How Private George W. Peck Put Down the Rebellion by George W. Peck
CHAPTER XV.
My Experience as a Sick Man--Jim Thinks I Have Yellow Fever-- What I Suffered--A Rebel Angel--I am Sent to the Hospital.
Up to this time I had never been sick a day in my life, that is, sickenough to ache and groan and grunt, and lay in bed. At home I hadoccasionally had a cold, and I was put to bed at night, after drinking aquart of ginger tea, and covered up with blankets in a warm room, and Iwas fussed over by loving hands until I got to sleep, and in the morningI would wake up as fresh as a daisy, with my cold all gone. Once ortwice at home I had a bilious attack that lasted me almost twenty-fourhours; but the old family doctor fired blue pills down me, and I cameunder the wire an easy winner. I did have the mumps and the measles, ofcourse before enlisting, but the loving care I was given brought meout all right, and I looked upon those little sicknesses as a sort ofluxury. The people at home would do everything to make sick experiencesfar from bitter memories. It was getting along towards Christmas of myfirst year in the army, and though it was the Sunny South we were in, Inoticed that it was pretty all-fired cold. The night rides were fullof fog and malaria; and one morning I came in from an all-night ridethrough the woods and swamps, feeling pretty blue. The mud around mytent was frozen, and there was a little snow around in spots. As I laiddown in my bunk to take a snooze before breakfast, I noticed how awfullythin an army blanket was. It was good enough for summer, but when wintercame the blanket seemed to have lost its cunning. I was again doing dutyas a private soldier, having learned that my promotion to the positionof corporal was only temporary. I had been what is called a "lancecorpora," or a brevet corporal. It seemed hard, after tasting of thesweets of official position, to be returned to the ranks, but I had totake the bitter with the sweet, and a soldier must not kick. I had neverlaid down to sleep before without dropping off into the land of dreamsright away, but now, though I was tired enough, my eyes were wide openand I felt strange. At times I would be so hot that I would throw theblanket off, and then I would be so cold that it seemed as though Iwould freeze. I had taken a severe cold which had settled everywhere,and there was not a bone in my body but what ached; my lungs seemed ofno use; I could not take a long breath without a hacking cough, andI felt as though I should die. It was then that I thought of the warmlittle room at home and the ginger tea, and the soaking of my feet inmustard water and wrapping my body in a soft flannel blanket, and thekindly faces of my parents, my sister, my wife--everybody that had beenkind to me. I would close my eyes and imagine I could see them all,and open my eyes and see my cold little tent and shiver as I thought ofbeing sick away from home. I laid for an hour wishing I was home again;and while alone there I made up my mind I would write home and warn allthe boys I knew against enlisting. The thought that I should die therealone was too much, and I was about to yell for help when my tent mate,who had been on a scout, came in. He was a big green Yankee, who had aheart in him as big as a water pail, but he wasn't much, of a nurse.He came in nearly frozen, threw his saddle down in a corner, took out ahard tack and began to chew it, occasionally taking a drink of water outof a canteen. That was his breakfast.
"Well, I've got just about enough of war," said he, as he picked histeeth with a splinter off his bunk, and filled his pipe and lit it."They can't wind up this business any too soon to suit the old man. Warin the summer is a picnic, but in winter it is wearin on the soldier."
Heretofore I had enjoyed tobacco smoke very much, both from my own pipeand Jim's, but when he blew out the first whiff of smoke it went tomy head and stomach and all up and down me, and I yelled, in a hoarse,pneumonia sort of voice:
"Jim, for God's sake don't smoke. I am at death's door, and I don't wantto smell of tobacco smoke when St. Peter opens the gate."
"What, pard, you ain't sick," said Jim, putting his pipe outside of thetent, and coming to me and putting his great big hand on my forehead, astender as a woman.
"Great heavens! you have got the yellow fever. You won't live an hour."
That was where Jim failed as a nurse. He made things out worse than theywere. He, poor old fellow, thought it was sympathy, and if I had lethim go on he would have had me dead before night. I told him I was allright. All I had was a severe cold, on my lungs, and pneumonia, andrheumatism, and chills and fever, and a few such things, but I would beall right in a day or two. I wanted to encourage Jim to think I was notvery bad off, but he wouldn't have it. He insisted that I had typhoidfever, and glanders, and cholera. He went right out of the tent andcalled in the first man he met, who proved to be the horse doctor. Thehorse doctor was a friend of mine, and a mighty good fellow, but I hadnever meditated having him called in to doctor me. However, he feltof my fore leg, looked at my eyes, rubbed the hair the wrong way on myhead, and told Jim to bleed me in the mouth, and blanket me, and giveme a bran mash, and rub some mustang liniment on my chest and back.I didn't want to hurt the horse doctor's feelings by going back on hisdirections, but I told him I only wanted to soak my feet in mustardwater, and take some ginger tea. He said all right, if I knew moreabout it than he did, and that he said he would skirmish around for someginger, while Jim raised the mustard, and they both went out and left mealone. It seemed an age before anybody come, and I thought of home allthe time, and of the folks who would know just what to do if I wasthere. Pretty soon Jim came in with a camp kettle half full of hotwater, and a bottle of French mixed mustard which he had bought of thesutler. I told him I wanted plain ground mustard, but he said therewasn't any to be found, and French mustard was the best he could do. Wetried to dissolve it in the water, but it wouldn't work, and finally Jimsuggested that he take a mustard spoon and plaster the French mustardall over my feet, and then put them to soak that way. He said thatprepared mustard was the finest kind for pigs feet and sausage, and hedidn't know why it was not all right to soak feet in. So he plasteredit on and I proceeded to soak my feet. I presume it was the mostunsuccessful case of soaking feet on record. The old camp kettle wasgreasy, and when the hot water and French mustard began to get in theirwork on the kettle, the odor was sickening, and I do not think I wasimproved at all in my condition. I told Jim I guessed I would lay downand wait for the ginger tea. Pretty soon the horse doctor came in with atin cup full of hot ginger tea. I took one swallow of it and I thought Ihad swallowed a blacksmith's forge, with a coal fire in it. I gasped andtried to yell murder. The horse doctor explained that he couldn't getany ginger, so he had taken cayenne pepper, which, he added, could knockthe socks off of ginger any day in the week. I felt like murdering thehorse doctor, and I felt a little hard at Jim for playing French mustardon me, but when I come to reflect, I could see that they had done thebest they could, and I thanked them, and told them to leave me aloneand I would go to sleep. They went out of the tent and I could hear themspeculating on my case. Jim said he knew I had diabetis, and lung fevercombined, with sciatic rheumatism, and brain fever, and if I livedtill morning the horse doctor could take it out of his wages. The horsedoctor admitted that my case had a hopeless look, but he once had apatient, a bay horse, sixteen hands high, and as fine a saddle horseas a man ever threw a leg over, that was troubled exactly the same asI was. He blistered his chest, gave him a table-spoonful of conditionpowders three times a day in a bran mash, took off his shoes and turnedhim out to grass, and in a week he sold him for two hundred and fiftydollar. I laid there and tried to go to sleep listening to that talk.Then, some of the boys who had heard that I was sick, came along andinquired how I was, and I listened to the remarks they made. One of themwanted to go and get some burdock leaves, and pound them into a pulp,and bind them on me for a poultice. He said he had an aunt in Wisconsinwho had a milk sickness, and her left leg swelled up as big as a post,and the doctors tried everything, and charged her over two hundreddollars, and never did her any good, and one day an Indian doctor camealong and picked some burdock leaves and fixed a poultice for her,and in a week she went to a hop-picker's dance, and was as kitteny asanybody, and the Indian doctor only charged her a quarter. Jim was for
"He's got 'em! Head all wrong! Wants me to make him milk toast, poachedeggs, green tea, and currant jelly. And I offered him _bacon_. Sow bellyfor a sick man! There isn't a loaf of bread in camp. Not an egg withinfive miles. And milk! currant jelly! Why, he might as well ask forDelmonico's bill of fare, but we have got to get 'em. I told him heshould have em, and, by mighty! he shall. Here, Mr. Horse-doctor, youstay and watch him, and I and Company D here will saddle up and go outon the road to a plantation, and raid it for delicacies.
"You bet your life," says the Company "D" man, and pretty soon I heard acouple of saddles thrown on two horses, and then there was a clatter ofhorses feet on the frozen ground. I have thought of it since a good manytimes, and have concluded that I must have dropped asleep. Any way, itdidn't seem more than five minutes before the tent nap opened and Jimcame in.
"Come, straighten out here, now, you red-headed corpse, and try thattoast," said he, as he came in with a piece of hard-tack box for a tray,and on it was a nice china plate, and a cup and saucer, an egg on toast,and a little pitcher of milk, and some jelly.
"Jim," I said, tasting of the tea, which was not much like army tea,"you never made this tea. A woman made that tea, or I'm a goat. And thattoast was toasted by a woman, and that egg was poached by a woman. Wheream I?" I asked, imagining that I was home again.
"You guessed it the first time, pard," said Jim, as he threw the blanketover my shoulders, as I sat up on the bunk to try and eat. "The wholething was done by the rebel angel."
"Rebel angel, Jim; what are you talking about? There ain't any rebelangels," and I became weak and laid down again.
"Yes, there is a rebel angel, and she is a dandy," said Jim, as hecovered me up. "She is out by the fire making milk toast for you. Yousee, I went out to the Brown plantation, to try and steal an egg, andsome bread, and milk, but I thought, on the way out, as it was a caseof life and death, the stealing of it might rest heavy on your soul whenyou come to pass in your chips, so I concluded to go to the house andask for it. There was a young woman there, and I told her the red-headedcorporal that captured the female smuggler, was dying, and couldn't eatany hard-tack and bacon, and I wanted to fill him up on white folks foodbefore he died, so he could go to heaven or elsewhere, as the case mightbe, on a full stomach, and she flew around like a kernel of pop-cornon a hot griddle, and picked up a basket of stuff, and had the niggersaddle a mule for her, and she came right to the camp with me, and saidshe would attend to everything. She's a thoroughbred, and don't you makeno mistake about it."
I must have gone to sleep when Jim was talking about the girl, for Idreamed that there was a million angels in rebel uniforms, poaching eggsfor me. Pretty soon I heard a rustle of female clothes, and a soft, coolhand was placed on my forehead, my hair was brushed back, a perfumedhandkerchief wiped the cold perspiration from my face, and I heard therebel angel ask Jim what the doctor said about me. Jim told her what thehorse doctor had said about curing a horse that had been sick thesame as I was, and then she asked if we had not sent for the regulardoc-doctor. Jim said we had not thought of that. She asked what had beendone for me, and Jim told her about the French mustard episode, and thecayenne pepper tea. I thought she laughed, but it had become dark inthe tent, and I couldn't see her face, but she told Jim to go after theregimental surgeon at once, and Jim went out. The angel asked me how Ifelt, and I told her I was all right, but she said I was all wrong. Ithanked her for the trouble she had taken to come so far, and she saidnot to mention it. She said she had a brother who was a prisoner atthe-North, and if somebody would only be kind to him if he was sick,she would be well repaid. She said the last she heard of him he was aprisoner of war at Madison, Wis., and she wondered what kind of peoplelived there, away off on the frontier, and if they could be kind totheir enemies. That touched me where I lived, and I raised up on myelbow, and said:
"Why bless your heart, Miss, if your brother is a prisoner in old CampRandlll, in Madison, he has got a pic nic. That town was my home beforeI came down here on this fool job. The people there are the finest inthe world. All of them, from old Grovernor Lewis, to the poorest man intown, would set up nights with a sick person, whether he was a rebel ornot. Your brother couldn't be better fixed if he was at home. The ideaof a man suffering for food, clothing, or human sympathy in Madison,would be ridiculous. There is not a family in that town," I said,becoming excited from the feeling that any one doubted the humanity ofthe people of Wisconsin, "but would divide their breakfast, and theirclothes, and their money, with your brother, egad, I wish I was theremyself. I will be responsible for your brother, Miss."
She told me to lay down and be quiet, and not talk any more, as I wasbecoming wild. She said she was glad to know what kind of people livedthere, as she had supposed it was a wilderness. In a few minutesJim came back and said the doctor was playing poker with some otherofficers, in a captain's tent, and he didn't dare go in and break up thegame, but he spoke to the doctor's orderly, and he said I ought to takecastor oil. That didn't please the little woman at all, and she toldJim to go to the poker tent and tell the doctor to come at once, or shewould come after him. It was not long before the doctor came stooping into my pup tent. His idea was to have all sick men attend surgeon's callin the morning, and not go around visiting the sick in tents. He askedme what was the matter, and I told him nothing much. Then he asked mewhy I wasn't at surgeon's call in the morning. I told him the reason wasthat I was wading in a swamp, after the rebels that ambushed some ofour boys the day before. "Then you've got malaria," said he. "Take somequinine tonight, and come to surgeon's call in the morning."
She gave him a piece of her mind 229]
The little woman, the rebel angel, got her back up at the coolness ofthe doctor; and she gave him a piece of her mind, and then he called fora candle, and he examined me carefully. When he got through, he said:
"He is going to have a run of fever. He must be sent to the hospital.Jim, go tell the driver to send the ambulance here at once, and you,Jim, go along and see that this fellow gets to the hospital all right.He can't live here in a tent, and I doubt if he will in the hospital."
That settled it. In a short time the ambulance came, and I got in andsat on a seat, and the rebel angel got in with me, and we rode sevenmiles to the hospital, over the roughest road a sick man ever joltedover, and I would have died, if I could have had my own way about it,but the little woman talked so cheerfully that when we arrived at thegreat building, I should have considered myself well, only that my mindwas wandering. All I remember of my entrance to the hospital was thatwhen we got out of the ambulance Jim was there on his horse, leading themule belonging to the ange