The Scottish Prisoner - Diana Gabaldon [127]
“Let me have a bit of a look, now,” he said, his tone friendly, soothing. “Ah, there I have it, the sorrow and the woe! Now, ye’ll be holding quite still, Mr. Byrd, and I’ll just …” His voice trailed off in absorption as he felt his way. Grey felt the warmth of Quinn’s body, was soothed himself as much by the physical presences of Quinn and Fraser, close by, as by the knowledge of escape.
Tom was making small whimpering noises. Grey curled his fingers into his valet’s tangled damp hair, rubbing a little behind the cold ear, as he would to distract a dog while a tick was removed.
“Ah, now,” Quinn murmured, fingers working busily in the dark. “Almost there. Aye, that’s got it.”
Tom gave a great gasp and gulped air, and dug the fingers of his good hand hard into Grey’s leg. Grey deduced that the tourniquet was now loosed, letting a rush of blood flow into the wounded arm, waking the numbed nerves. He knew exactly what that felt like and clasped his own free hand over Tom’s, squeezing hard.
“Is the bleeding bad?” he asked quietly.
“Bad enough,” Quinn replied absently, still feeling about beneath the cloak. “Not spurtin’, though. A little bandage will do, with the blessing.” He rose up, shaking his head a little, and reached into his coat, coming out with a familiar square black bottle.
“It’s as well I brought the tonic, thinkin’ Jamie might need it for the pukin’. Sovereign for what ails ye, the maker says, and I’m sure that includes gunshot wounds and cold.” He handed the bottle to Grey. The smell was mildly alarming, but Grey hesitated no more than an instant before taking a modest gulp.
He coughed. He coughed until his eyes streamed and his chest heaved, but there was an undeniable sense of warmth stealing through his center.
Quinn, meanwhile, had got down onto the boards in order to rewrap Tom’s arm and was now holding the bottle for the young man to drink. Tom swallowed twice, stopped to cough explosively, and, wordless, gestured for Grey to take another turn.
Out of concern for Tom, Grey drank abstemiously, taking only a few more sips, but it was enough to make his head swim pleasantly. He’d stopped shivering, and a feeling of drowsy peace laid its hand upon him. By Grey’s feet, Quinn put the final touches on a fresh bandage torn from his shirttail and, patting Grey on the shoulder, clambered back behind him.
In front, Jamie Fraser still bent to his oars but, hearing Quinn’s movement, called back, “How are ye, wee Byrd?”
Tom’s only answer was a gentle snore; he had fallen asleep in the midst of the bandaging. Quinn leaned forward to answer.
“Well enough for the moment. The ball’s still in him, though. He’ll need to be brought to a doctor, I’m thinking.”
“Ye know one?” Fraser sounded skeptical.
“Aye, and so do you. We’ll take him to the monks at Inchcleraun.”
Fraser stiffened. He stopped rowing, turned, and gave Quinn a hard look, visible even by starlight.
“It’s ten miles at least to Inchcleraun. I canna row that far!”
“Ye’ll not need to, you ignorant jackeen. What d’ye think the sail’s for?”
Grey tilted back his head. Sure enough, he thought, with a sort of muzzy interest, there was a sail. It was a small sail, but still.
“I was under the impression that the use of a sail required wind,” Fraser said, elaborately courteous. “There is none, if ye hadna noticed.”
“And wind we shall have, my rosy-bearded friend.” Quinn was beginning to sound like his old expansive self. “Come sunrise, the wind comes up off Lough Derg, and ’twill bear us on the very breath of dawn, as the Good Book says.”
“How long is it ’til dawn?” Fraser sounded suspicious. Quinn sighed and clicked his tongue reprovingly.
“About four hours, O ye o’ little faith. Row just that wee bit longer, will ye, and we’ll be into the waters of Lough Ree. We can turn aside out o’ the current and find a resting place until daylight.”
Fraser made a low Scottish sound in his throat but turned back to his oars, and the slow heave against the Shannon’s current resumed. Left to silence and the softly rhythmic slosh of the oars, Grey’s head dropped and