Samuel and Ben Tallmadge Short One Shot

Shameful Confessions

"Samuel? When was the last time you ate?" Benjamin patiently question, staring at the broken shell of his younger brother. While Benjamin knew his brother had survived the direct horrors of the HMS Jersey, it looked doubtful that he would overcome the lingering effects of the imprisonment. That is, if something wasn't immediately done to rectify Samuel's lamentable condition.

Clouded and reddened azure hues flicker upwards from a pair of sunken hollows. The deep shadows caught under his eyes only enhance the boney slopes of his sharply chiseled cheeks and jaw-line. Samuel's skin is ghastly pale, a shade much fainter than unadulterated parchment. A slight rosy flush stains his face, like a thin racing stripe. It starts from one cheek, moves across the bridge of his nose, and extends to the other. The tint is from the fatigue and sickness that still clings to him, even after being freed from the Jersey.

The once muscular and sturdy framed soldier, now sat before his elder brother emaciated, frail, and nearly lifeless. He could not help but feel that every ounce of him was a pitiful disgrace. He hated appearing as a feeble and inadequate failure in Benjamin's eyes. (He inwardly presumes to know what his brother is feeling and thinking) For the only thing besides God's and his earthly father's favor that he strove to earn was his beloved brother's. Now, he felt so very far removed from ever achieving that prize. Especially, in his current condition.

A persistent cough plagued his lungs with low thundering rumbles which, are rapidly followed by a white hot lightning-like sensation shooting through the straining muscles upon almost every inhale and exhale. Boney ribs jarred, buckled, and spasmed violently between fits. Who could have ever believed that the act of surviving such hellish torments, as were often dealt upon the prison ship, would be an agony of its own?

Samuel attempted to conjure up recollection of when he last ate. Aboard the Jersey, one day melted into the next, in a terrible blur like runny ink smudged by an over eager artist's fast moving hand. "If.....if yo..you m...mean s....something other than mold, rat, an...and bug infested bread...." he paused for a moment to let long, miserable, and rasping cough escape him. His eyes shimmered ever so slightly with a silver sheen and he whispered the rest of his answer....."months." He had given some of his good food to Selah. Samuel had intended for their friend to make it out alive and healthy; even if it meant he, himself would not. The truth was, the youngest Tallmadge could not remember his last proper meal. His tired eyes shamefully studied his brother from under tangles of sandy colored lashes.

He knew his brother had made the inquiry with the intent to help.... yet, Samuel could feel his heavily bruised and battered pride being further eroded by his brother's compassion. The captain's head hung lowly in a dejected and deflated manner. How was he to call himself a man worthy of his brother's respect and sympathy when his clothes, what tatters remained of them, barely fit his shrunken skeleton of a figure?

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To possibly be continued