Infected Waters: A Titanic Disaster

by Alathia Paris Morgan

  Stopping, unsure of what to do, the steward looked between them. “All right. Two corridors down, take a left. Go three more down and you’ll find the first cabin on the right with the door open.”

  Nora took off at a hurried pace because even nurses didn’t run in public, but she needn’t have worried. The panicked voices along the way directed her where to go.

  Turning the last corner, she ran straight into the broad chest of Jonathan.

  “Excuse me, please. They said you needed a doctor. He’s just behind me,” Nora informed him as she tried to regain her balance.

  Jonathan reached out, placing a hand on her arm to steady her. Nodding her thanks, she stepped around him.

  “Can you please clear the room so I can see the patient?” Nora started trying to move the crew gathered in the doorway. “Jonathan, can you please make sure that Dr. Hughes is able to get through as well? He will be with the steward you sent.”

  “Yes, and thank you.” Turning to the crew, Jonathan declared, “Nothing to see here. Move along everyone. If we require your assistance, we will call for you. We have a voyage to prepare for and our guests will be arriving shortly.” Turning back to Nora, assures, “I’ll clear everyone out and be back if he is able to be moved to the infirmary. We will need to get this room back in shape for the passengers.”

  Pulling the door closed behind her as she entered the room, Nora started to assess the man lying in the bed.

  He was of average height from the way his frame filled the bed. His brown hair was matted to his forehead from fever. Opening the bag she’d carried, she pulled the thermometer from the pocket and placed it into the unconscious man’s mouth.

  One hundred and three degrees was exceptionally high, but there wouldn’t be any way to tell the cause of his illness since he was unable to communicate. A commotion in the hall announced the arrival of the doctor.

  Dr. Hughes approached the bed cautiously, covering his mouth with a handkerchief.

  “Nurse Ryan, what do you believe is the cause of his illness?”

  “Other than taking his temperature, I was waiting for you to start the examination, sir.” Nora had never dealt with a doctor who didn’t want to examine his own patients.

  “Well, in this case I see no reason that you can’t clean this fellow up in the infirmary and let me know if you find anything unusual. It is always best to let sleeping dogs lie, as some would suggest.” The doctor opened the door and motioned to the steward. “Have several of the men carry him quickly so that the boarding passengers don’t see this. Also, get this room cleaned with disinfectant.” The doctor began to make his way back to his room.

  “Uh, sir? Is it contagious?”

  “Good heavens, no, my good man. He is just sleeping off a drunken night. Nothing a few hours in the infirmary won’t cure. We must keep the appearances of the ship intact, am I correct?” Clapping the steward on the shoulder, he left the cleanup to the others.

  Having learned long ago not to question those in authority, the steward moved quickly to make sure that the patient was moved without fanfare.

  If and when the curious crew might inquire about the man after departure, he would inform them of the consequences of one’s drunken behavior.

  ~~~~~~

  Nora did as the doctor asked and removed the patient’s clothes to give him a sponge bath. Normally, the orderlies would take care of something like that, but having worked with unruly doctors before, she knew it was better to get it over with than to risk their anger.

  Thankfully, she was trained to examine the patient, but women doctors were frowned upon, as knowing nothing. But in this case, her assessment was better than no treatment at all.

  Nora gasped as she removed his torn shirt to reveal a chunk of skin missing from his ribs. While it was no longer bleeding, an open wound of such a nature couldn’t be left open or infection would set in.

  Upon further examination, she noticed the long scratches covering his shoulder were red and inflamed where infection had already set in.

  Wiping the cloth across his arms and down to his hands, the scrapes on his palms made her wonder what sort of a scuffle he had gotten into. The dirt under his nails were normal for a working man, but the knees of his pants were also ripped and torn as well.

  “What on earth chased you?” Nora questioned aloud, causing a moan from the man in front of her.

  Jonathan poked his head through the infirmary door before she could determine any more reasons for his pain.

  “Is there anything I can help with?” He asked awkwardly, shifting his weight back and forth between his feet.

  Stepping around the partition, Nora sighed. “Actually, yes. Could you help me remove his pants so I can clean the scrapes on his knees? I can’t lift him, and it looks like you’ve arrived just in time.”

  Nora removed the patient’s shoes while Jonathan helped dispose of his pants, leaving his underpants on. The removal revealed deep scratches running up the back of his calf, from his ankle to his knee.

  “Have you ever seen anything like this before?” Jonathan questioned worriedly.

  “I have not, but I would think it could be what is causing his fever to be so high. An infection like this must have happened several days ago.” Nora shook her head in frustration. “How did he go unnoticed coming onto the ship?”

  “Stowaways are not unheard of, and the night watchmen were making sure things didn’t leave the ship instead of making certain nothing snuck onto it.” Picking up a clean pair of pajama pants to begin dressing the patient, Jonathan stopped. “Shouldn’t we call the doctor to exam these wounds? He believes this man is just hungover.”

  “No, he doesn’t think this man is hungover. That might be what he told you to tell the crew, but drunk men don’t run fevers of 103 degrees. He is more concerned with becoming sick himself.” Nora continued to clean around the infected areas.

  “Aren’t you worried that you could catch whatever he has?” Jonathan asked as he tried not to take a step back in fear.

  Pointing to his obvious scrapes, Nora replied, “The only way for this type of infection to spread would be if you had an open wound and it touched yours. I would like to know what caused it though.” Nora rose to empty the water and returned with a bottle of alcohol to cleanse the gashes. “Find someone you can trust. Have him come and hold this man down while I pour this over his wounds. I can’t stitch him up until the infection goes away.” Nora continued to prep by collecting bandages to wrap his legs, chest and shoulder.

  Jonathan left to do as she asked. He returned a short time later with two of the men who had helped to carry the patient to the infirmary.

  “Keep watch outside, and don’t let anyone inside.” Jonathan warned one of the men. “Now you, grab hold of his arms while I hold his feet,” he commanded his other subordinate.

  “Are we ready?” Holding a towel next the patient’s neck to catch any alcohol that dripped, Nora was in place.

  “Yes.” They both answered in unison.

  “Tightly, now. Even unconscious, his body will react.” Nora began pouring the liquid over the shoulder wounds.

  The man simply moaned and shook his head back and forth.

  Waiting for his body to recover slightly, Nora moved into position by his chest.

  “Lift him up onto his side under the shoulder, and do it gently. I need to make sure I get the entire side of his chest area covered. Quickly, so it doesn’t hurt his other wounds.” Nora knew the wounds on the back of his leg were going to hurt worse since they appeared to be much deeper.

  Wincing as the liquid poured out, Nora wasn’t expecting the reaction from the unconscious man.

  The scream of pain from the man erupted and Patrick, the man holding his arms, lost hold of him as he jerked. In the process of trying to regain hold of his shoulders, Patrick accidentally pressed on the shoulder with the scratches, causing the man to bite his wrist.

  “What the bloody hell?” Patrick yelled as he tried to detac
h the man’s teeth from his arm. “He won’t let go! Bloody hell, that hurts!”

  Jonathan let go of his hold on the man’s feet and leaned forward to pry the man’s teeth from Patrick’s arm.

  “Wait. If you rip the teeth away, you’ll cause more damage to his arm.” Nora cautioned as she tried to be gentle.

  “Forget what she says. Get this mad man off me now. AGHHH!”

  Jonathan reached behind the patient’s head and pinched the base of his neck, causing him to release Patrick’s arm.

  Covering the dripping wound immediately, Nora pulled Patrick over to the side. “Press this on it and don’t move.” Turning to get the alcohol and a fresh bandage, Nora didn’t want Patrick to think about what was coming next.

  Moving his arm over the basin, Nora sighed as she lifted the bandage to uncover a perfect impression of teeth.

  “It’s torn, but not ripped to shreds. Once we get it clean I can stitch it, yet when it heals, the skin will be so tight it might tear either way.”

  “Just pour the stuff already. Bandage it up. I’m going to go lie down in my bunk and get drunk,” Patrick stated as he eyed Jonathan, willing him to say anything contrary.

  Seeing his determined look, Nora stated, “I’ll come and check on you later. Here, take this medicine and it will help with the pain. It works much faster than liquor would. Jonathan, can you make sure he makes it to his bunk?”

  “Yes. The gentlemen outside will be able to help if he has trouble,” Jonathan assured her.

  As Patrick started to sway, Jonathan snaked an arm behind his back, placing Patrick’s hand over his shoulder.

  Nora hurried to open the door for them.

  “What?”

  “How did you get hurt, Patrick?” the steward standing outside the door asked.

  “Shut up. I got bit,” Patrick growled.

  “Bit? You mean you let a dog get his teeth that close to you?”

  “No. It’s what happens when you help another bloke out.” Swinging his bandaged arm through the air, Patrick almost hit the steward standing there.

  “Really, gentlemen, pull yourselves together. We have a ship to launch. Take Patrick to his bunk and return to your post please. Not a word to anyone about this, remember?”

  Jonathan dismissed them and hurried to the deck, hoping nothing else would upset the passengers as they boarded.

  Chapter 4

  Hearing the noise and commotion from the decks, Gil began to pace around the kitchen.

  “That does it.” The Chef threw down the spoon he had been stirring with.

  Startled, Gil looked around in concern.

  “Sir?”

  “You’re going to wear out the floor if we don’t go up and see this ship out of the wharf, aren’t you?” Covering the big bowl of bread just starting to rise, he walked to the sink to wash away the flour coating his arms.

  Grinning sheepishly, he replied, “Sorry, sir. This is such an exciting moment.”

  “It certainly is, so we might as well take a look at this historic event, because the only other history we will be making is more bread for dinner,” the Chef chuckled to himself.

  Making their way out of the kitchen and into the corridors, bustling with people, Gil began to wonder if the ship could hold everyone.

  Belfast was a large town, but looking down upon the teeming groups of people on the boat and wharf was simply overwhelming.

  “See there, my boy. Everyone is out to see us off,” Joughin announced, making room for them at the rails.

  Gil was pushed into a younger girl as the crowd behind them tried to reach a point where they could look over the railing.

  “Sorry,” Gil apologized.

  “No, it’s all right. Good thing everyone is so worried about being a social spectacle,” Lilian giggled.

  “If that’s all that’s keeping them in line, then we are all doomed.” Gil winked.

  Joughin took a few streamers from his pocket and passed them to Gil and Lillian. “Hold the end and toss the roll out as far as you can so someone can hold onto it from below. Like this.” He proceeded to show them, his streamer fluttering in the wind as it unfurled.

  They watched it land by a little boy, who picked it up and waved.

  “Quickly! Throw your streamers before we are too far from the wharf,” Joughin urged.

  Wonder filled their faces as they followed the streamers into the hands of strangers who waved up at them.

  “Look! They got our streamers. Wave at them, umm…what’s your name?” Lillian turned to Gil with a frown.

  “I’m Gil Tierney.”

  Smiling, she responded, “I’m Lillian Lambert. Nice to meet you.”

  Turning back to the streamers, Lillian focused her attention to the people on the wharf who were waving good-bye to loved ones and strangers alike.

  “Isn’t it wonderful? So many people gathered to wish us well. Aren’t we the lucky ones?” Lillian sighed contentedly.

  “Lucky?” Gil asked, questioning her sanity. “Strangers here to wish us good-bye isn’t lucky.”

  “Of course it is. We have it all and they are hoping we make it safely, but secretly they are screaming at us,” Lillian answered confidently.

  “I hear lots of screaming all around us, but I don’t know anyone down there, or up here for that matter.” Confused, Gil waited for her response.

  “Silly. Their screaming on the inside. Why aren’t I up there? Why didn’t I go with them? They get to explore the world.” Gesturing with her hands, she included the horizon filled with people.

  “You really think people are saying that? I’m just lucky to have a place to sleep tonight. Nothing to be jealous about, that’s for sure.”

  “Oh. Well, I hadn’t thought of it that way, but you’re right. We are luckier than I originally thought. Most people probably haven’t given us a single moment of their time, yet there are just a few, for many reasons, who are envious of us.”

  “I don’t think I could be positive like you.” Gil tried to keep the end of his streamer in sight as they picked up speed, moving away from the wharf.

  “Even if you see the glass as empty, it can always be refilled,” Lillian countered.

  “Hmmm,” Gil mumbled non-committedly.

  “We must return to our duties, young pastry chef, if we are to have dinner prepared in time. Bonjour, Mademoiselle,” Chef Joughin yelled at the pair to be heard above the roars drifting up from those on the wharf below.

  “Pleasure meeting you, Miss Lillian. I must return to the drudgery of the kitchens to cook a tasty meal just for you.” He gave her a half bow as he turned to follow the Chef through the now thinning groups of people.

  “Gil Tierney, we will meet again. When it’s meant to be, it generally occurs somehow, no matter if we try to stop it or not,” she called after him before he disappeared.

  “Who are you shouting at, angel?” Richard asked as he made his way to her side at the railing.

  “A nice young man named Gil. He’s a baker on the ship, and the head baker gave both of us streamers to toss.” Lillian’s enthusiasm bubbled over as she tried to explain such an important moment. “It was wonderful!”

  “I’m glad you’ve made a new friend, but if we don’t head back to your mother, we will be in serious trouble.” Richard tried to keep smiling, but it faltered when Lillian sighed.

  “Mother will be so upset, but I’m so glad we got to see the ship off. Now we must return to the dungeon.” Lillian began to walk slowly to their berths.

  “Cheer up. When we are settled and your mother is resting, then we can take a turn about the decks and explore this magnificent ship.” Richard smiled as Lillian began to skip along at a much faster pace.

  The awkward age between child and young woman, Richard thought to himself, watching as she came upon a couple. Turning to allow them room, she offered a curtsey.

  Nodding at the same couple, he hurried to catch up to Lillian.

  ~~~~~~

  Gil was cert
ain that his arms were going to fall off by the time they finished baking all the bread needed for the evening’s meal. While he had been joined by an army of bakers, there had been hours of work left to finish before he could go to his bunk for a rest. As he left to make his way to the crew’s kitchen, his stomach rumbled, reminding him of a missed breakfast. Thankfully, the cooks always had a pot of soup on so those working could manage to eat a bite while they had a few moments available.

  Taking a bowl and helping himself, Gil snagged a piece of bread and dipped it into the soup as he left to return to his quarters.

  He almost bumped into a beautiful girl in a nurse’s uniform.

  “Sorry, Miss,” Gil apologized.

  “No harm done.” She winked cheekily at him and flounced into the kitchen.

  Gil stood outside and finished his bowl within seconds. Turning to go back in for more, he overheard the nurse complaining.

  “You just wouldn’t believe it. She acts like God himself appointed her to watch over this ship.” The nurse emphasized her point by crossing herself.

  “Can’t you just let the doctor know? He’s the one in charge, after all.” The cook leaned his flabby arms on the counter, holding the spoon up with one hand.

  “No. The doctor hasn’t done more than sip from his bottle in his private room. He’ll be no help for this, so I will suffer through it. It’s only a few days and we will be in America.”

  “What’s her name? I’ll make sure to spit in her food for ya,” the cook offered cheerfully.

  “Nah. If she keeps it up then I might have you do that, but for now, I have to get back and watch over the patient for my shift.” Rolling her eyes, the nurse accepted the bowl from the cook.

  Gil interrupted by coming back in for seconds, afraid to ask, but desperately curious to know who the patient was.

  “So someone’s already got the seasickness, eh?” Gil asked casually, holding his bowl out to the cook.

  “Nah. We’ve had a few with the sea ills, but this bloke was found unconscious in one of the second class berths. Don’t know what ails him. Though he did bite one of the blokes trying to clean his wounds,” she willingly explained.