FicWad

A week before Samhain Eve, Captain Fitzmaurice’s train pulls into Crosspoint Station. He steps out of the train and onto the platform in a red Northern Army uniform followed by Lieutenant Hackett and Doctor Sparrow. Liam is waiting for them alone. He is weary from an unexpected battle. The air is bitterly cold for the season, and Liam, who has no gloves, winter hat, or scarf, is warming his icy hands with his breath while he waits. He is accustomed to the cold, having slept on the streets through many long winter nights, but trying to keep warm passes the time while he waits. He has not had dinner, so he suggests they go to a pub. Captain Fitzmaurice gladly agrees, so Liam leads them to the center of Crosspoint’s famous crossroads market neighborhood to a pub called The Crossroads Tavern. Jack and Mary are waiting for them.

“Fitzmaurice! Doctor! Come have a seat!” shouts Jack. “Who’s this ye have wi’ ye?”

“Lieutenant Hackett, sor. Transferred in from the north,” replies Lieutenant Hackett.

“Hackett…your da’ was a smuggler, wasn’t he?”

“Aye, sor.”

“Signed his pardon meself, but he never came back to Bridgeton.”

“He died, sor.”

“Durin’ the Revolution?”

“Nay now, not so long ago was it the oul’ mackie died. ‘Round about seven years, an’ more’s the pity. None denyin’ ‘tis a right shame he died. Aye, so. Content ye, ‘twas peaceful enough, as I’ve reason to know. He’d the intention but not the time or money to go homeward.”

“Fitzmaurice, translate that,” orders Jack.

“He means, ‘No, he died about seven years ago. He was a good man, an’ ‘tis a shame he died. At least it was peaceful. He wanted to return to Bridgeton, but he never had the chance,’” replies Captain Fitzmaurice.

“Was he a mate o’ yours, sor?” asks Lieutenant Hackett.

“Mate?” asks Jack.

“Comrade, colleague,” explains Captain Fitzmaurice.

“No. I on’y knew him by reputation,” replies Jack.

“I knew him,” says Liam.

“Cap’n, sor, d’ye remember what ye gave me when ye shipped off?” asks Lieutenant Hackett.

“’Course I do, Drew. ‘Twas a wooden toy gun.”

“I still have it.”

“I should probably introduce everyone,” says Captain Fitzmaurice. “Lieutenant Hackett, that’s Senatorial General Shepherd, Liam’s father, and Mary Jameson, Liam’s fiancée. Mary, this is Doctor Sparrow, my old friend, and Lieutenant Hackett, who just transferred from the Northern Army.”

A waitress walks to the table and asks, “Can I get ye anythin’?”

“I’ll have a bottle o’ whiskey an’ a glass to put it in,” replies Jack.

“Anythin’ to eat?”

“What’ve ye got?”

“Mutton chops, turkey legs, roast game hens, venison pie, sausage, bacon, an’ steak.”

“Mutton chops,” replies Jack.

“An’ ye?”

“D’ye have kvass?” asks Mary.

“Certainly do, miss.”

“I’ll have kvass an’ game hen. Put it up to me time wi’ the Volkovs, but I haven’t had whiskey in years.”

“An’ ye, sor?”

“A couple venison pies an’ a locale ale’d suit me. Gotta stay sober tonight,” replies Liam.

“Turkey leg an’ mead,” says Doctor Sparrow, not waiting for the waitress to ask.

“A little o’ everythin’ an’ a glass o’ your best whiskey,” says Fitzmaurice.

“An’ yourself, sor?” asks the waitress.

“What’ll ye be doin’ after closin’?” asks Lieutenant Hackett.

“Pardon me?”

“Ye’re a pretty wench, ye ar, an’ I’m a man who could use some comp’ny his firs’ night in town. Aye?”

“Sor, I must protest-”

“Don’ be shy, lass.”

“What he means,” interrupts Captain Fitzmaurice, “is that he thinks ye’re a lovely girl, ma’am, an’ that he’d like to see ye when ye get out for the night, if ye don’ mind.”

“Why didn’t he just say so?”

“He’s a northerner, so kindly forgive his crudeness.”

“What unit are ye wi’?” asks the waitress.

“Thirteenth Bridgeton,” replies Lieutenant Hackett.

“I’ll get there a little after ten,” says the waitress.

“I’ll have sausage, bacon, and rum,” says Lieutenant Hackett.

After dinner, Liam and Mary stop at Jack’s cabin briefly before Mary returns to her room and Liam to the camp of the Thirteenth Bridgeton. Captain Fitzmaurice, Lieutenant Hackett, and Doctor Sparrow arrive in camp quietly and stop to see Colonel Callahan, who greets them warmly and welcomes Lieutenant Hackett to the unit. He whistles for one of the men on watch to help them settle into their tents and changes Captain Fitzmaurice’s insignia to that of a major. Doctor Sparrow excuses himself to see Captain Boland, who is still bedridden. His breathing is labored and his cough constant, but he smiles weakly when he sees the doctor.

“Can ye cure me?”

“Hard to tell. Ye’ve been ill for months. Even if I find a way to cure ye, I probably won’t be able to reverse the damage your illness has already done.”

“Can ye at least tell me what I got? I’m a soldier. I watch boys die every day. I can take bad news.”

“From the blood, I’d say ye’re in the final stages o’ Consumption. I’m surprised ye lasted this long an’ nobody recognized it or caught it. I’m sorry to say this, Boland, but ye’re dyin’ an’ ye don’t have long.”

Captain Boland starts to choke and sputter on tears, coughs, and gasps, “Me wife an’ child…”

“Write your wife an’ hope she finds another good man to take her an’ the baby in. Rose-Marie Callahan will look after them ‘til then.”

“Will ye write it for me? I’ll sign, but I don’ want blood on it. I need to change me will to include me son.”

“I’ve witnessed many wills an’ deathbed confessions, an’ I’ll tell Lieutenant O’Dunphy to prepare to receive your confession an’ give ye your last rites. He’s still chaplain, is he not?”

“Aye, but is there really nothin’ ye can do?”

“I could try blood. There’s no promise ‘twill work, but I can try. Ye could still die from the damage ‘tis already done, so I’d rather take care o’ everythin’ else first. If it works, we’ll burn the letter, your will will be amended, an’ ye’ll at least have gone to confession. I’ll try in a few days. Meanwhile, I’ll give ye opium to quiet the cough, ease the pain, an’ put ye to sleep.”

“Thankee, doctor. Ye’re a good man.”

Meanwhile, Major Fitzmaurice looks for Captain Morrison and Corporal Callahan. He finds Captain Morrison chopping firewood for Liam’s still behind the stables. Major Fitzmaurice is shocked to see Captain Morrison looking so ill, especially since he is so young. Even Liam, who is skeletally thin from many accumulated years of starvation, looks more alive than Captain Morrison, who is so thin that he looks as though he is about to collapse from starvation. He is shirtless, and all of his ribs are clearly visible. Captain Morrison is bent over double, and he is as pale as a sheet. His back is to Major Fitzmaurice, but the Major recognizes his oddly pointed ears.

“Morrison!” shouts Major Fitzmaurice.

Captain Morrison turns to face him and leans on his ax. He has a patch over his left eye, and his nose has not been set properly since his injuries were sustained. He salutes to greet Major Fitzmaurice, since he cannot speak.

“Morrison, I can help ye. I know what’s wrong.”

Captain Morrison gives Major Fitzmaurice a questioning look.

“Your jaw’s dislocated. I can put it in place for ye, if ye like. Ye want me to?”

Morrison nods.

“I can say from experience, this’ll hurt bad,” warns Major Fitzmaurice. He firmly grips the Captain’s jaw. “One, two, three.” He violently jerks it toward his right and upward. Captain Morrison grunts in pain. “Can ye talk now?”

“Aye, sor. Thankee. Ye weren’t jokin’ when ye said that’d hurt.”

“Where’s Conan?”

“Dunno. He was somewhere back by the still when ye got here. He bottles it for Liam, so he’s probably off doin’ that.”

Major Fitzmaurice races to the still, knowing somehow that things are not as they should be. When he gets there, he finds Conan on the ground with a knife in his chest. Upon closer inspection, Major Fitzmaurice sees that it belongs to Captain Boland, and he shouts for help. Conan, despite being ten years younger than Major Fitzmaurice, is slightly taller and much heavier than him, and he would rather have help carrying the Corporal back to camp, since he fears dislodging the knife. Captain Morrison is closest, but he doesn’t hear Major Fitzmaurice until he approaches the still with the wood.

“Took ye long enough,” says Major Fitzmaurice.

“I couldn’t year ye o’er the ax,” replies Captain Morrison defensively.

“Well, don’t just stand there. Help me carry him back.”

“Aye, sor.”

They carry Conan back to camp and place him on Doctor Sparrow’s desk, the surgery tent not having been erected yet, and the doctor says, “Christ! I’m not even here an hour an’ he’s dyin’!”

“Can ye stitch him up or not?” asks Major Fitzmaurice.

“I Can, Billy. Ye’re as impatient as ever.”

“He’s dyin’.”

“If ye want to help, take the knife out o’ his chest an’ use it to cut off his shirt. Then take a bandage an’ hold it down hard ‘til I’m ready, an’ once I start stitchin’, bring it back to its rightful owner,” says Doctor Sparrow. Major Fitzmaurice does as he is told while Doctor Sparrow pours alcohol on his hands and equipment. Doctor Sparrow quickly stitches Conan’s chest without anesthesia.

“Will he be alright?” asks Major Fitzmaurice.

“He should be fine. It looks worse than it is. He missed the major arteries an’ vital organs. He should wake from the pain soon.”

“The pain?”

“I didn’t forget to give him ether or opium. I did it on purpose.”

“Why?”

“No need to be so nice to him. He didn’t get that wound from the enemy or even from the father o’ some girl.”

Conan begins to stir and asks, “Where am I?”

“On me desk,” replies Doctor Sparrow. “So don’t try to roll o’er or nothin’.”

“Good. Ye’re awake,” says Major Fitzmaurice angrily. “For fuck’s sake, what the fuck were ye thinkin’!? I’m through wi’ ye!”

Conan sits and says, “I’m sorry, sor. I jus’-”

“No apologies. No excuses. If ye were sorry, ye wouldn’t’ve done it. Ye’re a fuckin’ disappointment. After all Liam, Morrison, an’ your brother have done for ye, ye betray ‘em like that. Ye’re a damned disgrace.”

“Sor-”

Major Fitzmaurice punches Conan in the side of the head, sending him flying off of the desk and storms out of the tent. Doctor Sparrow runs after him and asks, “What was that?”

“He needs to grow the fuck up or get the fuck out.”

“An’ ye think treatin’ him like a dog’ll help?”

“I do. They’ve tried watchin’ him an’ bein’ nice, an’ he’s useless out here. Ye said it yourself. They’re bein’ too nice. ‘Tis time he learns his lesson.”

“Where are ye goin’?”

“To see Emmy. In case ye forgot, she’s me fiancée, an’ I ain’t seen her yet.”

“Wait ‘til ye’re married. Then ye’ll want nothing’ more’n to get away from her.”

“I want to see her now.”

“At least wait ‘til ye’re not mad.”

An hour later, Major Fitzmaurice arrives at Lieutenant Barrett’s tent. She comes out wearing her nightshirt, having gone to bed early and not expecting company. “Surprise,” says Major Fitzmaurice. “I’m back early.”

Lieutenant Barrett throws herself into his arms and asks, “Did ye miss me?”

“More’n anythin’.”

“Give me a minute to dress. I’ll come wi’ ye.”

“Don’t bother wi’ that. Your clothes won’t be on long. Just take your coat. ‘Tisn’t warm.”

“Ye haven’t changed a bit.”

On Monday morning, the Thirteenth Bridgeton marches into battle. Major Fitzmaurice still does not have his green uniforms from Bridgeton, and Lieutenant Hackett has yet to see a tailor to get his, making the two of them obvious targets for the enemy. Lieutenant Hackett’s subordinates are largely confused by his commands because of his dialectal speech and heavy accent, but, despite the miscommunication, they are able to survive. Captain Morrison is in camp, partially because he must regain his strength and partially to mind Conan until someone else can do so. Liam is doing his best to help Major Fitzmaurice maintain order despite the fact that two captains are missing, hoping that Major Fitzmaurice will be able to hold his line. Halfway through the day, Major Fitzmaurice’s pistol jams. An enemy corporal sees his weakness and runs up to him, slicing open Major Fitzmaurice’s forearm with his sword. Major Fitzmaurice hits him with his pistol to no avail. A sergeant sees his trouble and runs over with only a knife, ripping apart the assailant’s throat from behind with his weapon.

“Are ye alright, Major?” asks the sergeant.

“Fine, Sergeant. No need for alarm. Thankee.”

“Ye’re welcome, sor.”

At the end of the day, Major Fitzmaurice returns to camp and immediately asks Doctor Sparrow to stitch his arm. Doctor Sparrow has other wounded men with injuries far more serious than Major Fitzmaurice’s cut for whom he must care. He hands the Major a fresh bandage and tells him to hold it tightly over the wound while he attends to those who were unable to walk back to camp. Three privates and a corporal are dead, and another corporal is fatally wounded, though not yet dead. Doctor Sparrow is attempting to make him comfortable while Lieutenant O’Dunphy is hearing his confession and administering his last rites. He dies as the sun sets, and Doctor Sparrow looks outside his tent. He will not get dinner. There are twenty-five men on the ground in need of his attention, with injuries ranging from stab wounds to concussions to broken bones. He works as quickly as he can, first telling those with head wounds not to sleep for a day and filing paperwork to keep them out of battle until further notice, then cleaning and stitching open wounds as quickly as possible and setting broken bones. A sergeant with a broken arm is the last to be treated before Doctor Sparrow returns to his tent to find Major Fitzmaurice unconscious from what he thought was a minor injury.

Doctor Sparrow carefully removes Major Fitzmaurice’s coat and sees that his assessment of the Major’s injuries was very much mistaken. There is a long gash on Major Fitzmaurice’s forearm. The bandage and three others are soaked through, and the bleeding, though diminished, has not stopped. Doctor Sparrow splashes Major Fitzmaurice with icy water to wake him. He has too much respect for his friend to stitch him while he is unconscious without proper anesthetic. Doctor Sparrow gives him a small amount of ether to numb him and cleans and stitches his wound quickly. When he is finished and Major Fitzmaurice is again sentient, Doctor Sparrow promises to buy him dinner and apologizes properly for his mistake. The Major is drowsy, but they ride to town and stop in a tavern that is nearly empty.

“Lads, the bar closes at ten,” says the bartender, coming out to greet them.”

“’Nother one an’ quick!” shouts a nearly unconscious patron at the bar.

“Ten’s fine,” says Doctor Sparrow. “What time is it now?”

“Quarter past nine,” replies the bartender.

“That’s plenty o’ time,” says Doctor Sparrow. “We’re not lookin’ to drink. We missed dinner.”

The bartender serves them and goes about his duties washing glasses, cleaning the bar, putting chairs on tables, and sweeping, whistling all the while and occasionally filling the glass of the man at the bar until the patron falls asleep. The bartender checks his pocket watch a little before ten and tries to wake the now unconscious man with no success. Doctor Sparrow goes to help. It is then that he realizes that the unconscious man is Conan Callahan. He tells the bartender that he will bring him back to camp with them, pays for his and Major Fitzmaurice’s dinners, takes the money out of Conan’s pocket to pay his tab, and asks Major Fitzmaurice to help carry Conan outside. He finds a farmer with a cart to follow them with Conan in the straw and they return to camp.

When they arrive, Colonel Callahan is relieved that someone found Conan, who snuck out of camp during the day. Major Fitzmaurice and Doctor Sparrow go directly to bed in hopes of avoiding the Callahan family argument that is sure to ensue. In about ten minutes’ time, Major Fitzmaurice is dragged from his bed by Majors Callahan and Moynihan and finds himself in the middle of camp in his nightshirt standing next to Liam, who is only wearing pants and is drinking a mysterious form of either poitín or whiskey from a battered, old flask, both of them listening to the four Callahan brothers in the unit argue. Major Fitzmaurice is glad to see Conan awake, but he stares ahead in silence with a serious expression, even as Colonel Callahan begins to flog his brother and even as Lieutenant O’Dunphy, Doctor Sparrow, Captains Boland and Morrison, and Lieutenants Hackett and Coffey wander out of their respective tents in various states of undress. Conan begins to fight back against his eldest brother and commanding officer and a brawl begins.

“Ye’re a heartless bastard, Fitzmaurice,” whispers Liam.

“I’m a heartless bastard who’s not getting involved,” replies Major Fitzmaurice smugly. “They all have nasty tempers, an’ none’ll be turned on me.”

All of a sudden, Captain Boland whistles loudly. As everyone falls silent and the brawling stops, he shouts hoarsely, “Quiet! For the love o’ Christ, can’t it wait ‘til mornin’!?”

As quickly as he called for silence, he begins a coughing fit and collapses. Doctor Sparrow, Lieutenant O’Dunphy, and Liam rush to his slide. Lieutenant O’Dunphy crosses himself, and Doctor Sparrow rushes into his tent for his medical bag. Liam carries Captain Boland to the surgical tent and lights the candles.

“Liam, ye’re O negative, right?” asks Doctor Sparrow.

“Pardon?” asks Liam confusedly.

“Your blood. ‘Tis type O negatie, right?”

“Aye.”

“Get over here, roll up your sleeve, an’ don’t look at what I’m doin’. I don’t have time to check what type he is, so ye’re perfect.”

“Shouldn’t we wash everythin’ first?”

“I ain’t cuttin’ nothin’, an’the needles is already clean. Ye ain’t been rollin’ in shite, have ye?”

“No.”

“Then ’twill have to do. We haven’t time. I was plannin’ on doin’ this tomorrow, but we may as well save his arse now.”

“Save his arse?”

“Aye.”

“From what?”

“Consumption,” replies Doctor Sparrow gravely.

“Jaysus! An’ ye didn’t think ye might want to warn me that?” asks Liam angrily.

“Couldn’t risk ye runnin’ off.”

“I’m leavin’.”

“Liam, wait,” pleads Doctor Sparrow. “This is Boland’s life we’re talkin’ about. He’ll die in the next few weeks, if not days, if not tonight. Blood’s the on’y thing what might save him. I could give your blood in a needle to anyone an’ it’d work. ‘Tis better’n gold to a doctor. Please, Liam, help me save him. He’s a child at home who’s ne’er e’en seen him. Nothin’ else has a hope.”

“Alright, alright. Please be quick. I’m not afraid o’ much, but I am afraid o’ consumption. Plague an’ consumption.”

“Ye’re done.”

“Done?”

“Aye. I took a jar o’ blood one needle at a time while we was talkin’. All I need to do is put it in him one needle at a time an’ watch.”

“Does it really take that much?” asks Liam, staring at a jar of his own blood and realizing that he once lost more in a bar fight.

“Slightly less,” replies Doctor Sparrow, “but I adjusted for the fact that ye’re drunk an’ added a little extra. ‘Tis better a little too much than much too little.”

“Will he pull through?”

“Hard to say,” replies Doctor Sparrow gravely. “On’y time’ll tell. Be careful walkin’ back to your tent, Liam. Ye’ve lost a lot o’ blood. Ye’ll probably feel a little sick, but a good night’s sleep’ll fix ye fine.”

“Night.”

“One more quick thing.”

“Aye?”

“Thankee.”

Liam shuffles to bed, and Doctor Sparrow sits by Captain Boland’s bedside monitoring his fever and cough and administering blood and opium one syringe at a time. He does not sleep until well after dawn. Only Captain Boland, Doctor Sparrow, and Conan remain in camp the following day. Captain Boland is drifting in and out of consciousness, and Doctor Sparrow is doing his best to stay awake, dozing from time to time. While they are both asleep, Conan goes to town to drink, even though he is strictly forbidden from leaving camp. When the unit returns in the evening, he is nowhere to be found. Doctor Sparrow, still exhausted, warily views the injured men. Most of the injuries are cuts, so he starts by stitching Major Fitzmaurice’s leg, by far the largest cut, made worse by the fact that he again refused to leave battle. The most complicated injury is a bullet wound in Colonel Callahan’s side. With all injuries requiring simple stitches closed, and the few head injuries checked and recorded, Doctor Sparrow begins a surgery that will likely take hours, despite the fact that he is already exhausted.

Major Fitzmaurice saddles his horse with every intention of surprising Lieutenant Barrett by visiting her unexpectedly. On his way out of camp, he is stopped by a confused policeman who asks, “Is this the Thirteenth Bridgeton?”

“Aye…Can I help ye?” asks Major Fitzmaurice warily, knowing that he will not see Lieutenant Barrett for several hours.

“I need to speak wi’ the Colonel?”

“I’m afraid ye can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“He was shot today. He’s in surgery now, an’ he won’t be out for hours. I’m a major. I can help ye.”

“A Corporal Conan Callahan was arrested in town today. ‘Tis our duty to inform his command he won’t be back for a while.”

“What are the charges?”

“Drunk an’ disorderly conduct, incitin’ a riot, brawlin’, indecency, assault, resistin’ arrest, an’ murder, so he won’t be back for years, Major.”

“Can he have visitors?”

“Aye.”

“Where is he?”

“Fifth precinct.”

“Where’s that?”

“Edge o’ the red light district.”

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

Major Fitzmaurice walks around camp asking men he trusts who like Conan for money to get him out of jail. He then asks Doctor Sparrow if he can borrow his horse for the evening, to which the Doctor replies that he will be going to bed as soon as he completes the Colonel’s surgery. Major Fitzmaurice rides to town, finds the jail, learns the circumstances of Conan’s arrest, finds where he was drinking, pays his tab, pays to have Conan released with time served, though he cannot have Conan’s record cleared, and takes Conan to a small tavern called The Sweet Leaf Tavern that he and Doctor Sparrow frequented the year before. The barmaid recognizes Major Fitzmaurice, and this ensures them prompt service and privacy. Major Sparrow insists that Conan eat dinner before they return to camp, so Conan, who is actually quite famished, gets two turkey legs and a few drinks. While Conan is eating, Major Fitzmaurice, who did not miss dinner, speaks to him for the first time all evening.

“Who’d ye kill?” he asks.

“Some dog-boy prizefighter,” replies Conan.

“How’d ye kill a prizefighter?”

“Smashed his head into the corner of a bar.”

“Why?”

“Saw me uniform, told me we’d lose the war ‘cause o’ guys like me. Said I was weak.”

“Do that in a bar, an’ ye go to jail. Do it on a battlefield, an’ they give ye a medal.”

“Major…why’d ye bail me out?”

“Someone had to. Why not me?”

“Ye said ye was through wi’ me, but ye brought me back yesterday, an’ ye bailed me out today.”

“Yesterday, Doctor Sparrow an’ I were in the right place at the right time. Today, I was the one who got the message.”

“They didn’t go to Owen?” asks Conan confused.

“They couldn’t. He got shot today,” explains Major Fitzmaurice. “Doctor Sparrow was halfway through takin’ the bullet out when the message came, an’ someone had to get ye. Your brother expects ye there when he returns. He don’t know ye’re gone.”

“Wasn’t it expensive?”

“Not really. Ye drink cheap whiskey, so your tab wasn’t bad. ‘Tisn’t much to get a man out o’ jail, so long as he’s not still fightin’, if ye find the right judge, an’ I knew who to ask ‘cause your brother’s always talkin’ ‘bout this judge he always beats at cards. Half the unit gave a little each to get ye back.”

“But me brother’d leave me there. He wants me gone.”

“Look, I’ve a favor to ask ye,” says Major Fitzmaurice, his tone becoming serious.

“What could I possibly do for ye?” asks Conan, unsure of what he will be asked.

“Ye’re good wi’ a sword.”

“Aye…”

“Teach me.”

“Sor?”

“Teach me. I never…’Twas always me worst…I’m better wi’ guns. Last two days, I got cut in combat. I couldn’t leave, so I’m hurt but good, hence the bandage on me left arm, hence the limp. I’ve two swords, both sabers. One’s a standard officer’s sword, an’ the other’s from bein’ knighted. I need some kind o’ last resort when me pistol jams.”

“I can teach ye that if ye give a good word to me brother.”

“Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Let’s get ye back to camp,” says Major Fitzmaurice as Conan finishes his dinner and has one last drink.

“I want to stay in town,” pleads Conan.

“Absolutely not,” replies Major Fitzmaurice firmly. “Ye’ve caused enough trouble.”

“I jus’ want to find a girl.”

“We’re headed back to camp. If someone else’ll take ye back to town, by all means, enjoy. I, on the other hand, have business tonight.”

“Emmy?”

“Aye.”

“I’ll ask Kian to take me to town.”

“Good man.”

“Thankee, sor.”

“Don’t make me sorry for comin’ to get ye.”

“I won’t, sor.”

“If ye do, I’ll kill ye,” says Major Fitzmaurice, leading Conan to stare up at him, eyes wide with terror, until Major Fitzmaurice laughs, lightening the mood.

When they return to camp, Conan goes to Liam’s tent and asks, “Will ye take me to town?”

“Sorry, Conan. Kerrigan’s comin’ to town tonight. I’m to fetch Mary, an’ we’re to meet Kerrigan an’ Jack for dinner. Ye can come wi’ me an’ some o’ the officers tomorrow. They’re takin’ me out drinkin’ one last time ‘afore I get married.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for anythin’.”

Conan finds his brother Kian, but he will not bring him to town because Owen is still unconscious. It is still early in the evening, so Conan asks Lieutenant Hackett to take him to town. Lieutenant Hackett never declines a chance to cavort with women, so he agrees to take Conan to the brothels with him. They return three hours later, just before the Colonel wakes. When Colonel Callahan wakes, he looks upon his brothers and smiles. Doctor Sparrow turns away from the Colonel and sees Conan in the light. When he does so, he insists upon stitching a gash on Conan’s forehead before he checks on Captain Boland a final time and goes to bed, collapsing immediately from exhaustion while the rest of the men in camp celebrate the Colonel’s survival with toasts and cheers.