The Attainment of Evangeline

Chapter 4

Evangeline let her fingers hover above the captain's face for a moment, and then removed the rain soaked hair from his face, which was hot to the touch. Not only was he wounded somewhere, but he was beginning to get ill, she suspected. She needed to help him. No. What she needed was a doctor; she knew nothing of healing people. But there wasn't a single chance that she could call upon a doctor in this weather, and he could be bleeding out quicker than she knew. She would have to do it alone, to try her best until morning when a physician could be reached.

Her father could be of help too, she thought, unless he was passed out cold in the chair in his small study, opium or alcohol still pulsing through his veins. She stood up and tried to roll Jack's body over so that he was on his back. She strained herself, her hands slipped in his blood, and she shrieked. She couldn't budge him, much to her chagrin. She quickly turned on her heels and ran to her father's study, her blood covered, quivering hands trying to turn the slippery silver knob. She resorted to pounding on the door with her fists; if he was asleep he would surely hear her.

"Father!" she called, desperately trying to open the door, this time her hand did not slip around, but instead made contact, and she opened the entrance to her father's den. Evangeline, who was not surprised in any way to see her father completely absorbed in his drink, ran over to him. His eyes were open, and he was staring into the fireplace, the flames licking the sides of the stones in which it was held.

"Father?" she asked as she knelt beside his chair. "Can you hear me?"

He continued to stare blankly at the pit of the fire, his concentration consumed by it.

"Father, please, I need your help."

He brought the bottle to his lips, took a swig, and grimaced as the liquid burnt his throat on the way down.

"Not now, Lauraine," he muttered, his thin mustache bobbing up and down.

"Father it's me, Geline. I know you can hear me, and I need your help, please," she said more urgently, knowing there was a man possibly dying in their hallway.

He took a breath as if to say something, but at the last second decided on taking another drink. Evangeline stood up and tore the bottle from her father's lips, throwing it to the ground. The bottle didn't shatter, but rather, bounced a few times on the carpet before settling and slowly spilling its contents.

"Stop ignoring me," she stated firmly. "I am not your wife, I am your daughter and there is a man who needs help. He's hurt! Tear yourself away from your precious drink for one moment to help me!"

Her father turned towards her, shocked. Never had Evangeline raised her voice to anyone, ever. He stood up, a bit shakily, and then ran his fingers through his thinning brown hair, sighing deeply.

"Someone is hurt, you say?" he asked.

"Yes. Please, I can't carry him to a bed, he's too heavy."

"Yes, of course not dear. Take me to him," her father declared, bending down to pick up the fallen bottle, and setting it on his desk.

Evangeline ran out to Jack and once again knelt beside him, putting her ear to his back to try and hear a heartbeat. It was faint, but there. He was still alive. Her father knelt down as well, put his hands under Jack's body and lifted him off the ground with ease as he made his way towards Evangeline's room. She followed behind him, stopping at the study to grab a clean pair of sheets and the water basin, which was still full unlike the one in her room.

She set the supplies down beside her bed, which Jack was occupying, blood spilling onto her sheets. Her father stood rather awkwardly by the edge of the bed, not quite sure what to do with himself. She wondered if he even knew what was really going on. He could still be of help if she got him to focus.

"I need you to rip this up," she said, throwing the sheets at her father who looked lost. "For bandages."

She hoped he could handle that. She lit two more candles for better light, and then looked at the captain. His shirt was soaked with blood, and she could now see where it was coming from. There was a large tear in his shirt across his stomach as if he had been cut. She quickly untied a striped piece of cloth from around his waist, removed the belt that was buckled across his right shoulder, and then nearly tore his worn brown vest off.

She could hear the sounds of thunder and her father ripping the sheets all at once as she reached out with trembling fingers to undo the buttons of Jack's once white shirt. She pulled her hand back towards her body, and took a deep breath.

"I...er...I think I'm done," her father mumbled quietly, handing her the makeshift bandages.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Now I need a bottle of your liquor, to prevent infection."

He left the room like a well-trained pup, and she turned back to Jack as lightning lit the room. The tips of her fingers rested on one of the buttons, afraid to undo it.

"Stop being silly," she said out loud.

One by one she unhooked the buttons of his shirt to reveal his bloodied chest, then his wounded stomach. The cut ran from his right side to the middle of his belly button and she felt as if the cut were a cavern; deep, and dark, and unexplored. She looked back at his face, and remembered the first time she had seen it as a sixteen-year-old girl, almost two years before. Now, he had mysteriously, and ironically, fallen into her care.

Anxiously, she let her fingers rest on his rising and falling chest, on an area that had not been too tainted by blood. She sheepishly and guiltily removed them when her father entered the room, handing her a bottle. She set it down and took a bandage from the pile, dipped it in the water and set it across the cut. She gently wiped the blood from it, being careful, as if he could feel it all. The sight of the wound made her nauseous, and she was forced to stop a few times and look away.

After a few times refilling the water basin, his chest was cleared of all blood, although the cut was still bleeding very rapidly. She kept pressure on the wound, hoping the bleeding would subside. Once it had, she decided that she was so very grateful that he was unconscious, for what she was about to do was going to be extremely painful. She opened the bottle of alcohol and poured some onto a clean sheet, placing it over the wound. She looked over at Jack's face to make sure he hadn't suddenly come to. Evangeline did this a few more times before reapplying pressure.

"Alright father, I need your help again," she said, motioning for him to come to her side.

"I need you to sit him up so I can wrap these bandages around him," she instructed, stifling a yawn.

Her father nodded, slid one hand under Jack's back, the other on his chest, and sat him up straight. Evangeline wondered if her father had any idea who this man was, he had in fact employed Jack years ago as part of his merchant crew. Was he just in his own little world, just drunk enough to not want to know? Her father held him up as she tightly wound several bandages around Jack's stomach and then tied it off in the back. Jack was laid back down, and Evangeline went to wipe the sweat from her brow until she remembered her hands were covered in blood. She turned to her father as she cleaned her hands.

"Thank you," she whispered, standing and hugging him.

He softly patted her on the head, and then asked if he could go to sleep.

"Yes, I don't require any more help."

"Goodnight, darling," he yawed as he turned and left.

Evangeline looked to her bed longingly; she was exhausted. But she would have to sleep on the floor tonight in case Jack woke up. She grabbed a blanket and laid it across the captain. She then put her hand to his cheek to feel if the fever had gone down, but she couldn't quite tell.

"What happened to you?" she whispered, looking at the pattern on his red bandanna.

After she was sure Jack was situated to her liking, she put a blanket and a pillow on the floor and was asleep before she laid down.