Barney said, "Have you struck?"
Behind him posed the invading force, eager for victory, not yet realizing it had been won. But a sudden silence pervaded the scene. The British captain held tight to the forecastle rail, because without its support he could not stand. He said, in the stillness:
"Lower the colors." His eyes met Barney's; three officers were at his side, and his remaining crew clustered on the forecastle. He drew his sword from its sheath; the sunlight gleamed on the blade and the silver hilt. With a savage gesture he threw it; it sailed like an arc into the muddy river.
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"I should never surrender it to a damned rebel, Barney!" Joshua heard no more. Blood was streaming from his leg. He staggered and Barney caught him as he fell.
Chapter 15
DOUGLASS SAT VERY STILL IN THE CARRIAGE, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. The driver had stopped the carriage at the top of the steep hill where Joshua had dismounted that morning. They had not been able to go any further because of the densely packed crowds.
The city bells were still tolling. At the wharf was the "Triton," her great masts dwarfing the other craft. Proud she looked, and stately in capture. On her gaff floated the stars and stripes.
Douglass had been waiting here for half an hour. She had not spoken, so Lucie kept silence too. But Lucie moved restlessly in the seat, whereas madam sat in cold silence, not moving even a finger. For the tenth time Lucie prayed a silent slow prayer that M'sieur was safe. They knew that Barney was unhurt; word had already circulated through the crowd that he was on the quarterdeck of the "Triton," that he had aimed a pistol at Read and taken command. They knew that Read had been killed later. The crowd was shouting at Barney; they called his name. Then Douglass suddenly saw that the crowd was parting, ahead of the carriage, and the first wounded were being carried from the "Triton."
The hammocks swung between their bearers. The sight dampened the cries of victory. Then Douglass saw two uniformed men carrying a chair between them. She flung open the door of the coach and ran toward them.
Some of the people near called out, in jeers. Douglass paid no attention. She came up to the British captain just as the two officers set him and the chair down opposite a coach.
"Captain Rodgers," Douglass cried.
He looked up at her. "Lady Annan," he muttered incredulously.
"Sir, you are hurt!" He had taken the hand she held out; the two British officers looked at her with certain longing; their captain was kissing her hand. He was saying:
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"My dear, how do you come here? It is under miserable circumstances that we meet." He smiled a little. "But the wound—it is not much."
"Where are you going, Captain Rodgers?" Douglass asked.
"To a certain Quaker lady: Miss Goodenough. Lieutenant Barney has arranged it. We have given our parole. And I am forgetting the amenities. Your ladyship, allow me to present Lieutenants Mr. Mitchell and Laux. And my surgeon, Mr. Wilkes."
"I am charmed, gentlemen," Douglass said. "It is good fortune that you will be residing next door to me. I shall look forward to the pleasure of your company."
Around them, the people crowded and stared. The damned British were as cool and unconcerned as though they were chatting on the Strand. The captain was once more kissing the lady's hand in farewell. "I trust we part for a very short time, then."
Douglass smiled and swept them a curtsey. "Adieu, then." She turned slowly and went back to the carriage, the people making way for her grudgingly. In a sort of daze, the coachman jumped down and held the door for her. He slammed it.
"We shall return home now," Douglass said, her head high.
Lucie stifled a cry of protest. The carriage swung around and started back toward Sixth Street. Once more Douglass maintained silence. The two carriages left the mob behind; Douglass did not see that another carriage followed them closely.
They drew up in front of the house in a matter of minutes. Douglass stepped from the carriage. Lucie followed more slowly, keeping her eyes on the wide street. At the doorway she heard Douglass instruct Marston to send two hams, a case of brandy, egg§, apples and a wedge of cheese next door to Miss Goodenough. "And you will kindly ask Miss Goodenough if she is in need of anything further, Marston."
"Yes, madam," Marston said. Then they both turned as Lucie let out a cry.
"Mon Dieul"
She ran out the big doors, dashing toward the coach which had stopped out front where theirs had just driven off to the stables. The door flew open and she heard Joshua's voice.
"For Christ's sake, I can walk!"
"Don't try it, sir," said the man whose back was to Lucie. "You'll hurry the bleeding again."
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Joshua's face was set with pain. His trouser leg had been sHt, and it flapped as he stumbled out of the coach. Lucie saw the heavy bloodstained bandage around his upper leg. Another man seized him from the side. Douglass had also come flying down the path. She took one look at Joshua; her quick mind came to a rapid decision. There would be few doctors available.
"Lucie! Prepare his bed! Marston, show the men where to take him. Oh, Joshua," she cried, then she took to her heels. She ran straight to Miss Goodenough's parlor, coming to a stop before the surgeon, Mr. Wilkes.
"Come, please, sir!" she said. "We need you! Desperately. Please!"
Without a word he took up his bag, which he had set down in the hallway. Douglass fled back along the brick sidewalk with him following.
The men had carried Joshua upstairs and laid him on his bed. Partridge and Marston were with them; they removed his boots; they were preparing to undress him, and Lucie picked up the bloodstained boots and carried them out into the hallway, shutting the door behind her. Then Douglass came flying up the stairs with Wilkes behind her. Lucie spoke up.
"I can aid you, sir. I aided the nuns!"
"We'll see," he said. He entered the room, with Douglass after him. Lucie saw him bend over Joshua and start to unwrap the bandages.
"Get the fire lighted for the iron," he said as he took out his scissors to slit the bandage. He dropped the bandages in the slop bucket; he lifted Joshua's leg. Then he laid it down again on the bed.
"Fetch linen," he said to Lucie. And to Douglass, "The bullet will have to be removed. It looks like a large calibre; it may be embedded in the bone."
Joshua had closed his eyes in the pain of having his leg lifted. Now he opened them and regarded Wilkes with suddenly narrowed eyes. "Who the hell are you?" he asked,
"Mr. Wilkes, Joshua, the surgeon of the 'Triton,' " Douglass said breathlessly.
"The bullet, sir, did not come out—it's still there; I deeply regret to tell you." Wilkes leaned down and fished in his bag. Lucie came back with linen. She folded a sheet in fourths and slid it deftly under the injured leg. She paid no attention to the surgeon or the other
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men. She filled a basin with water, and started to bathe Joshua's face in the cool water. Then she took scissors and started to rip out bandages from an old soft sheet.
The surgeon was wiping the blood away from the wound; it was not welling up so fast now. "I shall have to probe," he said.
Lucie poured some brandy into a glass. She held it to Joshua's lips. "Drink it, sir," she whispered.
He gulped it down. He saw the glitter of the instrument in Wilkes's hand. He set his teeth.
The pain was excruciating. It came in terrible waves. Then it stopped. He sucked in a breath. "Jesus," he muttered.