The Captain's Beloved

7 - Dealing with Delirium

Jules finally came around as I kept a solitary vigil beside him, and although he awoke in a state of delirium, I could have predicted the first words he uttered.

"Why is there a bloody draft in my undercarriage?" He followed this up by trying to climb out of the cot. I gently nudged him back down.

"You're in a bathing cot, Captain. We're trying to bring your fever down."

I smiled at him as he took his time to scrutinize his surroundings. When his gaze landed on my face, I desperately hoped he would recognize me. But I knew his condition would likely cause him visual impairment.

"Oh, hello. I must be deceased. That's a relief."

My heart stuttered at his morbid admission. Had he really given up hope? "Why would you say that?"

He continued to squint at me as if it pained him. "You look like an angel I know."

Again, my heart leaped. Could he be speaking of me? Perhaps, that was too presumptuous. He was likely thinking of his sister, Alice. "I assure you, we are both living. Do you remember where you were before you became ill?"

He let his head fall to one side, staring past me with unfocused eyes. "On a journey to nowhere."

Oh, dear.

Where had Jules's mind taken him? Nowhere good, it seemed. I needed to guide him out of his melancholy. I took his wrist gently to check his pulse. "We all have somewhere we would like to be. Where would you like to be, Captain?"

He offered no reply. He just stared at my hand on his wrist. I gave it another go. "You're going to be just fine. The matron of the infirmary fetched you herself. She likely saved you from a much worse fate."

He grunted. "Some people aren't worth saving."

His words pierced my heart like a sword, reminding me of the awful despair his father fell into after the passing of Jules's mother. I was beginning to truly worry about his state of mind when Matron Orwell appeared at the screen.

"Ah, it seems our patient has responded well to your tending. How long has he been awake?"

"Nary a minute. And his pulse is already gaining strength."

"Good. It must have been the sight of your familiar face that did it."

As she sat down to check his temperature, Jules studied me, still clearly confused. "So, you were lying to me. You are the angel I know."

Matron Orwell's gaze flicked across the cot.

"I said both of us were living," I told him quickly. "I'm afraid I don't know this angel you speak of."

"His fever has broken. We need to get him out of the tub and dried off." As the matron prepared his towels, I helped Jules stand. It was then that he realized he was unclothed.