on their way. Their trousers were drenched at the turn-ups, their light shoes were sodden and their overcoats were dotted with so many raindrops that they looked to be covered in frost.
Barigazzi scrutinized them, smiling complacently: “Well, you may as well know that nothing like this has happened for ten years, and the last time things didn’t go too smoothly.”
“The prefetto is ready to sign an evacuation order.”
“He can sign what he likes. We’re not evacuating. We’re not scared of the water. It’s better than the roads around here…”
Shortly after, the officers set off, going gingerly in second gear in the direction of the main road. Their headlights picked out the tumbling sheets of rain. Thousands of litres per second, reducing the land to a marshy waste, and under that slow curse the light in the barge cabin came on again.
“Either he’s having bad dreams or else he can’t get to sleep,” Vernizzi said.
“It’s that grandson of his,” Torelli said. “Maybe he’s just got back and the old man is bawling him out.”
“I doubt it.” It was Gianna who interrupted. “They hardly talk, they communicate through sign language. With this weather, I have an idea that the boy’ll be keeping well away from the river.”
“Well then, the old bugger’s got muddled. He’s setting off.”
“At this time? That means navigating all night in the fog.”
“And staying awake, like on guard duty,” Gianna muttered.
Barigazzi stared at her reprovingly. “The water’s high and that keeps you away from the sandbanks. There’s no traffic on a night like this. And Tonna knows what he’s up to.”
More than half an hour had gone by, so he went out again to check the stakes.
Meantime the radio continued broadcasting messages from up and down the river. “The tributaries are like torrents. It’s overflowing at some points. They’ve started evacuating? Where?”
In the room, they followed the radio, interrupting the game when some fresh item of news came through. A lamp flickered on the yard outside, before fading out. It was Ghezzi, leaving his bicycle in the shelter. “The lorry with the sandbags has arrived,” he came in to tell them. “The mayor has sent the officers around the houses to tell the families to prepare for evacuation.”
“He’s off his head,” Torelli spluttered. “Nobody’s going to move before the water is lapping around their front doors.”
“Well, Tonna’s cast off,” Vernizzi told them, looking out in the direction of the quay.
The barge looked even more imposing. At that moment, it gave the impression of light buoyancy, pitching slightly as it manoeuvred out into midstream, slipping slowly away from its mooring, straddling the current briefly as it hesitantly left the quay before getting on its way, carried effortlessly off by the flow.
“Still no navigation lights,” Torelli said, pointing to the cabin light, just visible in the seconds before the barge reached the middle of the river.
“Tonna’s getting on a bit,” Vernizzi cut him off sharply. “Did you not see the manoeuvre he’s just done? He wanted to rely on the wind to get him out and he nearly crashed his prow into the sandbank. He was saved by the flood.”
Nobody added anything and in the silence all that could be heard was the radio giving out more data on the water levels. “It’s coming over the floodplains… They’re going to have to open the channels to reduce pressure… They’re filling the sandbags…“
Everything alongside the river was in a ferment, while it itself seemed to be flowing peacefully in the night. There was no other movement apart from the incessant downpour. Barigazzi remained silent, his eyes fixed on the middle of the Po where the barge had moved off into the distance. Now he could see only its three-quarter outline and the light still shining in the cabin. The old man made a gesture of bewilderment or disbelief with his hand. The only sound was the unending crackling of the radio.
“He went off like a piece of wood tossed into the current,” Torelli said.
“It looked as though it was the current that carried him off,” Ghezzi said.
“A coypu burrow? Whereabouts? Letting water through? Is anyone working on it? You’ll need to place the sandbags where the embankment is lowest…” The radio dialogue went on, interrupted only by an electrostatic crackle.
“Tell him that Tonna has set off,” Vernizzi shouted to the boy who was operating the radio.
The boy picked up the microphone to let all the stations down the valley know that the barge would be passing. At that moment they became aware that Barigazzi was not there. Gianna made a gesture with her chin indicating the jetty. “He went out,” she said. “He’s away again to check his stakes.”
Torelli looked at the clock. “Is he checking them every quarter of an hour now?”
The sudden brightness of headlights told them that a car pulling a trailer with a boat hoisted on to it was passing along the muddy road under the main embankment, proceeding slowly, lighting up the raindrops as it went.
“Taking it home,” Ghezzi said.
“In weather like this, it’ll be more use in the back-yard than at the jetty,” Vernizzi said.
“He’s taking his time,” Torelli said, referring to Barigazzi.
“If he keeps going out to check and cut notches in them, all he’ll do is cause confusion,” Gianna said. “Another round?” She raised the bottle.
The Fortana was held aloft for a few seconds like San Rocco in a procession, but no-one replied. It was as if they had become aware only then of the oddness of Barigazzi’s absence.
“It’s a long time till dawn,” Torelli said, staring out at the impenetrable darkness. He was trying to imagine how far Tonna would have got on his journey down the river. He might already be at Casalmaggiore, and perhaps could see the lights of the dredgers swaying as they were buffeted by the relentless rainfall.
Barigazzi came back in without a word. He sat down and turned to look at the jetty where until a little while ago the barge had been.
“Any higher?” Vernizzi said.
The old boatman made no reply. He raised himself to his feet, supporting himself with both hands on the table, and then went over to the boy working the radio.
“Can you give the alarm with that, or is it better to use the telephone?”
The boy gave Barigazzi a puzzled look, deeply unsure of what to do next.
“Do you mean Tonna?” Torelli said.
Barigazzi nodded. “He set off as though he had hot coals up his arse. He threw off the gangplank sideways, and left a rope on the quay. I’ve never seen him do that before.”
“What did I tell you?” Vernizzi said. “That was not a manoeuvre, whatever else it was.”
“Nobody saw if he was working down there on the quay.”
Torelli stared out with the look of a man taking aim at bowls. “We couldn’t see him from here,” he said. “Not in this dark…”
“The rope looks to have been sliced through, cleanly, with a knife.”
“Keep a look-out for barge, already subject of warning,” the boy said into his microphone. “Danger to shipping: more than two hundred tons afloat… The way he cast off aroused suspicion… Tonna knows his business, but this time… Repeat, no navigation lights, only a cabin light, and in this weather… He set off without engine… Problem steering by helm alone…”
“If he bangs into the column of a bridge, he could bring the whole thing down,” Vernizzi said.
“If he gets stuck and the barge turns into a dam, the current will capsize him,” Barigazzi said. “The river’s really high now, and you need your wits about you.”
Vernizzi was on the telephone to the carabinieri, but the conversation sounded unduly laborious. “Maresciallo, I’m telling you I have no idea whether Tonna was actually on the barge. Certainly, you need someone who knows what he’s about, or else… We saw the light going on and off twice, then the barge moved into midstream… Was he there? Obviously someone had to be there… That’s right, the ropes were thrown ashore any old way…” He hung up almost in a sweat. “The maresciallo says there are only two of them on duty,” he informed the company. “They all go home for All Souls. He’ll alert the stations along the way.”
Ghezzi looked out at the enormous sheet of water and felt almost afraid. “Where will he be by now?”
“Maybe at the mouth of the Enza,” Barigazzi said. “If my boat were in decent shape, I’d go after him. Maybe I’d manage to draw alongside
