Cora Dubois raced along the wet cobblestone street of the plague-ridden city that was New Orleans. She had raised the long tail of her dress and fastened it under her belt to free her legs for running. The precious bottle of laudanum was gripped tightly in her hand. Her father was very ill with the dreaded yellow fever. She hoped desperately that the laudanum would help him fight off the disease.
She had been gone from her home much longer than she had planned. The druggist had locked his pharmacy and retreated to his home to be with his family during the yellow fever epidemic. Fortunately Cora knew where he lived far out in the Garden District and had hastened there. The druggist had given her a bottle of laudanum from his private stock.
A warm, steady drizzle fell from the dark overcast sky and Cora was soaking wet. Water lay in broad pools covered with a green scum that looked like velvet and stank dreadfully. The slops and garbage of the past days added their fermenting filth, for the slave brigade of street cleaners had not been at their task since the yellow fever epidemic had worsened days ago. Some of the pools completely flooded the street and Cora ran splashing directly through them.
Mosquitoes rose up in black clouds from the foul liquid on the ground as Cora ran past. They swarmed about her and she batted at the blood-sucking pests with her free hand. She squinted her eyes to keep the ugly insects out, and breathed through her nose so she wouldn't swallow any of them.
The streets were mostly deserted. Many people had fled the city, going to towns upriver, Baton Rouge and others that were not bothered with yellow fever. Nearly all those people remaining were hidden away in their homes. The few that were on the street drew back and with worried, fearful faces watched the young woman race past.
Cora turned into the street where she lived with her father and sister, Maude. A funeral procession was coming along the street toward her. Two caskets were in the open-sided hearse. Both were marked with lampblack, as was the custom to show that Bronze John, the name given to yellow fever because of the color it gave to the skin of its victims, had killed again. Cora heard the wailing of the women trailing behind in the rain. The men were mute in their sorrow.
A man riding a sorrel horse came splashing past the funeral procession and halted at the gate to Cora's home. She recognized Carl Thurgood, a friend of her father. He tied his horse to the fence and stood waiting for her.
As Cora drew close, Thurgood shook his head in disapproval. "Cora, you shouldn't be out on the streets alone, for there are thugs, and thieves, and even worse skulking about," he said. He unbuttoned his raincoat to show her a pistol shoved in under his belt. "Even I don't feel safe without this."
"I had to go to the pharmacy for medicine for Father," Cora replied.
"It's closed."
"I know. I had to go to the druggist's house."
""You're lucky you made it safely. I heard about your father being ill. How's he holding up?"
"Not well at all. He had a terrible headache and a bad chill when I left. How bad is the epidemic, Mr. Thurgood?"
"It's very bad. Charity Hospital has thirteen hundred patients. The Marine Hospital has nearly two thousand. Beds of the sick are crammed in every ward, hallway, and storage room. At the Marine Hospital, hundreds of army tents have been set up outside. They are overflowing. People are dying by the hundreds every day."
"What's being done to stop the disease?" Cora cried out. "Why can't the doctors do something."
"They don't know what causes the disease. The mayor called a meeting of the city officials, the doctors at both hospitals, and the Commanding General from Fort Jessup. They have decided to try and drive the disease away with loud noises and smoke. The general will bring all his big guns, two hundred cannon and one hundred howitzers, into the city and begin firing them. A burning tar barrel will be placed at every major street intersection in the city and near the hospitals and sailors' boarding houses."
"Do you think that will do anything to end the epidemic?"
"I doubt it." Thurgood pulled himself astride the sorrel "Tell your father I wish him a quick recovery from his ailment."
"Thank you, Mr. Thurgood, for coming by. I'll tell Father that you were enquiring about him."
"Goodbye, Cora." Thurgood reined his horse back the way he had come.
Cora hastened across the yard to the front door. She kicked off her dirty shoes and went inside the house and across the parlor to her father's bedroom.
Albert Dubois lay on his bed. He was covered by several blankets and sill hie was shivering. There was a bronze cast to the skin of his face.
Maude, Cora's sister and ten years older at twenty-six, was seated by the sick man's bed. She was a tall, heavy-boned woman. She got up quickly as Cora came into the room. "What kept you?" she snapped at Cora. "Father's gotten worse and needs the medicine."
Cora looked into Maude's worried, haggard face. "I ran all the way," Cora said. She was not angry at Maude's tone of voice, for she understood her sister's concern about their father. She hastened past Maude to the sick man's side.
"Father, I have the laudanum for you."
Albert opened his eyes and fastened them on Cora. He gripped the blankets with his shaking hands. "I was worried when you were gone so long."
"I'm here now. I'll give you some laudanum and perhaps that will make you feel better."
She pulled the cork from the bottle. She lifted Albert's head and placed the bottle to his lips. "Don't take too much now. Just one swallow."
The glass bottle rattled against Albert's shaking teeth as he dutifully took the laudanum. "Thanks, daughter," he said. He drew the blankets tightly around himself as Cora lowered his head. "Did you learn anything about how bad the epidemic is?"
"Mr. Thurgood was here asking about you. He gave me some news." Cora relayed what Thurgood had told her. She concluded with, "The doctors don't know what causes the disease."
"The doctors are a stupid bunch," Maude said in a harsh tone.
"They tried the cannon and tar barrels in '47 and '53 and I don't think it did one whit of good," Albert said.
"That's probably all they can think of to do," Cora said. "What shall I fix you to eat?" she asked.
"I can't eat anything," Albert replied. He was beginning to shiver more violently. "But give me another swallow of that laudanum. Maybe it will lessen my chill and headache."
* * *
Cora jerked awake and sat bolt upright in her bed. The ear-bursting explosion still rang in her ears. She sprang from bed and ran through the house to the front porch.
She hastily looked along the street. In the early dawn light, she saw men in blue uniforms moving around an army cannon stationed at the intersection two blocks distant. Dark gray gunpowder smoke still hung above the big gun. As she watched, one of the artillerymen hurried to the muzzle, dropped a bag of gunpowder in, and began to ram it down the barrel.
She smelled the acrid fumes of something burning. It couldn't be the gunpowder smoke from the cannon, for it was too far away. She looked in the opposite direction. At the far end of the block, a burning tar barrel shot red flames and black, oily smoke into the air.
"Neither the cannon nor the tar barrel will do a bit of good," Maude said, behind Cora.
"Maybe not," Cora said. "But I pray to God that it does."
"We'd better look at Father," Maude said. She hastened inside with Cora close behind.
Albert did not see his daughters come up to his bed. He lay gripping his head, squeezing hard against his skull to equalize the tremendous pressure building within. The echoing bass drum inside his temples was growing louder, the beats jarring and thunderous. Surely his skull was going to explode.
He began to shake uncontrollably, his muscles involuntarily fighting one another in the body's instinctive action to warm itself. The very core of him became frozen, as if his heart was pumping frigid blood. Blackness closed around him.
Cora sprang forward and grabbed her father's thrashing body. She tried to hold him under the blankets and on the bed. But he was a large man and even in his weakened condition, he was too strong for her.
"Maude, help me!" Cora cried.
Maude stepped close, pushed Cora aside, and took hold of her father's shoulders. She pressed him down, pinning him to the bed with her strength and weight. "Please lie still, Father, so I don't hurt you," she pleaded.
Cora moved away from the bed and stood watching. Her sister continued to hold their father, thrashing about in his feverish delirium. He shouted out an undecipherable babble of words.
Maude looked over her shoulder at Cora. There were tears in her eyes, and her face had a lost, helpless expression. "He's dying. The only person in this world who loves me is dying."
"I'm still alive, Maude, and 1 love you."
Maude stopped shaking her head and stared at Cora, considered her sister's words. After a moment she spoke. "He is the only one who truly loves me, loves me as I am."
"I do love you," Cora said again.
But Maude was turning away and not listening to Cora. She continued to hold her father, looking down with anguish upon her face.
Albert fought against the cold and the terrible drum beat in his head. He struggled to organize his thoughts, for there was something very important he had to say to his daughters. He felt a wet, warm drop of liquid fall upon his lips.
He opened his eyes and stared up with blurred vision.
Maude was leaning over him and holding him by the shoulders. Were those tears in her eyes?
"Please don't cry, Maude," he whispered weakly.
An expression of pure relief and happiness flooded Maude's face. She eased her grip on Albert. "It's wonderful to hear your voice, Father."
Albert struggled to hold onto consciousness. It was nearly impossible to see through the haze that filled the room. "Cora, are you there?"
"I'm here." Cora realized his vision was failing him.
"Come close beside Maude."
Cora came forward and stood near Maude. "Yes, Father?"
Albert looked up into the blurred faces above him. He spoke, his voice a faint whisper. "The yellow fever has killed all of our line of Dubois except for us three. Now I think I will die."
Maude burst out with a heart-wrenching sob. Cora began to cry silently.
Albert stared at his daughters. His vision was becoming even worse, but he could see them in his mind's eye. They were so different, so very unalike. Cora was a gentle person, and outstandingly beautiful with fair skin, brown, lustrous hair, and large brown eyes that seemed to smile at you when she spoke. Maude had exactly the same coloring of skin and hair, but God had not been kind to her. She was large and plain and, worse still, had a violent temper if crossed.
"You must leave New Orleans at once, before Bronze John kills you." He rested a moment, gathering his fading strength. "My savings are in the bottom of my trunk, more than four hundred dollars. Take the horse and buggy and go to Baton Rouge, or Saint Louis."
"I'll never leave you," Maude cried.
"She's right," Cora said. "We'll not leave you here sick, and with no one to care for you." She saw her father was holding onto consciousness by only a slender little thread.
"But you must leave before you die too."
"There's no way you can make me go," Maude said vehemently.
Albert now saw only darkness around him. He dredged up the last remnants of his strength. "You must promise me that you will leave after I am dead. And you both must go together to look after each other. Do you promise?"
"We promise," Maude said. "But don't talk like this, for you're not going to die."
You are wrong, thought Albert as the drumbeat grew and the pressure rose inside his skull. A heavy blackness flooded through his mind and wrenched control away from him. He began to thrash wildly in delirium. The last thing he remembered was Maude's strong hands holding him gently and lovingly against her.