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The Story of Wild Will Enderby

Chapter II. The Crisis

page 198

Chapter II. The Crisis.

"Will was truly in a doleful plight. A fierce attack of fever had prostrated him, and he now lay helplessly ill, with his brain racked by a thousand demoniacal phantasies. Sometimes he would cry wildly, even in his fitful slumbers, for aid against imaginary pursuers, and shriek piteously as his disordered vision pictured them crowding the apartment. At other times his incoherent ravings were of thieves and gold; and he seemed to be acting over again some dreadful scene wherein life and death trembled in the balance. At the outset of the attack he would leap from the bed, and endeavour to escape, and his agony when detained was very painful to witness. He would implore his keepers to set him free, declaring in a 'frantic ecstacy' that unless he were suffered to go, Pratt would be hung for the crime which he had himself committed. After a while, however, the body succumbed to these 'tortures of the mind,' and he became, perforce, quieter, and lay quite still, moaning feebly, and muttering in indistinct tones; but always his thoughts appeared to centre on the same horrors.

The worthy medico was considerably puzzled, and not a little interested. At first he had boldly pronounced it a case of 'D.T.'s;'—meaning thereby page 199delirium tremens,—and he pooh-poohed all idea of danger.126 'A little rest—throw in quinine and morphia—reduce the system gradually—two goes of brandy to begin with—soon be right again.' Such was his dictum. But ere long he became convinced that there was more in the case than his professional philosophy had conceived.

The Senior Partner was now of course a free man: for even the bold Sergeant was obliged to admit that the evidence for the defence was very strong. And, indeed, when a man supposed to be dead asserts his existence in open court, it would scarcely be fair to hang anyone for his murder. So Mr. George W. Pratt now sat by the couch of his sick friend, and tended him as a hired nurse never could or would have done. But Will did not at any time recognize him.

Said he to the medico one day—"What do you make of it now, Doc.?"

"'Who shall medicine to a mind diseased?'" quoted the medico. "This is far and away beyond the doctor's art. His mind seems strangely affected. Something must have happened to shatter the nervous system; and I tell you plainly that unless the cause can be discovered and removed, I have but little hope of his recovery."

"Do you mean to say that you think the boy will die?"

"Possibly; and if he survives, I fear for his reason. The crisis of the disorder is coming on rapidly. He may get over it; for he has a splendid constitution, or he could not have lived through the wear and tear of the past. If he does, you must try to worm out the page 200secret of his trouble. Watch him closely. He may have a lucid interval, and your presence at the exact moment may be worth everything to him—life—health—reason."

"Never fear, Sir; I'll watch, you bet. There's some darned villainy at the bottom of this, and by Jehoshaphat, I'll get at it yet."

The next evening, towards sundown, Will was seized with a violent accession of his distemper, during which he raved more wildly than ever, and struggled with almost superhuman force to escape from the chamber. But Pratt was there; and the strong man held him firmly, soothing the poor fellow meanwhile as gently as a mother would still a fractious infant. When the paroxysm had spent itself, he laid himself quietly down on the bed. Then his thoughts for the first time seemed to revert to other scenes. He spoke much of Florence, and intreated her to come to him, and appealed to his uncle to help and save him. Presently the name of his mother escaped, his lips, and tears came to his relief, and so he sobbed himself to sleep.

The medico came in to look at his patient. He counted his pulse, and felt his forehead. "It is the crisis," he said. "He is wrestling with death now, and to-night will decide the issue. He must not be left alone for one minute. I will divide the watch with you. Go you to sleep till midnight."

Midnight came, and still the patient slept. Pratt came in to relieve the doctor.

"How is he now?" he asked.

"I have hope," whispered the medico. "He breathes more regularly, his head is cooler, and his pulse less page 201violent. If he awakes, give him this draught, and call me. I will turn in, in the next room, so as to be at hand in any emergency."

Honestly, the Senior Partner intended to watch very carefully. But sleep o'ermastered him. Anxiety had kept him awake when he should have slumbered, and now he slumbered when he should have been wakeful.

He was aroused by a slight noise, and by an uneasy sensation, as if (to quote his own phrase) 'something was looking into his eyes.' The candle had burned itself out; but by the grey light of early morning he discovered a white-robed figure bending over him,—bending so closely that he felt the warm breath on his face. For a second he remained motionless; being, as it were, spell-bound by the apparition. Then he heard his name called in a soft whisper.

"Pratt!—" It seemed like a dream rather than a reality,

"Pratt!"—Again he heard it. Then he regained his presence of mind. It was his patient.

Gently he arose to his feet. As he did so, Will retreated in evident terror.

"Don't be afraid, boy!' cried the Senior Partner.

"Oh, Pratt!" then cried Will, and his voice was faint and tremulous. "Is it really you? I thought you—you were dead, when I saw you lying there so still, and—and—"

He broke off suddenly, and gazed around with doubt and wonder expressed in his eager eyes.

"Where am I?" he asked. "What are we doing here? Where is the tent? Ah! I have had such awful dreams!"

page 202

The crisis was over. He had wrestled with, Azrael in the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and had gained the victory.127 Pratt comforted him, and coaxed him back to bed, and gave him the draught; and merciful sleep enfolded his bruised spirit, and lulled him to peaceful rest.

"I ain't muchly in the thanksgiving line" (thus communed the Senior Partner with himself), "but I feel so good that I could jest go down on my knees and let out for a thirty minutes' spin in right-down airnest. I must do something to ease the pressure, or there'll be an explosion,—I know there will. Guess I'll go and hunt up the Doc., and hug him."

126 Delirium tremens - rapid onset of confusion as a result of alcohol withdrawal.

127 Azrael - Angel of Death.