visitors to the island ill since they are not accustomed to it. I will
get Deborah to fix you one of her potions. That's the only thing the girl is
good for," she could not resist saying.
I hope that it wasn’t one of her
potions that has me in this condition, he thought to
himself.
He gingerly rose from the rocking
chair and was ashamed when his aunt came to his assistance as another cramp
almost doubled him over. He was amazed at how quickly the illness came on. By
the time they reached his room he was covered in sweat.
"I'll get Jethro to come and
help you undress and use the chamber pot if you have to and I’ll get Deborah to
bring you some tea to make you feel better."
She helped him into his bed and
hurried out, calling one of the girls to go to Deborah's hut and tell her to
find Jethro and come to the house quickly.
Richard was too weak to do
anything except pray that Deborah would hurry up with the tea and that it would
work fast, provided that she hadn’t poisoned him in the first place. While the
thought of having Jethro help him use the chamber pot was beyond humiliating,
he hoped that he would appear before he had an embarrassing accident.
As another series of cramps
ravaged his body, he could not bite back the moan that escaped his lips. He had
never felt so ill in his life. Did he come to Barbados only to die?
“Deborah, Deborah!” Rachel
called outside her hut. Deborah took just a second to appear in the
doorway as it was such a rare occurrence for the girls to come to her hut.
“Mother told you to find Jethro
and come to the house quickly,” she continued breathlessly. “Cousin Richard is
sick.”
Deborah’s heart skipped a
beat. She paused only to turn back to her mother who was on her heels to
ask her to find Jethro while she rushed to the house. She had plaited her
hair but did not even stop to pile it under a handkerchief.
“Do you know what kind of sickness
he has?”
“I think it’s his stomach.
Mother said something about the water affecting him or it may have been
something he ate.”
Deborah began to feel a little
anxious. She thought of the food that she had prepared for him earlier that
day. It was lamb stew that had been left back from the night before and
bread.
Did she heat it up enough? Was she
responsible for his illness or was it the water?
She reached the kitchen and lit
the fire in the hearth. Quickly filling up the kettle from the bucket of water
on the counter, she suspended the handle over the crane and swung it into the
hearth.
Looking through her herbs in their
clay jars she took out two small cloth bags containing chamomile and peppermint
leaves. She poured some of each into a tea pot and paced the floor
waiting for the kettle to boil.
Her mother always said that a
watched pot took longer to boil and she felt sure that this was true. She could
hear the mistress heading to the kitchen, probably to find out what was taking
so long.
“Deborah, how much longer will you
be? Poor Richard is in agony. Jethro is with him now but I know
your tea will soothe his stomach and replace much needed fluids. I don’t know
what has brought this on, but I feel terrible!”
“I’m coming now mistress.
I’m waiting for the kettle to boil.” Deborah felt terrible too. Terribly guilty.
“I’m going up to my room to change
out of these clothes. I will check on him in a few minutes.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Richard felt marginally better
after using the chamber pot. He was now fully convinced that pain and
discomfort were the perfect antidotes for pride and he was just grateful that he
had Jethro there to help him and take away the contents before returning the
pot in pristine condition and ready for the next use. He had also helped
him to undress and change into a robe.
Deborah balanced the tray in one
hand and knocked at the door. Memories of knocking on this door almost
two years ago and the painful events that followed made her
get Deborah to fix you one of her potions. That's the only thing the girl is
good for," she could not resist saying.
I hope that it wasn’t one of her
potions that has me in this condition, he thought to
himself.
He gingerly rose from the rocking
chair and was ashamed when his aunt came to his assistance as another cramp
almost doubled him over. He was amazed at how quickly the illness came on. By
the time they reached his room he was covered in sweat.
"I'll get Jethro to come and
help you undress and use the chamber pot if you have to and I’ll get Deborah to
bring you some tea to make you feel better."
She helped him into his bed and
hurried out, calling one of the girls to go to Deborah's hut and tell her to
find Jethro and come to the house quickly.
Richard was too weak to do
anything except pray that Deborah would hurry up with the tea and that it would
work fast, provided that she hadn’t poisoned him in the first place. While the
thought of having Jethro help him use the chamber pot was beyond humiliating,
he hoped that he would appear before he had an embarrassing accident.
As another series of cramps
ravaged his body, he could not bite back the moan that escaped his lips. He had
never felt so ill in his life. Did he come to Barbados only to die?
“Deborah, Deborah!” Rachel
called outside her hut. Deborah took just a second to appear in the
doorway as it was such a rare occurrence for the girls to come to her hut.
“Mother told you to find Jethro
and come to the house quickly,” she continued breathlessly. “Cousin Richard is
sick.”
Deborah’s heart skipped a
beat. She paused only to turn back to her mother who was on her heels to
ask her to find Jethro while she rushed to the house. She had plaited her
hair but did not even stop to pile it under a handkerchief.
“Do you know what kind of sickness
he has?”
“I think it’s his stomach.
Mother said something about the water affecting him or it may have been
something he ate.”
Deborah began to feel a little
anxious. She thought of the food that she had prepared for him earlier that
day. It was lamb stew that had been left back from the night before and
bread.
Did she heat it up enough? Was she
responsible for his illness or was it the water?
She reached the kitchen and lit
the fire in the hearth. Quickly filling up the kettle from the bucket of water
on the counter, she suspended the handle over the crane and swung it into the
hearth.
Looking through her herbs in their
clay jars she took out two small cloth bags containing chamomile and peppermint
leaves. She poured some of each into a tea pot and paced the floor
waiting for the kettle to boil.
Her mother always said that a
watched pot took longer to boil and she felt sure that this was true. She could
hear the mistress heading to the kitchen, probably to find out what was taking
so long.
“Deborah, how much longer will you
be? Poor Richard is in agony. Jethro is with him now but I know
your tea will soothe his stomach and replace much needed fluids. I don’t know
what has brought this on, but I feel terrible!”
“I’m coming now mistress.
I’m waiting for the kettle to boil.” Deborah felt terrible too. Terribly guilty.
“I’m going up to my room to change
out of these clothes. I will check on him in a few minutes.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Richard felt marginally better
after using the chamber pot. He was now fully convinced that pain and
discomfort were the perfect antidotes for pride and he was just grateful that he
had Jethro there to help him and take away the contents before returning the
pot in pristine condition and ready for the next use. He had also helped
him to undress and change into a robe.
Deborah balanced the tray in one
hand and knocked at the door. Memories of knocking on this door almost
two years ago and the painful events that followed made her
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