The Ferryman

Sudbrook, England - October, 1876

Lawrence Atwater rubbed a hand over his weathered face. His skin was akin to wrinkled leather after decades on the water. His hands were hard and calloused from a lifetime of knotting ropes.

The morning was brisk and the damp seeped into his coat. The weather had never bothered him, but now he felt his bones grow frigid. He drained his cup of tea and stood on the deck of his boat, watching the sun rise on the Severn.

Lawrence had known the river his entire life. His father, and many of his forefathers before, had all worked on its banks one way or another. Ferrying was in their blood. He still lived in the house his great, great, grandfather had built.

He stood still, watching the current. He dropped a small loop of twine in the water, he'd knotted it the night before. It was an offering to the river gods. Some mornings he threw flowers, or bits of his meal, no matter how small the gift was, he believed it was the intent that mattered. He'd been brought up to pay his respects in exchange for protection.

He was later this morning than usual, but he'd barely had enough fares the last few months to feed himself. It hardly seemed worth getting up at all lately.

He watched a larger barge push off from the port. The waves that rocked his vessel went unnoticed, he'd always felt more comfortable keeping his balance than standing on dry land. He could see a dozen or so passengers standing on the deck, and let out a heavy sigh.

As he contemplated going back to his warm bed, he heard a shout from the buildings behind the docks.

"Bollocks, we've missed it!" a short, stout man cursed, lugging a heavy suitcase. He was followed by a woman carrying a small child. Lawrence couldn't tell if it was a boy or girl as it was so bundled in warm clothes he could only just peer a little face.

"I can take you across, if you're needing transport." Lawrence was seeing a good meal and maybe some more oil for his lamps in this family.

The man looked skeptically at the small ferry. It was old, older than it's captain, but it was the only option for at least a couple hours.

"Can she make it?" the woman asked, her fear not hidden.

"Aye, miss, she can. It'll cost ya thruppence." he stepped on the dock and gestured for them to come aboard.

The couple spoke quietly, huddled together in argument. Lawrence didn't need to hear their words to know what they were discussing-the wife wanted to wait for the larger passenger barge, the husband didn't.

After a moment they boarded, and Lawrence put the coins safely in his breast pocket. He helped the man put the bulging suitcase next to his bench, and the family settled in the other end of the boat.

The family sat huddled together, the mother clutching the child in her lap. She looked seasick already. As he pushed off from the shore and began rowing, Lawrence hoped she had enough sense to be sick over the side.

He pushed them off from the dock. After nearly six decades of experience the rowing was second nature, though lately he needed to catch his breath more. And his shoulders and arms ached so often some days it was all he could do to climb out of bed.

But this morning was starting off well. He wasn't too pained for work, and he had work to do. He was pleased with that, even if it wasn't much.

The current was rushing fast and rising, it's muddy color making it hard to imagine there was life in its depths. Lawrence fought to keep the boat in a steady line to the far off shore.

He watched the couple as they settled back into a heated yet whispered argument. The mother seemed to have calmed a little and loosened her grip on the child.

As he rowed, Lawrence kept his eyes on the slowly approaching beach. He wondered how many times he'd made this journey in his life. First with his father, helping to unload whatever they were commissioned to haul. Then when he'd died, Lawrence had taken the reins at 15, supporting his mother and sister.

And now he was alone.

The little child toddled toward him slowly. Lawrence had never had children. His wife had died in childbirth when they'd only been wed a year. He'd been too heartbroken to remarry. He could see now it was a little girl, her green eyes as bright as a candle.

She sat next to her parents luggage and watched with fascination as he continued rowing. He figured it was better for her to watch the oars than her folks arguing. The time ticked by quickly, the current helping them along. It was only about 50 yards to the docks now.

The mother saw it first. "John, look!" she pointed for her husband to a large barge ship. It was too close. But before he could warn them the wake hit. The little girl had stood up then, trying to get her mother when she'd heard her voice.

The force of the wave nearly toppled them. Water sloshed all over. Lawrence felt his stomach drop as the child fell overboard. He jumped in after her before she was out of sight.

The ice cold river nearly froze him, but the blood coursing through his body was enough to keep his mind right. The water was brown, his eyes were wide but saw nothing but muck. He groped violently for the girl. He came up for air once, he barely registered the screams of his passengers as he dove in again.

Please let me find her, he prayed. All the years of offerings for protection filled his head.

This time he felt something hard and pulled with his strong arms. A small shoe, connected to a heavy body. He lifted her above his head. He swam with difficulty back to the boat until the father was able to pull his child to safety.

He scrambled into the boat, pulling on the luggage to haul himself up. He sat up in his seat and tried to catch his breath. It took a moment for him to hear past the pounding in his ears and notice the piercing cries.

"Oh Maggie, my baby!" the mother sobbed and was squeezing her child to her breast.

"Take her clothes off for Gods sake, and wrap something dry around her." Lawrence sounded rough, but if he got that girl out of the river he wasn't going to let her die of hypothermia before he got them all to shore.

He picked up his oars, and pulled them along with staggering breath. The shouts from onlookers egged him along, and by the time they reached the dock many hands were helping the family out of the boat. When someone tried to grab Lawrence and haul him out he shouted in objection. No one touched him after that.

He couldn't leave quick enough. He was angry and embarrassed, in all his years he'd never lost so much as a button overboard, let alone a child. Most of all he was scared of what might have been.

He rowed as hard as he could back to his dock, his home. As the adrenaline faded he felt a wave of nausea and pain ripple through his chest. He was halfway across the river now. He needed a minute, just a minute, to let the sickness pass.

He leaned back in his chair and felt the warm sun hit his face. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

Just a moment.

Lawrence cracked his eyes open. The moon was above him. How long had he been asleep for? He sat up with some difficulty. He felt stiff. But he was warm and dry. A blanket was draped over his lap. Where had that come from?

"Hello, Lawrence." her voice was wispy. He jumped when he heard her. The moonlight made her easy to see. Her hair was long and golden, her face soft and beautiful. Around her was an odd cloak, he couldn't make out what it was made of.

"Who are the hell are you? Where are we?" he asked.

"You know me, Lawrence Atwater. You've given me gifts for a long time, see?" she held her cloak closer to his face. Tiny flowers, twine, shells, even bits of bread and a few gold coins, all braided together. His payments to the river. "My name is Sabrina. You've known me a long time. " she gave him a smile.

His thoughts became clear. "Am I dead?"

"Yes, Lawrence. And I'm here to take you onward. There are many people waiting for you. And no more pain."

"How do we get there?" He was not afraid.

"I can drift us there, or you're welcome to row if you're up for it?" Sabrina sat back and gazed at the stars. Lawrence picked up the oars, so familiar, and rowed into the darkness toward the sea.

He watched the stars too, he'd never seen them so bright in all his days. He noticed his arms didn't ache, in fact, nothing about him felt the same. With each stroke through the black waters he felt the strength of his youth returning.

"I love to be above the surface, "Sabrina smiled serenely and let his hand slip into the water. "I so rarely get to take people on their journey anymore."

He didn't mind her cryptic words. All he could think about was seeing his wife and baby, hoping all she said was true.

"My grandfather called you Hafren, but my mother insisted it was Sabrina. She wasn't much keen on the Welsh." he felt foolish, wondering if he'd insulted her.

"I go by several names, they change with each river it seems." her voice as vague as her answer. He continued rowing, the silence peaceful.

The seaman on the shipping barge was smoking the last of his cigarette. He was looking out to the horizon, the ocean was only 30 or so miles away. He was so lost in thought he didn't know how long he was starring at the small row boat before he recognized it for what it was.

He'd been there for the dramatic unloading of the little girl who'd nearly drowned, and had tried to get Atwater out of the boat to get looked over. Lawrence had looked awful, grey in the face and frozen. But he'd been shoved off.

But now that was Atwaters' boat drifting off to sea. What the Hell is he doing? Oh God, something's wrong. He ran to find the Captain, and inform him that one of the last ferrymen in town was either seriously injured, or dead.

Atwater seemed to forever be on the horizon. It took nearly two hours for the first group to catch up to the small rowboat. The eager rescuers found him and any hope they'd had was immediately dashed. It was clear he had taken his last breath long before they got to him.

The only comfort given by the dead man was the peaceful look on his face.

The funeral was small, and with no money left he was buried in a communal grave. Friends he'd work with all his life attended and shared a drink in his honor. They spoke of Lawrence who was mostly remembered for insisting on never taking off without giving the river goddess Sabrina a gift. They hoped all his efforts were worth something in his end.

The End