Oliver’s first Birthday

Oliver had a party for his first birthday. We had taken Camelot up into a slip at the head of Gustavia quite near Jethro’s school. It was the Easter holidays. Several little friends came along with their parents to a table set out in the grassy area near the boats. I served up egg mayonnaise sandwiches and jelly with fresh fruit. I made a carrot cake with one candle in the middle.

Les correcting the stem on Camelot

The following day Les started work on Camelot’s stem. He was an experienced shipwright and had agreed to work in exchange for a re-cut of his flying jib. When we had the new bowsprit made in Nanny Cay Jon had made up a clipper bow effect with laminated marine ply. Now that the topsides were varnished it looked all wrong. Les looked closely as he removed the ply and said,

“This is a bit of a donkey’s breakfast, Mr Alsop” which was an expression I had never heard before.

In the centre of the saloon was a folding teak table. When the leaves were up it had nicely rounded bevelled edges. When it was folded down there were sharp right angles. We rarely used the table as we usually ate in the cockpit.

Oliver was just waking up from his late morning nap as I was washing dishes in the galley. He woke up pulling himself to his feet. Shaking the netting he called out to me his newest phrase,

“Dobbydit, Dobbydit”

Which roughly translated meant ‘let me out of here’. I carried on putting dishes away and said :

“Alright, darling, I”ll be there in a minute.”

Suddenly the netting pulled away from the deck head and Oliver tumbled forwards. I was only three feet away but could not catch him in time and his head hit the sharp table right angles. As I scooped him up I saw to my horror a hole in his head about two and a half inches long and half an inch wide. I could actually see his scull.

Blood pouring from a huge gash

I pinched the wound together with my fingers and called out to Jon in the cockpit “HELP! Help me!” He had already heard the screaming. He stepped over the lifelines and said , “Pass him to me,” holding his arms out. Clutching the wailing child he ran to Lou Lou’s pick up truck which was idling nearby while he talked to Les. As Lou Lou turned the truck , Jethro and I climbed in the back and he raced off up the hill,to the hospital.

The hospital was staffed by French Carmelite nuns. As Jon carried the still howling baby gushing blood three nuns took charge. One telephoned for the doctor. The other two carefully placed Oliver on an operating table and efficiently cleaned the wound. The doctor came in minutes later. He said to me,

“Quel age a-t-il? Que pese-t-il?”

I thought quickly and replied in my best French, “He was one year old yesterday and weighs about ten kilos.”

Only French spoken in Hospital

Doctor Nolan injected some morphine into Oliver’s bottom. As soon as the drug began to take effect, he prepared to stitch the wound. Jon and I took Jethro outside as he too was very distressed.

“Is he going to be alright, mummy?” He asked me through his tears. I cuddled him tightly.

“Yes I am sure he is, my love, these doctors and nurses are very clever.”

When we went back inside Oliver was sleeping and had eight neat stitches in his forehead. Soeur Marie put a dressing over the stitches then bound his head with bandages. Doctor Nolan told us to bring him back in three days time to have the dressing changed. He said the stitches could come out in ten days time. The nun passed him to me saying,

“Il sera bien. Les blessures a la tete saignent toujours abondamment.”

I understood he would be fine and that head wounds always bleed profusely.

Doctor Nolan gave us some anti bacterial medicine to be administered twice daily and at the desk Jon paid the bill for that and the operation. He reassured us that Oliver would be fine. He would sleep for a while and he wished us well. His head was totally swathed in bandages.

Lou lou was still waiting outside. He took us back to Camelot. Jethro took hold of his sleeping brothers hand and said to him,

“Now you look like a real pirate.“

I carefully laid Oliver back in his bunk and changed our bloodied clothes. I cleaned up the stains from the cockpit, decks and saloon floor while Jon reassured Jethro on the aft deck. I was still in shock so strong tea was required. We made good the netting fittings but knew we would have to rethink that arrangement.

I could not help wondering how we would have coped if that accident had happened on our awful passage a few weeks earlier. It could have been hours before we could get him to a hospital. It was a huge relief to see Oliver behaving normally when he came round a couple of hours later. His pupils were equal, he was balancing well and reaching out to touch things accurately, even pointing out low flying planes,

“Ar bat, Daddy!”

The Magical Healing Powers of Aloe

Three days later when we took him back to have the dressing changed, Soeur Marie took all the bandages off and we could see the neat wound healing nicely. She placed a fresh gauze patch over the wound and a simple bandage holding that in place. I asked if there was anything else I could do to help the wound heal. She took me out into the garden and showed me a spiky Aloe plant. She broke off a leaf and showed be the green slime inside. If I applied that straight from a plant once a day that would help the wound to heal.