“Can you steer?”
“I think so.”
“You take this oar and hold it under your arm close to the side of the boat and steer and I’ll hold the umbrella.” I went back to the stern and showed her how to hold the oar. I took the big umbrella the porter had given me and sat facing the bow and opened it. It opened with a clap. I held it on both sides, sitting astride the handle hooked over the seat. The wind was full in it and I felt the boat suck forward while I held as hard as I could to the two edges. It pulled hard. The boat was moving fast.
“We’re going beautifully,” Catherine said. All I could see was umbrella ribs. The umbrella strained and pulled and I felt us driving along with it. I braced my feet and held back on it, then suddenly, it buckled; I felt a rib snap on my forehead, I tried to grab the top that was bending with the wind and the whole thing buckled and went inside out and I was astride the handle of an inside-out, ripped umbrella, where I had been holding a wind-filled pulling sail. I unhooked the handle from the seat, laid the umbrella in the bow and went back to Catherine for the oar. She was laughing. She took my hand and kept on laughing.
“What’s the matter?” I took the oar.
“You looked so funny holding that thing.”
“I suppose so.”
“Don’t be cross, darling. It was awfully funny. You looked about twenty feet broad and very affectionate holding the umbrella by the edges—” she choked.
“I’ll row.”
“Take a rest and a drink. It’s a grand night and we’ve come a long way.”
“I have to keep the boat out of the trough of the waves.”
“I’ll get you a drink. Then rest a little while, darling.”
I held the oars up and we sailed with them. Catherine was opening the bag. She handed me the brandy bottle. I pulled the cork with my pocket-knife and took a long drink. It was smooth and hot and the heat went all through me and I felt warmed and cheerful. “It’s lovely brandy,” I said. The moon was under again but I could see the shore. There seemed to be another point going out a long way ahead into the lake.
“Are you warm enough, Cat?”
“I’m splendid. I’m a little stiff.”
“Bail out that water and you can put your feet down.”
Then I rowed and listened to the oarlocks and the dip and scrape of the bailing tin under the stern seat.
“Would you give me the bailer?” I said. “I want a drink.”
“It’s awful dirty.”
“That’s all right. I’ll rinse it.”
I heard Catherine rinsing it over the side. Then she handed it to me dipped full of water. I was thirsty after the brandy and the water was icy cold, so cold it made my teeth ache. I looked toward the shore. We were closer to the long point. There were lights in the bay ahead.
“Thanks,” I said and handed back the tin pail.
“You’re ever so welcome,” Catherine said. “There’s much more if you want it.”
“Don’t you want to eat something?”
“No. I’ll be hungry in a little while. We’ll save it till then.”
“All right.”
What looked like a point ahead was a long high headland. I went further out in the lake to pass it. The lake was much narrower now. The moon was out again and the guardia di finanza could have seen our boat black on the water if they had been watching.
“How are you, Cat?” I asked.
“I’m all right. Where are we?”
“I don’t think we have more than about eight miles more.”
“That’s a long way to row, you poor sweet. Aren’t you dead?”
“No. I’m all right. My hands are sore is all.”
We went on up the lake. There was a break in the mountains on the right bank, a flattening-out with a low shore line that I thought must be Cannobio. I stayed a long way out because it was from now on that we ran the most danger of meeting guardia. There was a high dome-capped mountain on the other shore a way ahead. I was tired. It was no great distance to row but when you were out of condition it had been a long way. I knew I had to pass that mountain and go up the lake at least five miles further before we would be in Swiss water. The moon was almost down now but before it went down the sky clouded over again and it was very dark. I stayed well out in the lake, rowing awhile, then resting and holding the oars so that the wind struck the blades.
“Let me row awhile,” Catherine said.
“I don’t think you ought to.”
“Nonsense. It would be good for me. It would keep me from being too stiff.”
“I don’t think you should, Cat.”
“Nonsense. Rowing in moderation is very good for the pregnant lady.”
“All right, you row a little moderately. I’ll go back, then you come up. Hold on to both gunwales when you come up.”
I sat in the stern with my coat on and the collar turned up and watched Catherine row. She rowed very well but the oars were too long and bothered her. I opened the bag and ate a couple of sandwiches and took a drink of the brandy. It made everything much better and I took another drink.
“Tell me when you’re tired,” I said. Then a little later, “Watch out the oar doesn’t pop you in the tummy.”
“If it did”—Catherine said between strokes—“life might be much simpler.”
I took another drink of the brandy.
“How are you going?”
“All right.”
“Tell me when you want to stop.”
“All right.”
I took another drink of the brandy, then took hold of the two gunwales of the boat and moved forward.
“No. I’m going beautifully.”
“Go on back to the stern. I’ve had a grand rest.”
For a while, with the brandy, I rowed easily and steadily. Then I began to catch crabs and soon I was just chopping along again with a thin brown taste of bile from having rowed too hard after the brandy.
“Give me a drink of water, will you?” I said.
“That’s easy,” Catherine said.
Before daylight it started to drizzle. The wind was down or we were protected by mountains that bounded the curve the lake had made. When I knew daylight was coming I settled down and rowed hard. I did not know where we were and I wanted to get into the Swiss part of the lake. When it was beginning to be daylight we were quite close to the shore. I could see the rocky shore and the trees.
“What’s that?” Catherine said. I rested on the oars and listened. It was a motor boat chugging out on the lake. I pulled close up to the shore and lay quiet. The chugging came closer; then we saw the motor boat in the rain a little astern of us. There were four guardia di finanza in the stern, their alpini hats pulled down, their cape collars turned up and their carbines slung across their backs. They all looked sleepy so early in the morning. I could see the yellow on their hats and the yellow marks on their cape collars. The motor boat chugged on and out of sight in the rain.
I pulled out into the lake. If we were that close to the border I did not want to be hailed by a sentry along the road. I stayed out where I could just see the shore and rowed on for three quarters of an hour in the rain. We heard a motor boat once more but I kept quiet until the noise of the engine went away across the lake.
“I think we’re in Switzerland, Cat,” I said.
“Really?”
“There’s no way to know until we see Swiss troops.”
“Or the Swiss navy.”
