New York_ The Novel - Edward Rutherfurd [46]
“Just be glad they haven’t arrested you too,” he answered. Though when he heard the city fathers were asking King William if they could execute Meinheer Leisler, he said that would be a shame.
Just after this, the Boss and Mr. Master’s privateer came home. It had taken a small prize, but not enough to show much profit. They also had some slaves. But I didn’t like the look of those slaves.
“I don’t think they’re healthy,” Mr. Master said. “We’d better sell ’em quick.” And he sold them the next day.
All this time, poor Meinheer Leisler was locked up waiting to know his fate. Most of the people in the city were shocked. In our house, there was a terrible gloom. The Mistress was hardly speaking to anyone. Early in May, when one of the women that had been marching with the Mistress asked to borrow Naomi for a few days to do some needlework at her farm, the Mistress lent her; and I think Naomi was glad to get out. The house was so sad that I told her, “Take little Martha too.” So they went to that bouwerie, which was just a couple of miles north of the city, and they stayed there ten days.
During that time, the weather became very changeable. Some days it was hot and sultry, and the dung from the horses and the other animals was stinking in the streets; then there would be a day of cold and rain. Everybody seemed to feel it. My spirits are usually even, but I felt down. I could hardly do my work. Finally Naomi and little Martha returned late one evening. We didn’t talk much. They were so tired that they both went straight to sleep.
The next morning, I went out with the Boss to the waterfront. Mr. Master and the other merchants were settling accounts on the privateer, and discussing whether to send out another one. After that, we went by the fort, because the Boss and Mr. Master wanted news of Meinheer Leisler. When they came out, the Boss was shaking his head.
“Bayard’s determined to destroy him,” he said to Mr. Master. “I don’t believe they’ll even wait for King William.”
And they were just going into an inn, when we saw young Hudson running toward us.
“What is it, boy?” says the Boss.
“It’s Martha, sir,” he cried. “I think she’s dying.”
That poor child was burning up with fever. It was terrible to see her. And Naomi was looking sick and starting to shiver too.
“It was those slaves from the Boss’s ship,” she told me. “They’d been sold to the bouwerie we were at. They were sick when we arrived, and one of them died. I’m sure we did catch something from them.”
But nobody knew what the sickness was. All that night my little Martha was burning up, and by morning she could hardly breathe. Naomi and I were tending her, but around the middle of the night Naomi started taking the same way too. So I bathed them with cold water to try to take the fever down, but it didn’t seem to do much good.
Then in the morning, Miss Clara came to the door.
“You mustn’t come in, Miss Clara,” I said. “I don’t want you to get sick.”
“I know that, Quash,” she said. “But I want to tend to her.”
I almost choked when she said that. But I called to the Mistress at once to warn her to keep Miss Clara away. And the Mistress told her she mustn’t go in. But Miss Clara had a will of her own. She wouldn’t give in, even to the Boss and the Mistress. She said she wasn’t leaving until she’d given Martha some herbal drink that’d be good for her, that she’d brought. And the Boss said, “Give the drink to Quash then,” but she wouldn’t. And she stood there holding Martha’s hand, and gave her the drink. Martha could hardly swallow it, but maybe it did her some good, for she was quieter then. I managed to get her out of the room after that.