Page 8 of A Castaway in Cornwall
—BELLABATHURST,THEWRECKERS
Chapter 2
The man had looked small in Jago’s arms, but he looked larger laid in the modest guest-room bed. His shoulders were noticeably broader than his trim waist. He was perhaps thirty years of age with thick, wavy brown hair and a slim nose. Whisker stubble a shade darker than his hair shadowed the lower half of his face. He wore basic breeches, stockings, a shirt of cotton lawn. If he’d had shoes, hat, or greatcoat, the sea had claimed them. Nothing about the garments gave her any clue to his identity, though the fine shirt might be that of a gentleman.
“Let’s get him out of these wet things,” Miss Chegwin said.
With Jago’s help, the older woman stripped off his clothes and began washing the sand and blood from the injured man. Laura carried the wet garments down to the laundry.
Before she settled them into the tub, Laura searched for but found no identifying marks in the neck of his shirt or waistband of his breeches. As was common, the breeches had a buttoned fall flap that covered the front opening. This broad flap concealed a hip pocket. In it, she found three gold guineas and asilver pocket watch. The face displayed the usual Roman numeral hours and nothing else.
Leaving the clothes to soak, Laura returned to the guest room.
There Miss Chegwin was examining the man gently and methodically, his lower torso covered by a sheet.
After her years as a midwife, Mary Chegwin had worked as chamber nurse for Dr. Dawe, attending patients during their convalescence or journeys to eternity. Dr. Dawe had insisted she retire a few years ago due to her age, but the woman knew a great deal and had far more experience than Laura, especially where shipwreck victims were concerned.
The fact that she was needed again seemed to buoy Mary’s spirits, and she suddenly appeared younger than her years, bending over her patient and testing the wholeness of his limbs.
“Ankle is swollen and bruised. I don’t think it’s broken, but can’t be sure. Rope burns on his wrists. Maybe he tried tying himself to some wreckage. There’s also an abrasion on the back of his head. Perhaps the mast or some other debris hit him.”
She paused at a cut in his side. “Oh now, here’s the worst yet. Deep it is. We’ll have to clean and bandage that. Good thing he’s out of his senses, for salt water stings something fierce.”
Mary opened her old medicine case and began treating the wounds with murky tinctures and odoriferous salves while Laura assisted. Laura had been rather young to be of much help to her physician-father, but she had done what she could and had seen him working with enough patients that the actions now seemed natural.
Newlyn knocked and announced, “Mr. Kent, miss.”
Perran Kent entered, a leather case in hand that gleamed as though brand-new. Laura introduced him to Miss Chegwin.
“Sure and I know’ee, lad. Nursed’ee through the croup years ago. Never knew a lad to cry so much. I hope you’ve outgrown it.”
Perry cleared his throat. “I have.”
He examined the patient much as Mary had, taking in the bruises, abrasions, and swollen ankle, which he declared was only sprained. “This is my first shipwreck, thank God, so I don’t know if such injuries are common or not.”
Mary nodded. “Could be much worse, as I’ve seen.”
“Then thank heaven for small mercies.” He frowned at the deep wound in the victim’s side. “We had better stitch this up. I am no surgeon, mind, but I learned to do a bit of everything at Guy’s.”
He laid a hand over the man’s brow. “He’s very cold. Better build up the fire too.”
Laura hurried to do so, but Jago was there before her, bending to the hearth. Seeing Newlyn hovering in the doorway, Laura said, “Please ask Wenna to send up a warming pan.”
“Yes, miss.” Newlyn hurried away, likely glad for a chance to distance herself from Jago as well as the stranger.
Perry gathered supplies from his bag. When he hesitated to pierce the skin, Miss Chegwin took the needle from him and began doing the stitching herself. “Women are better with needles, I find. We’ve had more practice.”
Perry nodded in relief. “It’s a mercy for him that he has yet to regain his senses. Though if he doesn’t soon, he may not at all. He might have gone without air too long.”
Laura drew a deep breath.Please, God, no.
Old Mary’s fingers were bent and frail, but they worked deftly. After a few minutes, she snipped the thread.
Perry studied her work. “Well done, Miss Chegwin. If I decide to stay and practice here, I would be honored to have you as my chamber nurse.”
“Dr. Dawe says I’m too old.”
“Then Dr. Dawe is a fool.”
