The Seacole Voyage

Phineas Bogg and Jeffrey Jones landed in the midst of a battlefield. This was not unusual for the Voyagers, but it was imperative to find cover. Phineas' clear blue eyes surveyed the area. The air was hazy with a distinct odor of gun smoke. A large army med tent flapped in the breeze about fifty feet away. He yanked Jeffrey up and they ran to it. Within a few minutes there was a ceasefire and the deafening rifles and cannon fire subsided.

A few harried nurses scurried around inside and tended to wounded soldiers. Jeffrey counted close to twenty-five. He tugged Phineas' sleeve, while keeping the hand over his nose.

"Bogg, where are we? Those are British soldiers. I recognize the uniform but it doesn't look like England out there."

Phineas opened the omni. "Balaclava, Crimea, 1855. We got a red light, kid. Okay, it's obviously a war. I got this one, the Crimean war, right?"

Jeffrey shook his head at his inept but good-natured partner and suppressed a laugh. "Good job, Bogg, I know a little bit about this war, but I really wouldn't know what's wrong."

"Well, let's try to find out, shall we?"

As Phineas said this, he halted an elderly nurse in her tracks and caught the tin bowl about to slip from her hands. She noticed Jeffrey and scolded Phineas. "That boy should not be in 'ere! Neither should you, young fellow! More than half these men are infected with cholera or some other disease. This may as well be a death camp!"

She handed them face masks from her dress pocket. The air reeked of seared flesh, the metallic bitterness of blood, feces and vomit. They gratefully put them on.

"You're not soldiers? Are you a doctor?"

"No ma'am, we're…American missionaries sent to survey and assist the situation in Crimea." Phineas said.

"Really? Did ya sail 'ere?" She asked. "And ya don't even have coats in this dreadful weather!"

Phineas grinned embarrassed. He was about to answer when she lost interest.

"Oh well, ya made it anyway. Come along and get cracking, aye? Our nursing system is all but collapsed. I've got more men dying of cholera everyday. Take this bowl and start sponging the blood off that poor soul on your left. The boy can go to the food tent and start peeling potatoes for the stew. Our crew's got to eat sometime! It will be much safer for him there."

Jeffrey glanced at Phineas. He didn't want to leave, but Phineas nodded. "She's right, Jeff. It's unhealthy."

"But Bogg, I got vaccintated as a kid."

"Not for Cholera from 1855."

"I don't know…okay, I'm going, but tell me everything that happens!"

"Sure, now hurry up before the shelling starts again. Call out if anything…and don't peel too much potato off with the skin! You gotta ration!"

"OH BOGG!"

Phineas wandered to the cot he was assigned and gently drew a large sponge across the young man's shoulder. His breathing was very shallow and a deathly pallor cast over him. The fatigued nurse approached. She pushed her silver hair back and wiped her brow with her sleeve. She flicked the man's blonde bangs out of his eyes. The man gazed at them with gratitude and then suddenly convulsed. Phineas tried to steady him, but it was too late. The soldier released a final gasp of air and sank back into the pillow, his open, but his body cold and unmoving. Phineas nearly fell back from the force of his death, stunned. He forced down tears as the nurse solemnly closed the man's eyes and drew the covers over him.

"That poor child was suffering with the cholera and this wound for days, may God remember him."

She was beyond her own tears now and Phineas picked up the fallen bowl and sponge disheartened. "Is it always this bad? Why?"

"We managed to get most of the shrapnel out of him, but we haven't had a real doctor or surgeon here going on two months. The fighting has been too intense in this region."

Phineas stared mournful at the dead soldier. He looked up sadly. "Um, I'm…I'm sorry for all this. My name is Phineas Bogg; the boy is my nephew, Jeffrey Jones. Why is this disease spreading so much?"

"We just don't 'ave the proper treatment. It's hard for the medicines to get delivered to us over that Turkish border."

"But, I thought cholera was curable?" Phineas began scrubbing his hands with the soap and water she provided in a separate basin.

"Yes, I'm sure it is, but no one's figured that one out yet. I mean they haven't figured out how to be completely effective. We're on the verge of losing this war."

The nurse led him to a chest and handed over two warm coats. "Now you'll be needing these."

Phineas trudged outside, and grabbing a shovel, he buried the fallen soldier with a pained heart. It didn't take too long to dig a grave, since the ground was moistened from the other surrounding plots. He washed up again and returned to check on Jeffrey. His partner was no longer peeling potatoes, and had moved on to chopping carrots and onions. He didn't look too happy with his assignment; he wanted to be part of the real action with Phineas.

"Jeff, be very glad you're not in there, it's depressing and contagious. I couldn't get much out of the nurses, only that Cholera is striking the soldiers down left and right."

A somewhat cheery notion came to Phineas' mind. "I did get invited to have supper with a very cute nurse, did you notice the one with red hair?"

Jeffrey threw the onion down and wiped his teary eyes. "Bogg! Will you get serious? We've got a red light!"

Phineas sighed. It was very inappropriate of him, considering a man died in his arms. He looked down at his boots, crestfallen.

"I'm sorry, Jeff. I just had to do the work I loath and bury a victim. I also dug up two other shallow graves. They're anticipating them to be filled by this evening. I was only trying to lighten the mood."

Jeffrey sighed. He knew his partner meant it. "Ok, Bogg, I'm sorry I snapped at you, what else did they say?"

"The head nurse said we need to see a man named W.H Russell, he's…"

"I think I heard of him, Bogg, wasn't he a reporter?"

"Yes, apparently a war correspondent. He's stationed in Sevastopol right now. That means we're traveling, kid. One of the soldiers offered to take us to the border, since we helped them out."

-Oo-

The Voyagers and the soldier took off within the hour. Phineas pressed him for more information about the war and Jeffrey lit up with an idea.

"Bogg! What about Florence Nightingale? She was a British Nurse in the Crimean war."

"You're right, she could be the problem!"

The soldier shook his head, getting wind of their conversation. "No problem there, good man. Florence is stationed in Turkey, a wee bit far from the battlefield for my taste, but a brunt of the fighting is going on there too. I tell ya, it saddens me and turns my stomach to think England will lose this battle. Some of our finest young men are gone and it had nothing to do with the actual fighting."

Jeffrey sat back stumped. He knew this voyage had to do with nurses and he remembered studying that cholera was a problem, but it didn't decimate the British army to losing. He hoped at this next station they would find more answers. The wagon eventually came to a halt.

"This is as far as I can take you boys. You'll have to do some walking. I'm needed back at camp post haste. When you do find that scurrilous Mickey Finn, you tell him he owes me five pounds!"

Phineas leaned toward Jeffrey. "Mickey Finn? Who's that? We need to find William Russell, right?"

Jeffrey laughed. "He means Irishman, Bogg. Russell was Irish. I guess he was a gambler."

Twenty minutes later, the worn out and hungry Voyagers arrived in the city. Right at the outskirts they found the medical building. More wounded soldiers tramped around with depression and hopelessness etched in their faces. Jeffrey ran ahead and rapped on the door. A young nurse with dark hair and solemn brown eyes appeared.

"Can I help you boy? Are you sick or hurt?"

"No ma'am we came from the med stations at Balaclava, may we come in?"

She looked curiously at the silhouette of the tall man in the pirate attire and smiled as he stepped out of the shadows.

"Sure, you and your friend are welcome here to have supper. What's your business then?"

Phineas gave a slight bow. "Thank you very much, we are hungry. We're looking for a reporter, William Russell?"

She led them to a table and asked another nurse to bring them vegetable soup and bread. "Ah yes, the giddy Irish man. What could you want with him, does he owe you money too?"

Phineas laughed. "No, but he owes Jennings five pounds."

"Oh dear, he's still griping over that? You came just in time, Willie should be heading in here soon."

Phineas and Jeffrey ate contented. Jeffrey observed that the nurse kept staring at Phineas. Phineas caught her eye winked. She casually put her hand to her chest and discreetly pulled her dress to fan herself. He pretended not to notice.

"Is there any time zone where a woman is not attracted to you, Bogg?" Jeffrey questioned with sarcasm.

"Aww quit it, kid. Your time will come. I just want her to feel at ease with us, hmm, maybe…" Phineas turned his attention back to the nurse. "Oh miss, how is Florence Nightingale these days?"

She crossed her arms discontented. "Florence? Humph, you would know her, wouldn't you? She's cleaning house over in Scutari, but it's just not enough. What's she to you, sir?"

"A casual acquaintance."

"Of, course you are. So is Richard Milnes, Verney, Sydney Herbert, Jowett…she really knows how to pick em, but I wouldn't hold my breath, she's married to her work."

The nurse strode away to tend to other duties, her hopes in Phineas dashed.

Jeffrey nudged Phineas. "Say, how do you know Florence anyway?"

Bogg shrugged with a smile. "Let's just say she gets around."

"Jeesh, Bogg, it's a wonder she has any time to be a nurse, she sounds as bad as Agnes!"

Phineas rolled his eyes. Agnes was a flaky woman that couldn't decide between the Wright brothers or him. Her foolish romantic games had nearly halted the invention of the airplane.

"Florence is an intelligent, handsome woman. She always puts her love of nursing ahead of everything else. I guess it's just that thing called the Nightingale effect."

The door burst open. A large, middle-aged man rushed inside from the cold, and before he even spoke, Phineas suspected he was inebriated by his stagger.

"Martha, dearie, put me on some soup and be quick about it." He slurred. "Make it piping hot, and put extra carrots."

Phineas stood up. "That must be Russell, stay here and I'll have a talk with him."

He approached and pulled out a chair across from him. "Top o' the evening, Mr. Russell, my name's Bogg. I'd like to ask a few questions about the conditions here about the war, particularly what's been happening in the nursing system."

Russell stared at him dully, and then busted out laughing His long black beard shook and icicles dropped onto the floor. "So America wants to join the party, eh? Ten thousand British soldiers die from one thing or the next in our first year, you tell me how it's doing, aye?"

Phineas was a little put off by his attitude, but he pressed further. "I know it's awful, but you being a war correspondent and all, maybe you have some insight as to what could be the problem here?"

Russell yanked Phineas' collar, startling the Voyager. "Listen here, ya youngblood! I hate that term 'war correspondent! I'm a full-fledged reporter for the Irish Times ya got it?"

Phineas pulled away, his patience sorely tested. He straightened his vest. "I'm sorry Mr. Russell, I've heard you've been covering the war for a while now and I thought you could be of some help. I would say what you do certainly fits the description of a war correspondent. I guess you're just overrated. By the way, you owe Jennings five pounds."

Phineas ventured to leave but Russell held his arm and chuckled. "Aye! That I do. He'll get it before I leave this bloody place. Sit down, lad. Martha, Get the man a shot of brandy, he's wound as tight as the bloomin' pocket watch he's carrying on his belt. Tell me, how much for it, ehh?"

Phineas sat again, but passed on the brandy. Jeffrey was regarding the scene with interest and urged him to press further.

"It's not for sale Mr. Russell, it's a family heirloom. Now please, I really need to know."

"Okay, okay, I'll give you one good reason why our men are dying, her name is Mary Seacole."

They were finally getting closer to figuring out the red light. "Who's she?"

"Mary is one of the greatest nurses who ever lived in my opinion. I met her in Sevastopol when this war started. A real doll of a woman she was. Do you realize she halted a yellow fever scourge in Jamaica? She's rumored to have very effective treatments for cholera."

"Rumors and facts are entirely different things, Mr. Russell. You can't stake thousands of lives on a rumor."

"Well, I know this for a fact because some of my buddies were stationed in Jamaica over the years. The poor lady wanted so desperately to join the Nightingale crew."

Phineas smiled at Jeffrey when he caught the small glare of recognition in his eyes.

"So, what happened, where is she now?"

"That prissy crew turned her down flat last year, sometime in mid July. They didn't want her sort working for their nursing team. Mary got discouraged and went home to Jamaica, no one's ever heard from her again."

"That's too bad. You wouldn't happen to have the exact date she left, would you?"

"I believe it was around the twentieth of July."

Phineas rose with a handshake. "I appreciate all the information. Jeff, it's time we got moving. Thanks Mr. Russell."

"Glad to be of some help, acck, my soup is cold now! Martha!"

The duo politely left the aid station and came to a secluded area.

"What do you know about Mary Seacole, Jeff?"

"Not much, but I remember my dad telling me how great a nurse she was, even better than Florence Nightingale. She educated herself all about the rare treatments that inflicted soldiers."

"Okay, now I'm starting to see the connection to the red light. What did Russell mean by her sort?"

"What do you think? She's from Jamaica, I think she was a black woman."

Phineas sighed. "Oh, I see. No wonder they shunned her. That isn't right."

"I know, it never was."

Phineas flicked the omni open and adjusted it to July 20th 1854. "Ready kid? Hold on!"

The pair took off into the cosmos.

-O-

The Voyagers made a solid landing into a bustling chicken coop. Hens and chicks pecked and clucked, and their feathers scattered everywhere. A Turkish farmer came running out from the commotion, he was armed to the teeth, screaming at them. The farmer fired a warning shot in the air, putting his chickens in more furor. Covered in feathers and grains, the Voyagers ran fast away and eventually stopped at a pig trough to wash the dirt off and catch their breath. They removed the coats since the hot July sun beat down on them.

"Look Bogg, there's the same hospital!"

"Great, now how can we find Mary?"

"I don't know, I don't remember what she looked like. Lets just ask around."

"I'm sure there aren't many Jamaican women in town." Phineas said.

As they drew closer to the building, Phineas stopped short. He heard a woman crying aloud in the streets. "Wait a minute, Jeff, I want to see what's wrong with her."

Phineas approached her; she was short, a little plump and close to middle age. She had pleasant dark eyes and very tan skin. She rummaged around her bag for a handkerchief and eventually pulled one from her pocket. As she dabbed her eyes, she spotted Phineas watching and cried some more.

He approached her delicately. "Miss, my name is Phineas. What's wrong? Maybe I can help you?"

"Tell me you need a nurse, then it would help me, sir."

The woman had a distinguished tone of voice, a mix of Scottish and British with traces of an Island accent. Phineas signaled Jeffrey and led her to a shaded area to rest.

"Are you a nurse?" Phineas asked hopefully.

"Yes, and a very good one, but to them I'm just an island native. I should be so fortunate though, if this was America I could very well be a slave. My features are not white enough to get me by freely."

Phineas realized he was talking to the source of the red light. The woman continued to sniffle but sat up dignified.

"My name is Mary Seacole. I'm Creole, daughter of a Scottish soldier and raised by my mother in Jamaica. The British soldiers were so grateful for us down there. Do these ladies shrink from my aid because my blood flows beneath a somewhat duskier skin than theirs?"

Mary stood up and paced, questioning the wind. Phineas put a comforting hand on her arm.

"I don't think they realize they need all the help they can get. The situation is getting really bad here, isn't it?"

Jeffrey felt sorry for the older woman and a bit of resentment toward the Nightingale crew. He was always taught how great these figures in history were, but as a Voyager he also realized how frail and full of discrimination they could be too. He looked at his mentor. Phineas Bogg was the least prejudiced person he ever encountered. He felt grateful for the good example he set in that regard. Jeffrey offered up his own encouragement.

"Yeah, Miss. Seacole. They could really use a fantastic nurse like you! We heard you work wonders with disease treatments. Please don't give up and move back to Jamaica."

Mary glanced at him strangely. "How did you know I wanted to do that? I was just on my way to purchase my ticket. Oh never mind, if that's how Florence wants it, then let it be! I've got no right coming here and thinking I can make any difference."

Phineas swung her around excited. "You're not going anywhere. Don't give up Mary! Nursing is your passion just as much as Florence Nightingale's or any other. If they won't accept you, then you have to try another option. You don't look like a quitter to me; you just had a setback. It happens to the best of us."

Mary smiled at the young sailor's enthusiasm. "It's not just my color, but I understand your point. I'm determined to help my people, yes, but not just the British. I want to aide all the soldiers if I could. The other nurses and doctors won't hear of it. I've made many acquaintances during my lifetime that respect my work, but here, the head doctors and even some soldiers think I'm a quack. My mother taught me traditional Jamaican medicine, natural herbs and remedies. And they do not trust them."

"Is that the problem? All modern medicines come from nature right? I'm sure your treatments are very effective."

Mary grasped his hand. "Oh they are, Phineas. I've traveled a great deal and learned everything I could about cholera when I saw it affecting our boys. I've even afflicted myself and recovered from it with my own remedies."

Phineas and Jeffrey were astonished. She was a brave woman. "There, you see! That's why you must stay. You're a fighter, if you can't join em', beat em'!"

Jeffrey tapped Phineas' arm. "Don't you have that backwards?"

"Nope, I meant exactly what I said. It may do Mary well to set up her own aid station and let them see how successful she does."

A loud peal of alarm bells rang through the city. Mary grabbed Jeffrey's hand and Phineas held both of them down to the ground. He kept his arms over their backs.

Mary glanced around frightened. "We must find cover boys! A battle is about to…"

A few small explosions went off about a half-mile from the area, but it was enough to get them moving. They ran back to the medical center and Mary rushed to the head doctor.

"Did you hear that? You need to get all available cots ready and boil a lot of water. Make sure it's thoroughly boiled, that's how this cholera is spreading. The water is contaminated!"

Phineas ran to the back and grabbed two buckets. He and Jeffrey began pumping water from the trough outside. The doctor was hesitant to comply but upon seeing the British soldiers racing to the battlefield he changed his mind. He ordered a carriage be brought around for her. The Voyagers lugged in as much water as possible and Mary helped the other nurses set a large cauldron to boil. She filled her medical bag with additional supplies. As Phineas and Jeffrey set open the cots she went over and hugged both of them.

"Thank you both very much. I know what needs to be done here and I'm going to make sure I do it with or without the Nightingale crew."

Mary headed outside with Phineas on her tail. He caught her arm. "Just a minute, Mary. Where are you going? It's too dangerous!"

"I'm going to the battlefield, that's where I'm most needed, Phineas. I can more easily help the soldiers. I must not tarry any more, goodbye!"

Mary was in the carriage before Phineas could protest again. The waved her off and opened the omni. The light was green.

"Looks like she's okay, kid. Lets go ahead one year again, I have to know what happened to her."

"Okay, there's not much more we could do here. The doctors are starting to get curious about us." Jeffrey replied.

The Voyagers took off and landed back in the hen house, but it was abandoned. The entire area was quiet. They even saw the British soldiers laughing and heading out for a good time to the nearest town. Phineas couldn't help but smile. One of them was the young man who died in his arms.

They went into the medical building and the head doctor approached. "Can I help you, boys?"

"Yes, we're looking for Mary Seacole, is she here?"

"Mary? You'll find her in Spring Hill, it's a little thriving hotel and aid station she set up for the soldiers on the battlefield."

Phineas and Jeffrey grinned. "Where is that, sir?"

"Oh, just about a mile from here if you follow the main British supply road. You boys look hungry, she'll gladly feed you on credit."

"That's good news. Tell me, how is the war going? What are the casualties?" Phineas inquired.

"It's a shame to have any casualties, but we're hovering at around four thousand. There hasn't been too much fighting in this region thanks to the Good Lord and Mary's cholera cures. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some patients to attend to."

Phineas and Jeffrey left feeling a deep sense of accomplishment. "Bogg, that's less than half the casualties from the red light zone, it's much better, isn't it?"

"Yes it is, that Mary is one smart lady. Hey, where are you going, Jeff?"

His partner was already racing to the main road. "I want to see Mary, besides, I'm hungry again! That vegetable soup didn't cut it."

Phineas caught up to him and they walked at a leisurely pace. "Alright kid, I'd like to see how she is too. I'm sure she'll remember us. Listen, remind me to change my phrase next time I'm ever sick or wounded."

"What phrase is that, Bogg?"

"That it's nothing a week with Mary Seacole wouldn't cure!"

The End.