Page 74 - Fever 1793

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO September 27th, 1793
Yesterday the worst day yet Even those who are not sick have eyes tinged with yellow. More doctors are ill and dying.
It all hit me at once: my fears about Mother; the fever; Bush Hill; watching Grandfather die; being scared, alone, and hungry. I cried. I cried a river and poor Eliza did her best to comfort me. The kinder her words, the harder I cried.
When I finally paused to catch my breath, she had one question.
“Why aren’t you with your mother at the farm?”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “Mother didn’t come to the farm with us. We never got there.”
“Oh, dear,” said Eliza. She looked around at the deepening shadows. “We can’t stay here. You are
coming with me to my brother’s. You can tell me what happened as we walk.” Eliza pulled her companion aside and spoke quietly. The woman looked at me with an arched eyebrow and walked away.
“Am I taking you away from your work?” I asked. “Do you need to help your friend?”
“It’s time for all of us to be safe at home,” said Eliza. She pulled a roll from her basket. “Is this little one hungry?”
Nell snatched the roll without a word and took a huge bite.
“That’s a good answer,” said Eliza. She laid her hand on Nell’s forehead and neck.
“I don’t think she has the fever,” I said. I hesitated. I didn’t want Nell to hear me discuss her mother.
“She’s alone.”
Eliza nodded. “We have to hurry,” she said. “Do you want me to carry her?”
Nell tensed and locked her arms around my neck. I would have gratefully delivered to her Eliza, but I
didn’t think my neck would survive. “I’m fine,” I lied.
Eliza led me down back streets as I briefly explained what had happened since Grandfather and I left
the coffeehouse. I skipped the hardest parts: being alone with Grandfather’s body, lying in Bush Hill, the robbers. I didn’t want to cry in front of Nell.
Eliza didn’t say anything, just shook her head and hurried me along until we reached the narrow street where she lived. Her brother, Joseph, was a cooper. He made barrels, a good trade. Eliza lived with Joseph’s family in a small apartment above the cooperage.
I stopped at the bottom of the stairs. I had to know. I covered Nell’s ears.
“Where’s Mother? She’s dead, isn’t she? She’s dead and you’re trying to shield me from it.”
Eliza put a hand on her back and stretched. “No, no, she’s not dead. Don’t think that for a minute. Last
I saw her, she was recovered from the fever and bent on following you to the farm.”
The knot at the base of my neck loosened. “I must go there, then. I have to find her, Eliza.”
“Hush. You can only climb one mountain at a time. Come upstairs and eat some dinner. We’ll think
better with full bellies. I promise I’ll tell you all I know.”
She led me up the stairs to a small set of rooms, dimly lit, but clean-smelling and orderly.
“Joseph’s wife died last week,” Eliza whispered as we paused in the doorway. “He mourns her
something terrible. He is still in bed recovering. He’s weak, but he’ll survive. Thank the Lord the boys haven’t taken ill.”
—Dr. Benjamin Rush Letter, 1793