‘She certainly is,’ agreed Charles. ‘Brains, beauty and bravery. Perkins is a lucky man.’ He paused. ‘What about Patrick?’
‘He did well. He dreaded having to kill someone, especially an African, but thankfully it didn’t happen. Thomas too. He rescued Mary and two men. You don’t have to wield a sword to be brave, or even two.’ He rose. ‘Now I shall go to Bridgetown. The men can go back to the fields this afternoon but they should be armed.’
‘Leave it with us, my dear fellow,’ said Charles, patting his stomach. ‘You be off and tell Walrond to deal with these attacks once and for all and we’ll take care of matters here.’
Adam did not return until the next morning, having spent the night in Bridgetown. Charles had stayed to help Thomas and Patrick. If there was any impropriety in this, it had been overlooked in the interests of safety.
In addition to Sprot, Adam brought news. ‘Willoughby’s ship is in the bay,’ he reported, ‘and he’s been sending messages to Walrond. As we thought, he carries Charles Stuart’s commission to take over as governor.’
‘I knew Willoughby would come,’ said Charles.
‘Let us talk about it later,’ said Mary impatiently. ‘First Mr Sprot must see to the wounded men.’
‘I can take him to them,’ offered Thomas.
‘No, Thomas, you stay here. I shall do it.’ Mary was insistent.
Overdressed as always, shirt and stockings drenched in sweat, Sprot was delighted to be of service to the Lytes.
‘Thank you, madam,’ he said, with a grand sweep of his straw hat. ‘I have all my instruments with me and a good supply of bandages, hardly used. We shall need rum. Limbs, like branches, are best pruned when their owner is dormant. I will do everything modern medical practices advise and it will not on this occasion be necessary to request payment in advance.’
‘Well, that’s something anyway.’ Charles did not hold a high opinion of Sprot.
‘Come with me, Mr Sprot,’ said Mary, who could only hobble along on Patrick’s arm. ‘We’ll visit the slaves first. One has a shattered leg, the other a gashed arm.’
‘As you wish, madam. Lead on and I shall follow.’
‘There’s no need for you to go, Mary,’ said Adam, ‘you should be resting. I’ll go with Sprot.’
‘Nonsense. We’ll manage. This is a woman’s work. Come, Mr Sprot.’ And, leaning heavily on her escort, she led the beaming surgeon off towards the slave quarters.
‘So,’ said Charles, when they had sat down, ‘it’s Willoughby. I wish he’d come earlier. He might have prevented the banishments and sequestrations. We don’t need James Drax as an enemy but that’s what we’ve got. Still, it’s a relief. I am not an admirer of Walrond, to say the least.’
‘Nor I. But he has yet to be persuaded to recognize Willoughby’s claim. Now he has power, he’s reluctant to give it up. Hardly a surprise, I suppose.’
‘If he does not receive Willoughby, won’t he be accused of disloyalty to the crown?’ asked Thomas.
‘That’s possible. And Willoughby’s a clever man. He’ll find a way to keep Walrond happy. And don’t forget he has a royal commission for other islands, St Kitts and Antigua among them. He won’t stay here all the time.’
‘Let’s hope he stays here long enough to bring some harmony. We don’t want any more attacks and we don’t want threats of revenge from dispossessed landowners. Willoughby’s commission will mean nothing to them.’
There was a scream from the direction of the slave quarters. ‘Ah, the leg, I fear,’ said Adam. ‘I do hope Mary will make certain that’s the only limb lost today. You can never be sure with Sprot.’
Happily, when Mary returned with Sprot, it was. They had left Patrick with the wounded. ‘He’s a strong man,’ said Sprot, ‘and I am confident that he’ll make a good recovery. I am quick with the saw and your men rendered valuable assistance.’
‘Good, Mr Sprot. And what of the arm?’
‘I was inclined to bleed it or remove it,’ said Sprot, ‘on account of bad blood. It’s a grave risk in such cases. But Miss Lyte insisted that we give the limb more time to heal, so I have applied a remedy of my own devising and bandaged the wound. It may serve, but you should summon me in the event of any deterioration in the condition of the man.’
‘You may be sure that we shall, Mr Sprot. May we take it that the other injuries are also now attended to?’
‘You may, sir. They are comparatively minor, although the splinter wounds could yet fester. I have probed for fragments with the Saviour as you may have heard, but if any remain you will need me again. I will attend tomorrow in the hope of seeing laudable pus, a sure sign of recovery.’
‘Our thanks, Mr Sprot. Now come inside and I shall see to your fee.’
‘Most kind, Mr Lyte, Miss Lyte.’ Ever courteous, Sprot tipped his hat to Mary. ‘An honour to be of service. But would you not wish me to examine your own injury, Miss Lyte?’
‘That won’t be necessary, Mr Sprot. It’s only a graze.’
‘As you wish, madam.’ Sprot was clearly put out.
Mary sat down in the parlour with the men. ‘Thank God that’s over,’ she said when they were out of earshot. ‘The wretch wanted to bleed the arm. Bleed it, for the love of God. He said something about bad blood in the wound. What rubbish. The poor man’s lost quite enough blood as it is, without Sprot taking more. I forbade it.’
‘And I’m quite sure you were right, my dear,’ said Charles, although, in truth, he had no idea whether she was or not. He cared for neither Sprot nor medical matters, especially when they involved saws and knives.
Adam saw Sprot to his horse and came back to join them. ‘We got off lightly and I trust we shall not be called upon to do it again. It was quiet last night, I take it?’
‘It was,’ replied Thomas. ‘We posted sentries but there were no alarms.’
‘And now that you’re back, Adam, I shall take my leave,’ added Charles. ‘I must see that all is well at home. I’ll bring news if I hear any.’
‘We are both in your debt, Charles,’ said Mary. ‘I don’t know what we should have done without you.’
‘Nor I,’ agreed Adam. ‘I wouldn’t have liked to tackle that Viking myself.’
‘All in the course of duty,’ said Charles, adding with a bow to Mary, ‘and pleasure, of course.’
Adam shook his hand, and Mary reached up to kiss him on the cheek. ‘Thank you, Charles. Go well.’
For the love of God, tell Adam you wish to marry her, thought Thomas. Challenge him to a duel if you have to. With two swords.
By that evening, Mary’s wound was worse and she had a fever. Adam put her to bed with a sleeping draught and she was still asleep when Sprot bustled in the next morning. Thomas was sitting at her bedside, where he had been for most of the night.
Having checked on the wounded men, Sprot insisted on visiting Mary and was tut-tutting about not having been permitted to examine her wound the day before. ‘It is never wise to decline the services of an experienced surgeon when they are offered,’ he admonished them, ‘and one’s fee must reflect any difficulties occasioned by delay.’
‘Damn your fee, Sprot,’ barked Adam, ‘my sister’s leg is my concern. Kindly examine it and give us your opinion.’
Sprot peered closely at the wound, pursed his lips and shook his head. ‘It is as I feared, sir. There is no sign of suppuration. The wound cannot heal without laudable pus being expelled. It is essential to healing. There is no sign yet of the patient sinking into delirium but it will come as surely as night follows day. In such cases I have learned from long experience that it is the lesser of two evils to remove the damaged limb at once.’
Adam was horrified. ‘Are you sure, Sprot? The leg looks strong. Is there no alternative?’