The Stowaway

XXVIII

"I will have poetry in my life. And adventure. And love. Love above all." Marc Norman, Shakespeare in Love: A Screenplay

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XXVIII.

"What do I do?" Eliza asked desperately of Jackie, as he rushed to his captain's side.

The crew followed suit, looking over Tom with concerned eyes, and bloodied and bruised faces.

She placed her hand on the hilt of the dagger. "Do I pull it out?" she panicked. Why was Tom unconscious? Why was he awake and not shouting at her like he should be? He had only been hurt a moment ago!

"No!" cried Jackie. "Do not touch it. He is passed out from the pain, Eliza," explained Jackie, his eyes flashing wildly as he assessed and decided what to do. "The blade is the only thing keeping him from bleeding out on this deck. We need to burn the wound shut and pray to God that there is no serious damage inside."

As he said the words, Eliza noticed he had his rosary in his hands. She was silently thankful that someone as pious as Jackie was praying for Tom.

"Cian, Diarmuid!" Jackie suddenly shouted. "Heat a blade. Allez! Dépêche-toi!" he shouted in French.

Eliza had never heard Jackie speak French before this day, aside for his swearing at her discovery, and she thought that it must have come from stress. The only French that she had learned during her mother's desperate lessons to civilise her were the swear words, and she felt like shouting every one of them.

Eliza lifted Tom's head onto her lap and felt completely helpless in all aspects. She really had no idea what to do but cry and panic. She was not the one who was hurt, but she felt as she was. What would she do if something happened to Tom? The thought of him dying was unbearable.

Cian and Diarmuid returned with a knife that had been put in a flame. It was burning red and looked lethal. The blade was handed by the hilt to Jackie. He took a deep breath and placed his hand on the blade protruding from Tom's abdomen. As quick as lightning, he pulled the dagger from Tom, lifted his shirt to expose his stomach, and forced the blazing steel against Tom's skin.

Tom sat bolt upright and screamed, suddenly conscious and in another realm of agony. The stench of burned flesh suddenly filled the air, but Jackie did not relent. Cian and Diarmuid pounced on Tom, holding him down as Jackie burned every inch of Tom's wound, sealing it shut.

Eliza watched in horror as Jackie pulled the blade away to reveal Tom's blistered, burned skin. He was no longer bleeding, despite his stomach being stained with blood, but he was writhing in agony, the veins in his forehead and forearms protruding so far that she thought they might burst.

Clean cloth was fetched, and Eliza was able to help bind Tom's abdomen.

"He must keep it clean, to keep out disease," Jackie warned Eliza.

Eliza nodded seriously.

Tom was helped to his feet and supported up the stairs and into the bed in the cabin. He was trying to control his groans and cries, but he was in so much pain, and Eliza felt useless.

She looked behind her at Captain Frost, who was still lying on the deck, and she cursed him. He belonged in hell.

"Can I get you something for the pain?" Eliza aske Tom desperately just as soon as he was lying down. "Some rum, or whiskey?" Surely he would not object now.

"No," he replied gruffly.

"It will help!" she insisted, wanting to do anything to make him feel better.