Of Parchment and Saltwater

Chapter 8

     Each day, I sat beside Benjamin's bed as he slept, waiting to give him more food and medicinal tea whenever he awoke for a few hours. His fever still had not broken after almost a week, although he was showing improvement nevertheless.
     Hunched over a pile of laundry beside the fire, I watched as Ben stirred restlessly in his sleep, shivering uncontrollably.
     "Louisa," Mary whispered as she opened the door quietly, "I picked up your mail at the general store. You have quite a few important-looking letters in there. Breakfast will be ready soon."
     I thanked her and accepted the sealed parchments as she headed towards the door once more. One of the letters had Washington's seal on it.
     Mrs. Louisa Tallmadge,
I hope this letter finds you in good health. It is with bittersweet joy that I bring this news to you, as I know the tremendous sacrifices you have made for this very moment. A treaty has been signed in Paris recognizing these United States as free, sovereign, and independent states. There is an article of this treaty concerning the release of all prisoners of war on both sides, although we are both aware of the uncertainty of it all, especially in Major Tallmadge's case. The Continental Army has been disbanded and almost all soldiers sent home. The great object, for which I had the honor to hold an appointment in the service of my country, being accomplished, I am now preparing to resign it into the hands of Congress, and to return to that domestic retirement, which, it is well known, I left with the greatest reluctance; a retirement for which I have never ceased to sigh, through a long and painful absence, and in which (remote from the noise and trouble of the world) I meditate to pass the remainder of life, in a state of undisturbed repose. If there is anything you need, dear Louisa, I am at your service.
     Adieu,
Gen. George Washington, September 1783
The war was truly over. Washington's imminent resignation was the most striking thing. Why, if given such a powerful position in the army, would he not take his place in the government? He was certainly entitled to it.
     I realized that I'd have to write back and explain Benjamin's miraculous return, for I had not yet told anyone outside of Litchfield.
James Lind, the Scottish man I'd written to concerning scurvy treatment, had also written back. He seemed awestruck that someone took an interest in his findings and even more that he recognized my name as a Revolutionary doctor.
He explained his experiment with real, diseased men given the treatment, something I'd never heard of before.
"This began after two months at sea when the ship was afflicted with scurvy. I divided twelve scorbutic sailors into six groups of two. They all received the same diet but, in addition, group one was given a quart of cider daily, group two twenty-five drops of elixir of vitriol, group three six spoonfuls of vinegar, group four half a pint of seawater, group five received two oranges and one lemon, and the last group a spicy paste plus a drink of barley water. The treatment of group five stopped after six days when we ran out of fruit, but by that time one sailor was fit for duty while the other had almost recovered. Apart from that, only group one also showed some effect of its treatment. I suggest boiling the lemons and oranges into a rob solution, for it is my belief that the acidic supplements are of better use in a rob. However, scurvy has many causes which require many remedies. There is no officially documented evidence of citrus acids as a solution, besides my own experiment. I look forward to hearing from you and I wish you and your husband the best of luck."
     I smiled. Everything he suggested, I had done. His respect of my place as a doctor—especially a female, American doctor—was something I didn't even get from the surgeons working beside me. It was refreshing.
The next letter was much shorter and hurriedly written, simply folded three times down the middle and sealed messily. There was a bit of soot on the side of the parchment.
Agent 270,
The Jersey is on fire and sinking. I do not know many details yet, but from what I've overheard here on the harbor, the British have purposely burned it. It breaks my heart to tell you this news, as it seems neither Benjamin nor Abigail will be alive by morning here in New York. More information to come,
Townsend
My heart raced. Benjamin had escaped a horrifying, excruciating death by a mere few days. And Abigail had not. Benjamin would have been ashes by now. Suddenly, the floor seemed to sway beneath me as I imagined him suffering such a terrible fate. Overwhelmed by God's grace and overcome with sudden exhaustion, I felt myself collapse on the floor and lose consciousness.