Spilt Wine

28. Oh, God!

Sunday 13 April 1986

Catherine and I both slept in. The gentle lapping of ripples on the hull from the breeze had been a comforting, almost hypnotic sound. I was in the aft cabin and was the first up, and as I searched quietly through the galley cupboards, looking for utensils, a frypan and things to prepare breakfast, I must have made too much noise.

"You're awake!" Catherine called from the fore cabin.

"I've been up for a long time – getting on two minutes, now." I chuckled. "Come on, lazy bones! Feet on the deck. We have a ship to run here. Do you remember seeing a coffee press or a Melita in the cupboards? We brought some nice grind, and I'd hate to boil it."

"I saw a press there when Maddie and I moved things around during the survey. She had told me they were leaving all the galley things and tableware aboard, along with the linens and towels. It's probably right under your nose. Give me a couple of minutes to put myself together, this broodmare is growing and needs a bigger harness." She grunted. "The girls are getting too big."

"That's a pretty fine broodmare," I said as she came into the galley a minute or so later. "Looks much closer to a thoroughbred filly to me."

"You don't need flattery to get me to search." She laughed. "I'd find the press anyway; I want coffee myself."

It was 1045 by the time we finished breakfast and slipped our moorings to continue up canal. As we approached Écluse Pont Hémery, I nodded forward and said, "It appears l'éclusier saw us coming. There's the churn of the water at the bottom of the gates.

We passed up through Hémery and then La Biètre and continued along the pound. "There isn't much traffic, not like I remember it that summer," Catherine said, a dreamy expression filling her face.

"Yes, there's been a big decline in barge use of these smaller canals. It's increasingly difficult to compete with trucks with the expanded autoroutes. Bulk loads are the most common now, mostly sand and gravel and the grains and sugar beets in the silos and elevators." I pointed ahead. "Like the ones we see now above the trees at Aiserey. And there, the churn of water as the lock drains."

"Trains too. My uncle told me the coming of the railroads a century and more ago started the slow decline of the canal system."

"Yes, and between the two wars, there was a continuing decline as trucks took more loads. Fewer tolls for the canals caused maintenance to suffer, and sections of canals and river navigations were closed."

I pulled the engine lever to neutral to slow for the lock. "The growing rental boat business might save some of them."

We continued discussing the decline of the canals as we drifted toward the lock. A while later, seeing it emptying slower than I had anticipated, I pulled the lever to reverse.

"I remember long closed sections in Brittany. Papa showed us one when we went ..."

A dull thud came from aft, and the engine stalled.

"Damn!"

"What happened?"

"Don't know. May have picked up something in the prop. Good thing we've slowed so much."

"What do we do, now?"

"Ease into the bank and scrub off the last bit of way. Go look over the stern counter to see if anything looks unusual. Careful you don't fall overboard."

I eased Vrouwe Catharina's starboard side to the grassy bank and felt her gradually slowing.

"There's some rope and a piece of rag streaming out back here," Catherine called forward.

"As I suspected." After a short pause, I added, "Too much risk of damage to turn the shaft again." I looked along the bank. "Come here and take the helm." I stepped aside as she reentered the wheelhouse.

"Just hold her cheek along the bank," I said as she looked questioningly at me.

"Are we going to be okay?"

"We seem to have it under control. I'm going forward."

I walked briskly to the foredeck, sensing no need for greater speed, picked up the coiled back spring and hopped onto the top of the grassy bank we were scraping along. I strode forward and across the towpath, dropping winds from the coil of line as I went. Then, around the bourne, I headed back across the towpath and jumped aboard Vrouwe Catharina as she slowly passed.

Taking two turns around the staghorns, I prepared to warp the spring as the load came on it. After some initial juddering from the snubbing, the barge eased to a stop against the bank. I added turns, hastened aft and stepped off with the fore spring to walk it around the bourne and back aboard, where I turned it down on a cleat. "Good! We're here." I looked up and smiled. "PK 232 isn't so bad after all."

I continued aft past the wheelhouse, grabbed a boathook off its rack, and smiling at Catherine, said, "Isn't barging full of fun and adventure? I'll go untangle the screw."

A dark stain grew on the water as I prodded and pulled at the rags with the hook. "This is very heavy ... No! – Oh, my God! Oh, fuuuu ..."

"What is it, David? Are you okay? Do you need some help?" Catherine started aft along the side deck.

"Stay there, Catherine, you don't want to see this – I don't want to see this."

"What is it? What's wrong?"

I dropped the boat hook on the bank and got up from my crouch, pale, weak-kneed and nauseous. Then walking forward, I sat on the grass, shuddering. "I need some water, Catherine – something much stiffer later, but now a glass of water."

"David, what is it? Are you okay?"

"Yes, I am, I just need to sit a bit and quell my gag."

I lifted my face from my hands. "I think you should also sit."

She sat beside me, and I peered into her eyes, then tilting my head aft, I mumbled, "There's a body wrapped in those rags."