  “Maybe I could get some wine,” Simon suggested.

  “No!” said Jake. “No wine. Just bring Dr. Theobold. And soon.”

  If only Father were here. How could he have left them for so long? What if Mother and Frankie didn’t get well?

  Jake felt tears coming to his own eyes. He picked up some snow from the yard and washed his face in it. There was no time to be sorry for himself. He had Mother and Frankie to care for.

  42

  Frankie’s fits continued. Jake tried to get Mother and Frankie to sip water, but they only swallowed a little. He gathered all the quilts in the house and covered them both. He kept the fire going and found the few candles left. The whale oil was low in the lamp, and in Maine it was dark shortly past four in the afternoon in December.

  Both Frankie and Mother were coughing badly and their fevers were high.

  It was night before Dr. Theobold got to the Webbers’ home. The snow was too deep for him to use the wagon he’d taken to the jail only the day before, but with Simon’s help he’d harnessed his horse to a sleigh.

  Jake jumped when he heard the knock at the door. He threw open the door. “You’re finally here!” He’d never been so relieved to see anyone. “Frankie’s fits have been a little farther apart, but his fever is higher, and I can’t get him to swallow water. Mother’s in a deep sleep.”

  Dr. Theobold looked around the room and went to Mrs. Webber first. “We need to get her fever down,” he confirmed. “Get me a basin of cool water, and the chest of medicines I left in the sleigh.” Simon went for the medicines, while Jake pumped some fresh water. The water flowed slowly, and it was cold, with slivers of ice in it.

  “We should wrap the pump in a rug,” Simon advised as he stopped to watch Jake on his way back into the house. “If we don’t, the pump will freeze, and we’ll
have to melt snow for water.”

  “We have floor coverings in the lean-to,” said Jake. What would Mother think if he wrapped one of her imported woven carpets around a pump in the snow? But they couldn’t risk being without pumped water. Leaving the medicines and water with Dr. Theobold, Jake and Simon wrapped the pump in the heavy wool and secured it with rope.

  Jake felt himself calming down. Dr. Theobold had come. There was someone he could depend on other than himself.

  Mother was confused when Dr. Theobold woke her, but she swallowed the white willow tea he held to her lips. “The tea should keep the fever down. We’ll give her more in an hour. Simon, would you go and put the blanket in the sleigh over my horse? And keep the fire going. We need the room to be as hot as possible. This time of year it will never be as warm as I’d like. Jake, take a soft cloth and keep bathing your mother’s face and neck and arms with the cold water. To protect her modesty we won’t bathe the rest of her body unless the fever gets even higher.”

  Simon piled a high stack of wood next to the fireplace so it would be available. Every time he opened the door to get another load, the winds blew in, bringing bursts of snow into the house. But the fire kept burning, and after a few trips Simon settled next to the hearth, blowing on the embers when they burned low, and adding kindling or wood when necessary.

  Jake kept replacing the cool cloths on Mother’s body, while Dr. Theobold went to Frankie and unwrapped the layers of quilts and cloths Jake had wound around him. “Simon, would you heat some water in the kettle?” he asked quietly as he looked at Frankie’s body, and then turned to Jake. “How old is your brother?”

  “Frankie’s six,” said Jake. He hesitated. “He’s always been that way.”

  “Your family has cared for him well,” said the doctor. “Most children born so afflicted die before their third birthdays.” He took the warm water and washed Frankie and tied on a clean clout, removing the dirty one. “His fever is high, but not so high as your mother’s. Does your mother have help to care for him?”