There was one oar and a small tiller. This boat was meant to take a person from one side of the river to the other on a calm day, not fight the overwrought current on a stormy one.
“Hold that,” I bellowed at Signora Ruggeri, pointing at the tiller.
She obeyed, climbing the short distance to the stern, her cheeks streaked with rain and tears.
I heaved myself the rest of the way into the craft and took up the oar. With that and Moreau pulling the prow, we managed to take ourselves a bit closer to shore.
Streaks of lightning threaded the sky, bathing us in bright white light. The crack of thunder that followed immediately was deafening.
Signora Ruggeri wailed in fear, but she never let go of the tiller. Inch by inch, we moved toward the bank. I prayed that we could get ourselves out and under shelter before we were all struck by lightning.
A sharp gust lifted the boat, nearly tearing the oar from my hands. At the same time Moreau slipped, and the prow struck him squarely in the face.
His arms when up, and he went down.
“Moreau!” I yelled.
The river swirled where he had been, white foam bubbling in the rain.
“Where is he?” Signora Ruggeri shrieked.
She tried to lean to find him, but I pushed her back down. “Steady it,” I commanded.
She wept, but obeyed. She gazed fearfully into the water, hands locked on the rocking tiller.
I reached over the gunwale as far as I dared, breaking the waves with my hands. I shouted, not for Moreau, but for anyone on the bank to help us.
My heart banged in relief when Moreau surfaced about ten feet from me. He tried to gain his footing but was losing the fight with the current.
I desperately rowed toward him. The river pushed us sideways. Signora Ruggeri resolutely held on to the tiller, gaining my respect for her resilience.
Moreau started to go down again. I thrust the oar at him, and he lunged for it, but his hands slid away.
I dropped the oar behind me, braced my feet on the bottom of the boat, and thrust my arms deep into the water. Rain pelted me, soaking my hair and running inside my coat.
I found the thick material of Moreau’s jacket, with a warm, living body inside it. I hoisted him upward with all my strength. Signora Ruggeri counterbalanced with her weight and the tiller, keeping us from going over.
Moreau broke the surface, water pouring from his mouth.
The face he turned up to me held not fear, but shock. He’d expected me to let him drown, perhaps assisting the river in taking him.
I hauled Moreau into the boat, he landing in a wet heap on top of me. He coughed and gasped, while I struggled out from under him and took up the oar.
“Don’t you die on me,” I snarled at him. “I will not live with the guilt of killing the man who once left me for dead. And I truly do not want to face Madame Paillard with the news.”
Moreau grunted a laugh, then coughed again, spilling foul river water onto the boards.
With our combined weight, the boat sagged lower in the water but was steadier. I rowed as hard as I could, nearly weeping in relief when the boat finally wedged in the shallows of the bank.
I reached for Signora Ruggeri and half lifted, half tossed her over the side, where she landed knee-deep in the river. She wasted no time struggling up onto the muddy shore, then waited as I got Moreau out of the boat.
I wrapped his arm around my shoulders, taking his weight as we climbed to safety. Moreau lost his footing more than once, but we managed to stumble up the bank.
Another bolt of lightning struck, dancing on the top of the bridge.
Signora Ruggeri scurried to us, looped her arm around Moreau’s other side, and helped us escape the pull of the river. At the top of the bank, she sagged, but I shouted at her not to stop.
“We need to get under something.”
