Free Conceived in Liberty by Howard Fast Page A

whistled softly at the way the veins showed through. He took a piece of cloth and washed the arm as well as he could. He grumbled: “Can’t bathe—give me a hell hole of an icehouse and call it a hospital. I’m as filthy as you—nice on top, but just as filthy underneath.” He picked a tiny object from Vandeer’s arm. “See that? Lice—all of you lousy with them. What can you expect?”
    He took a lancet and opened a vein in Clark’s arm. Then he held out the arm, so that the blood drained into a basin slowly. The blood was dull red. The way it came, so slowly, made me think there was little enough left in Clark. The doctor asked Ely:
    â€œHow long since he’s eaten?”
    â€œWe haven’t eaten in three days—any of us.”
    The doctor whistled again.
    â€œHe’s weak—he’ll bleed to death,” Ely said.
    â€œWhat can I do? I’m not God, in spite of your Jew here. I’ll bleed him until his reason comes back. He’d die anyway.”
    We stood there, grouped round the bed, fascinated by the blood welling out of Clark’s arm. Clark began to speak. He asked for Ely. Expertly, the doctor stopped the flow of blood. He pinched the vein together with his fingers, and then quickly bound it over with cloth.
    â€œI’m here, Clark,” Ely said.
    â€œWhere’s Jacob?”
    â€œHe was broke by yer words. He had no strength to come. We bore you to the hospital, Clark.”
    â€œWho came?”
    â€œAllen and the Jew.”
    â€œA great load. Allen’s loaded with the blackness of his sin. You’ll plead him to give up the wench, Ely?”
    Ely didn’t answer.
    â€œYou’ll plead him, Ely!” Clark cried. “I’m a dying man.”
    Ely nodded. I said: “Clark—you’re putting a dreadful black curse on me. I love her.”
    â€œPromise me, Allen!”
    I shook my head.
    Then he closed his eyes. Ely turned away.
    â€œLet him sleep,” the doctor said. “Come with me.”
    We went into a room in back. He had a table there, a bed, and a heat box. The coals in it were dying. He put a wooden plate on the table, took out a pot with a few slices of cold meat in it.
    â€œWe don’t have much——”
    I yearned toward the meat. Ely didn’t move. The Jew was smiling sadly.
    â€œThat won’t feed the army,” Ely said.
    â€œDon’t be noble,” the doctor told him. “It will feed you.” Then he saw the Jew’s smile. “You can go to hell,” the doctor said. “You’re a filthy pack of beggars. It’s a wonder if the English lay hands on your filth to swing you from their gibbets.”
    We stood there.
    â€œDrink some rum,” he said. He poured three small cups. “Drink it, or by God, you’ll die before you reach your quarters.”
    The rum warmed us up, but made us dizzy. We stood there, sucking in the heat and the comfort of the rum burning our insides. The doctor was sitting on his chair, regarding us as if we were some curious specimens he had picked up.
    â€œYou and me,” the doctor said, speaking to the Jew and in Dutch, “we’re the only civilized men here. You and me—in a land of savages, of filth and ignorance and superstition. They know one thing. They want to be free to cheat themselves and kill each other. They want to be free of the English. They want to be free to cheat and lie and hate. They want to be free to plunge a land into ignorance and misery. I’m here because I’m a fool. But why you?”
    The Jew shrugged.
    â€œYou came with a great dream of a land for your kind.”
    â€œA land for all men.”
    â€œIt’s big enough. But men are the same—here or Europe. If they win—and they won’t—but if they win, they’ll drive you out. You’re a Jew, a heathen.”
    â€œThey won’t drive us out,” the Jew said