“Don’t you know that cholera is raging there?”
“There certainly are a few cases. Do you think I can do anything for her?”
“No, I am sure you cannot; she is not allowed to take anything, and the doctors have forbidden any one to be admitted, except her private nurse, Mrs. Roberts.”
It was then getting late—Mr. Bracebridge had not returned. The captain and P. M. gave me a full account of this lamentable event. It appeared that about noon Miss Wear had come on board to see Miss Nightingale upon business. She found that lady very poorly, but thinking it was a slight indisposition, took no notice of it, more especially as Miss Nightingale did not complain in the least. About two, by the orders of Mrs. Roberts, they were obliged to send in a great hurry for a doctor. Mrs. Roberts stated that her mistress had been suddenly taken dangerously ill—that she was in fact attacked by the worst form of Crimean fever. The first thing ordered by the doctor was her instant removal to the hospital on the heights.
“So,” said the captain, who was relating this part of the sad history, “I set all my men to work. We got a stretcher from the hospital, and she was carried very carefully by my men and some soldiers sent by the governor.”
“I followed through Balaklava,” said P. M., “amidst a regular procession of soldiers, holding a white umbrella over her face. The crowd was so great, we could scarcely pass, and it took us nearly an hour to get up to the heights. I assure you, all Balaklava was in an uproar.”
“What do the doctors say of the case?”
“That the lady is dangerously ill, and that no one must go near her, not even Mr. Bracebridge.”
“What mournful tidings!” I said. “I should not be surprised if she caught the fever from the patient at Dr. Henderson’s. I warned her of the danger of exposing herself so much several times.”
“By-the-bye, where is Mr. Bracebridge?”