My second patient arrived, bringing with him the smell of smoke. I gave him a drink and bade him to stand near the boiling spiced water to allow the steam into his airways. I instructed Meg's sisters to block gaps in the window frames and around the external doors. The air inside needed to remain as fresh as possible.
I wanted to ask both men how bad the fire was, how many were helping and if people were trapped, but I didn't want them talking too much. Their throats would be raw and their breathing still sounded labored.
Meg returned, out of breath, a jar of sap in hand and rolled cloths under one arm. "Did anyone see you come in here?" she demanded of my two patients.
They both shook their heads.
She handed me the jar of sap and began tearing up more cloths. "There'll be more sap soon, but I thought it best to bring back what we had now."
I gently spread the sap over the burns then wrapped cloth strips around Torren's hands. "The sap needs time for its healing properties to work. Be sure to keep the bandages on as long as possible before changing them."
Both men stood when I finished and headed for the door.
"Where are you going?" I demanded.
"To The Row," Torren said. "We have to help."
"But your injuries!"
"We have to," he said again. He opened the door, letting in the smoky air, then left.
It wasn't very long before another patient arrived. Mistress Grinsten, a neighbor, also returned with more sap and linen. By the time I finished bandaging his burns, another man showed up at the kitchen door, then another and another. They all had burns, but more worrying was their breathing difficulties.
They couldn't speak without a coughing fit taking over. They were also exhausted and agitated in equal measure. The fire must be out of control.
"I'm going to check," Meg said after another patient arrived. "I need to know."
She was gone a long time. More patients came. The kitchen filled with the coughs of a dozen of Mull's able-bodied men, and the smoke they brought with them. The spiced steam helped their breathing but it made the enclosed space very hot. Sweat dripped down my back as I worked, applying the sap and trying to alleviate sore throats and coughs.
Women from the street came and went with sap and bandages, but the elderly were beginning to show signs of breathing problems too. I assured them we had enough sap and sent them home.
Meg finally returned, a scarf wrapped around her nose and mouth. Her eyes streamed and she coughed incessantly. I directed her to stand near the boiling pot and waited until her breathing steadied before asking my questions.
"How bad is it?"
"Real bad," she said. "From what I can see, there'll be nothing left by dawn."
"Nothing left of The Row?"
Her worried look gave me the answer I dreaded. The entire village was under threat.
"The line outside Doctor Ashmole's house?" I asked.
"Long."
"Did you tell anyone that I can treat them?"
"Are you mad? Of course not."
I pressed the back of my hand to my hot forehead. It came away damp from sweat. "This is ridiculous. I'm going over there—"
She grabbed my arm. "No, you are not. Do what you can for those who come to our back door."
I huffed out a frustrated breath, not sure whether to defy her or listen to her counsel.
"The captain's here with most of his men and lots of servants from the palace," she said. "They've set up a human chain from the harbor to The Row, passing pails of water along it." Her grim face told me it wouldn't be enough.
One of her sisters cried as she came into the kitchen; the other tried to hold back her tears. Meg ushered them out again. "We're going to pack a few things," she told them. "Just what we can carry."
Some of the men left to return home and prepare their families to flee. Others left to fight the fire, while the ones sporting the worst injuries remained with me. More arrived, and the kitchen became crowded again. It was an ongoing fight against smoke and fire—one I couldn't win.
All night, they came and went. The hours blurred together. I immersed myself in my work and the fear of discovery was forgotten. Meg was an invaluable help, and despite her own fears, she managed to calm many nerves, including those of her sisters.
Until a badly burned and unconscious guard arrived, carried in the arms of Max. Meg sent her sisters out of the kitchen.
"Lay him down on the table," I instructed.
"You've got to help him," Max said before he succumbed to his coughs.
I quickly assessed the injuries, noting the burns on the man's face, hands and arms. Patches of his uniform were burned too. But it was his ragged, shallow breathing that worried me the most.
"Meg, help me remove his clothing."
"No," Max said.
"You need to rest," I told him. "You can hardly breathe. Get yourself a drink and take a seat."
It wasn't until Meg gave him a little shove that he moved away and allowed her to get close to the guard. I didn't know his name, but only yesterday he'd nodded at me as I passed him at the gate.
I set to work with Meg's assistance, applying the sap to the burns. Once they were bandaged, there was nothing more to do. The steam would help his breathing, but only if he hadn't inhaled too much smoke already. There was no way of knowing.
Max studied him from beneath heavy lids. "When will he wake up?"
"I don't know," I said.
Max coughed again, his chest and shoulders heaving with the effort to breathe through the fit. Meg watched on, nibbling her lower lip until it bled. We both felt utterly helpless.
When Max finally suppressed the cough, he headed for the door.
"Where are you going?" Meg said, hands on hips.
"I have to get back. They need help."
"You're not fully recovered. Tell him, Josie."
"She's right," I said. "If you breathe in much more smoke, you'll be unconscious too."
His fingers touched Meg's before dropping away. "I'll be careful."
We watched him go. Another three patients left with him, all of them sporting injuries, none of them fully recovered.
When she turned back to me, Meg's eyes were full of tears. "What's the point in bandaging their burns when they'll just get more?"
I didn't tell her that they were in danger from the smoke more than the flames.
Mere hours later, the guard became my first casualty. He passed away as I watched on helplessly, willing his breathing to return to normal, yet listening to it dwindle away to nothing. When Meg realized, she burst into tears.
One of the other patients helped me move the guard's body onto my bed, out of the way, then he too left to go fight the fire again. I didn't try to stop him, even though I knew he might soon be back, struggling to breathe. They needed every man they could get out there or we could be in danger, even here. Meg's sisters sat with a bag each near the door, dolls cradled to their chests, waiting for instructions.
As I closed the door after yet another patient arrived, I realized the hazy glow in the east signaled the rise of dawn, not our entrapment by fire. It offered no comfort, however. The village still burned in the west.
Every newcomer looked grim, as sick with worry as they were with the pain of their burns.