Ready? Thomas waited until Ella had her second shoe on before digging the oars into the black water. He could still feel the bottom. He pushed the boat out. The blade of the second oar was broken, half of it was missing and the wood was rotten. Thomas put both oars in the rowlocks and rowed steadily, while Ella sang. The dark blue of evening was sinking into the mist.
Where do we go?
Ella shook her head. She felt chilly. How was she to know what the distant bank would be like, or what now lay behind them? So she said: Just out on the lake.
Thomas rowed. Softly, down in the water, crazy, I lost the dream. . Thomas had often revised the lines of his latest poem, added to them, crossed them out. The little elvers’ joy in water, on the stone, it is always theirs, never my own. Ella thought up a tune to go with it and hummed in time to his words. As she hummed she stamped her feet on the bottom of the boat, hoping that would warm them up. The sky above the lake was pitch dark now, they couldn’t make out a light or see the bank any more.
My tummy’s grumbling. On all fours, Ella crawled over to search under the seat for the basket of food. The bread was wet and cold. Soft bread? She tore a piece off, tried it. Not so bad after all. She offered her brother some, but he didn’t want any, he had to row to keep from freezing. She chewed the bread until it tasted sweet in her mouth. She washed two carrots in the lake by holding them in the water and rubbing the earth off with her fingers. Thomas didn’t want a carrot, so Ella ate both. She went on stamping her feet, but it was no use, the night air above the lake was implacable. Ella lay down in the bottom of the boat, wrapped herself in the quilt and tried to forget the cold. The splash of the oars made her sleepy. She turned from side to side, she lay tucked up as tightly as possible, knees to her chin, arms wound round her legs. But the damp had permeated her clothes and the quilt, Ella’s back was cold and her feet frozen. Could she still feel her toes? Käthe would be alarmed, panic-stricken, she’d come looking for them. The first thing she’d notice would be the missing quilt. Ella dreamed, and knew it was only a dream when she saw Käthe running over the marshy ground calling out loud: Thomas! Ella! The cold stifled her cries. The waves grew larger, lapped louder and louder against the boat, broke on the bank, the stones of the landing stage, the wooden boat. Was Ella asleep or awake? Suddenly she couldn’t hear the splash of the oars, she woke with a start, raised her head, and couldn’t make anything out in the dark.
Thomas?
She heard only the waves.
Thomas?
Ella felt sick. She groped around, the quilt, the timber of the boat. Thomas!
What is it? Thomas sounded hoarse, he must have dropped off to sleep.
Why don’t you answer me?
I am answering you.
I. . I. . Ella’s hand worked its way up to the side of the boat, she felt her stomach churning, there was no stopping it; in a kneeling position she leaned over the side, the sudden pain made her body rear, she vomited.
What are you doing?
Ella was throwing up. She wanted to say something, but she had to throw up and still keep hold of the edge of the rocking boat. Now she felt Thomas’s hand on her back.
Can I help?
Ella shook her head, although Thomas wouldn’t see it in the dark. Ella got her arm over the edge of the boat, held her hand in the icy water, rubbed her fingers against each other and cupped them. The water of the lake tasted good, soft and sweet, its icy cold numbed her throat and took away some of the sour flavour in it.
Thomas had put his arm round Ella’s shoulders.
What’s the time? She turned to him, everything was still swaying, she felt dizzy, but the retching had gone away. Cold sweat stood out on her forehead, on her back.
Wait a minute. Thomas crawled over the bottom of the boat, looking for something. Ella heard the faint hiss of a match. Too damp. Thomas wasn’t giving up, he rubbed every match several times to expose its tiny head, a third match, a fourth, until at last there was a little flame. The candle burned faintly, and Thomas had to shield the flame with his hand to keep the wind from blowing it out at once. Three thirty. He held his wristwatch to his ear.
Ella’s dizziness overcame her, she closed her eyes. She imagined her brain like a water level in her skull, bobbing up and down inside it. Her brain glowed blue, it gave off tiny bubbles that popped with a faint sound before they softly broke. She felt Thomas putting her woolly gloves on her hands. They were frozen, stiff and cold. It took him some time because Ella could hardly move her fingers. Then he moved away, and Ella heard banging, bumping sounds. He raised her leg, the quilt; the boat was rocking, obviously he was searching for something under the seats. She wanted to ask what, but she couldn’t speak. Her tongue was heavy and sour in her mouth. When the noise had died down again she blinked at him. In the light of the candle that Thomas had put in a preserving jar, she saw that he had jammed the camping stove between his knees. He was trying to light it.
The gas canister’s empty.
Or damp, thought Ella.
I don’t think damp is bad for a gas canister, why would damp affect gas? It’s empty.
Who cares, Ella wanted to say, but she couldn’t get the words out. Maybe she’d have to throw up again, even though her stomach was empty now.
Thomas scratched the gas canister with his fingernail. He smelled it. Nothing but the smell of burnt keratin left on his nail by the match.
How much longer were they going to stay out here on the water? Ella’s nose was running, the handkerchief that her fingers could feel in her trouser pocket was a wet clump of cloth. Ella summoned up all her strength, she tried to open her roughened lips, move her mouth, wiggle her tongue. Let’s go back. I can’t stay out here any longer.
Thomas nodded, he looked at his compass. You take this, will you? I’ll row. He handed Ella the little container.
Where do you think we are?
Thomas looked around, there was no bank in sight; he put his head back, neither moon nor stars, nothing but darkness. No idea. He rowed faster. If we keep going north-north-east, we ought to reach our side of the lake.
The wind was rising; a gust blew out the candle. Ella didn’t need a compass to know where north was. She closed her eyes. Now and then she said: Over to port a bit. The wind was driving them too far east. A duck quacked, another duck, the children heard the flapping of their wings.
She couldn’t move her toes separately. With her legs drawn up, Ella was half sitting, half lying under the clammy quilt, her head resting on the side of the boat, one eye open, the other closed. Careful! A little buoy was visible in the water. Ella craned her neck, but she still couldn’t see the bank. Take it slowly, the fish-traps must be somewhere near here.
Thomas firmly raised an oar out of the water and held it aloft, he was sure they had come to a net. Then he sat down again. Thomas rowed, there was never a calmer, better oarsman.
Soon after that, they saw the first poles sticking out of the water. The marks on them and the arrangement of the fish-traps looked familiar to Thomas. He said something that was meant to encourage Ella, but she couldn’t quite understand what it was. Ella and the cold had become as one, so much so that she felt hardly anything now, neither the cold nor herself.
They were rowing north. Shadows appeared out of the darkness, swathes of mist drifted by, parting for a few moments to offer a clear view. The bank traced a vague outline, maybe trees, a fairly long landing stage; now they recognised the place as Rahnsdorf from the two weeping willows and the faint lights. In the distance, Ella saw a red light, then a green one showed, the little harbour must be over there. They bore west and rowed past the first houses and the harbour itself. They recognised the boathouses; in the summer they had often played in one of them; Michael who went to school with them kept his boat there. They had made a sail, in Käthe’s studio they had soaked a large sheet in warm, liquid wax, they had dried it and sewn it and practised sailing with it as long as it lasted. But at this early hour there wasn’t a human soul in sight. Ella watched the white clouds of her own breath; if they were still there she couldn’t have frozen to ice yet. They did not put in and tie up the boat until they reached the stone landing stage. It was nearly four thirty, no sign of dawn yet.