Worn out by her ceaseless labours at Scutari, she had probably been specially open to infection in the sick officer’s hut, and while on board the London it became clear that she had contracted Crimean fever in a very bad form.
She was ordered up to the huts amid such dreadful lamentations of the surrounding folk that, thanks to their well-meant delays, it took an hour to carry her up to the heights, her faithful nurse, Mrs. Roberts, keeping off the sun-glare by walking beside her with an umbrella, and her page-boy Thomas weeping his heart out at the tail of the little procession.
A spot was found after her own heart near a running stream where the wild flowers were in bloom, and she tells in her Nursing Notes how her first recovery began when a nosegay of her beloved flowers was brought to her bedside. But for some days she was desperately ill, and the camp was unspeakably moved and alarmed.
Britain also shared deeply in the suspense, though happily the worst crisis was passed in about twelve days, leaving, however, a long time of great weakness and slow convalescence to be won through afterwards.
During those twelve days some very sharp skirmishing took place, and there was talk of an attack on Balaclava from the Kamara side, in which case Miss Nightingale’s hut would, it was said, be the first outpost to be attacked. Any such notion was, of course, an injustice to the Russians, who would not knowingly have hurt a hair of her head—indeed, it may almost be said that she was sacred to all the troops, whether friends or foes. But at all events it gave her boy Thomas his opportunity, and he was prepared, we are told, “to die valiantly in defence of his mistress.”
Soyer gives a picturesque account of Lord Raglan’s visit to Miss Nightingale when her recovery was first beginning. He begins by describing his own visit, and tells the story through the lips of Mrs. Roberts, Miss Nightingale’s faithful nurse.
“ ... I was,” he writes, “very anxious to know the actual state of Miss Nightingale’s health, and went to her hut to inquire. I found Mrs. Roberts, who was quite astonished and very much delighted to see me.
“‘Thank God, Monsieur Soyer,’ she exclaimed, ‘you are here again. We have all been in such a way about you. Why, it was reported that you had been taken prisoner by the Russians. I must go and tell Miss Nightingale you are found again.’
“‘Don’t disturb her now. I understand Lord Raglan has been to see her.’
“‘Yes, he has, and I made a serious mistake. It was about five o’clock in the afternoon when he came. Miss Nightingale was dozing, after a very restless night. We had a storm that day and it was very wet. I was in my room sewing when two men on horseback, wrapped in large gutta-percha cloaks and dripping wet, knocked at the door. I went out, and one inquired in which hut Miss Nightingale resided.