For three days did Jackson lie on his bed; I supplied him with water, but he did not eat anything. He groaned heavily at times, and talked much to himself, and I heard him ask forgiveness of God, and pardon for his sins. I noted this down for an explanation. On the third day, he said to me:
“Henniker, I am very ill. I have a fever coming on, from the wound you have given me. I do not say that I did not deserve it, for I did, and I know that I have treated you ill; and that you must hate me; but the question is, do you wish me to die?”
“No,” replied I, “I want you to live, and answer all my questions, and you shall do so.”
“I will do so,” replied he. “I have done wrong, and I will make amends. Do you understand me? I mean to say, that I have been very cruel to you, and now I will do all you wish, and answer every question you may put to me, as well as I can.”
“That is what I want,” replied I.
“I know it is, but my wound is festering, and must be washed and dressed. The feathers make it worse. Will you do this for me?”
I thought a little, and recollected that he was still in my power, as he could not obtain water. I replied, “Yes, I will.”
“The cord hurts it, you must take it off.”
I fetched the kid of water, and untied the cord, and took away the feathers, which had matted together with the flow of blood, and then I washed the wound carefully. Looking into the wound, my desire of information induced me to say, “What are these little white cords which are cut through?”
“They are the sinews and tendons,” replied he, “by which we are enabled to move our hands and fingers; now these are cut through, I shall not have the use of my hand again.”