Read Online A Pocket Full of Shells by Jean Reinhardt - Free Book Online

friend and felt the need to reassure him.
         “He is as strong as a horse. Don’t worry about him. One of the doctors gave me some medicine they use in the infirmary so I could look after a sick neighbour. I still have plenty left. Anyway, not everyone dies from typhus, you know. It’s mostly the old, the very young and those suffering from starvation that do. A weakened body finds it hard to fight off disease.” 
    Rose gave Michael another blanket as he was still shivering. The journey back home was a quiet one, with everyone too exhausted to make any attempt at conversation.
     

     
     
    CHAPTER 12
         Rose was sure that James would need to be hospitalized and said so to her husband on the journey home. Owen remained silent for a few minutes, then asked if they would take him in at the infirmary where she worked.
         “Doctor Henshaw will know what’s best. I can’t say for sure, but if it’s typhus he might suggest the workhouse. They have a fever ward,” Rose was preparing him for the worst possible news.
         “The infirmary has a fever ward too, he can go there,” said Owen.
         Rose put a hand on his arm, explaining, “It’s full to the brim, love. The sick are lying on the floor as it is. I just want you to know what might be said.”
         “Nobody belonging to me is going to the workhouse. I will find a place to keep him until he’s recovered. I can take the time off work. We can manage,” Owen meant what he said and there would be no changing his mind.
    James started to cough and tried to sit up.
         “You are not losing your wages on account of me, I’m feeling much better, in spite of the fact that you tried to drown me. I don’t recall much of what happened since Michael left me, but I distinctly remember being plunged into freezing cold water.”
    Rose asked him how long he had been awake and James said he heard her mention typhus.
         “Do you think that’s what I have?”
         “Maybe, I don’t know for sure but that is why we dunked you and your clothes in the river, James,” his sister-in-law replied.
    It wasn’t long before the horse turned into Chester Lane, stopping at the infirmary. They had reached their destination.
         Rose jumped down from the cart as it pulled up, and ran inside. Owen followed carrying his brother, who was beginning to burn up again, leaving Michael to look after the horse. Instructing them to follow him into an examination room, Doctor Henshaw took one look at the way James was breathing and said he didn’t think it was typhus. He checked for the tell-tale rash on his body and other symptoms that would suggest the dreaded disease, some called, the Irish Fever.
    There was an epidemic of typhus in 1847 following the mass migration of starving, impoverished people from Ireland to England, America and Canada.
         After a thorough examination the doctor informed James that he was suffering from pneumonia. Owen smiled and slapped his brother on the back, which set off another fit of coughing.
         Rose gasped and said, “We put him in a stream and then lathered him with soap. I was afraid he would infect us. Did we make him worse?”
    She knew how serious an illness pneumonia was. Doctor Henshaw put a hand on her shoulder.
         “Not at all, Rose. That’s what brought his temperature down, but he does need to keep warm.” 
    He gave her instructions on how to care for James, most of which she already knew. 
         A lot of people had gathered in the street to await the return of the cart. Rose cautioned James to avoid coughing, so as not to alarm anyone. He closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep. A hush came over the crowd as James was carried by Owen into the house. Michael followed, embarrassed to be among so many strangers wearing only a blanket. Everyone moved away, fearing the worst at the sight of the unconscious young man. 
         “Is it the fever?” someone