The Boy From Ballyclerahan

Chapter 11: The Doctor

Schooner Fanny, Bay de Verde, Newfoundland, June 6th, 1811

"Hold still, boy!" said the doctor, cheeks flushed with frustration as he struggled to examine the back of the boy's throat. Soundtracked with an annoying whine, Liam made it his life's mission to avoid being examined by the crotchety figure lording over him. He shook his head in protest, his lips tightly pursed, with neither tooth nor tonsil visible despite the physician's probing.

The elderly doctor ran his hands through his thinning, gray hair, pulling at their ends before slapping both thighs in frustration. "For the love of God, man, grab ahold of his head! He's boppin' around like a tomcod in a dillroom," he said to the dwarf, standing behind his son but doing nothing to rectify the situation. "What kind of father are you anyways?" the doctor continued. "You've got him spoiled rotten. Have you either spine in you or what?" He laid the blame for Liam's behaviour solely on Ed, his own rough bedside manner garnering not even the slightest consideration.

The doctor turned to Liam. "Where's your mother, boy? Didn't she teach you any discipline? Can't rely on a father to bring children up right."

Ed gasped at the statement, his body writhing as memories returned in a flood. It was true. He knew nothing about raising a child. It was all Eliza. While he was off socializing with Lords and other highborns, she kept the family humming. She nurtured them, taught them, fed them. Why hadn't he paid attention?

"Mama's dead, 'by! She's dead!" Liam yelled. He stood firmly, puffing out his chest and twisting his face into a scowl. There were no tears, just a look of defiance and indignation.

"Dead? Well, I'll be! So sorry for your loss, youngster," the doctor's voice lowering in volume now. The wrinkles framing his deep set eyes flattened a little. He stared at Liam for a moment, then turned to his father. "Sir," he nodded in condolence, a confusing shift from his initial approach.

Ed's throat tightened and his vision blurred, his tears betraying him. He wanted to intervene but felt paralyzed. Instead, Liam had to stand up for himself. And that he did, with confidence. Like his mother would have. Through Ed's blind of shame, a ray of pride pierced. He stared back at the doctor, reddened eyes drying now. He straightened his back and shoulders. "If you are finished antagonizing my son, can we get on with it so we can leave this God foresaken ship," he said to the doctor, his voice calm but firm.

The doctor reared his head back and twisted his mouth in offence, staring back at the dwarf. "Now there's no need to get nasty about it! Just stating the facts. For the boy's welfare, of course."

"We would like to leave now, doctor," Ed repeated, with the most respectful tone he could manage, whatever it takes to get off this ship.

"Yes, I'm sure you would. We're getting to that." The doctor turned to Liam again, pondering. His eyes crinkled again. "Is your mother still on board?" he asked, examining every inch of the boy's exposed skin, searching for the tell-tale rash that would see these two quarantined for quite some time. 

"On board?! She's dead, I told ya. Ya stupid arse!" the boy yelled, looking highly offended at the doctor's frank question.

"It's ok, Liam," Ed comforted, gently squeezing his arm.

"Yes, yes, you've told me that. But is her body still on the ship or did they throw her overboard? Tell me the truth now, boy," he continued, any prior shred of empathy having vanished.

Ed took a deep breath before interrupting. "The boy's mother died during the voyage and was buried at sea. The same as the others. This has been all recorded." He squeezed Liam's arm again. He needed to be strong for the boy.