The Second Panel

A loaded barge is aground right by the lock and must be off before the water rises. The winches are paired, the panels stand on opposite banks, and only Rem can hold the second one — the boy Alice has counted a rival for two years. Asking him means admitting you cannot manage alone.

A grain barge grounds on a shoal two steps from the lock, and it has to be off before the evening horn: the water is rising. Alice has the shift, and the barge is hers to answer for. The trouble is that the basin winches come in pairs — one hauls, the other holds the stern, the panels stand on opposite banks, and they must work to the same second. Only Rem from the next jetty can hold the second panel: the same Rem who last autumn took a towing job Alice had agreed first. An attempt with one winch alone ends with the stern swinging wide and the barge settling deeper. Admitting it cannot be done without him turns out to be harder than hauling cable. Alice walks to the next jetty and asks straight. Rem is quiet a second longer than is comfortable — and picks up his jacket. There is no line between the banks, only a flag and a count said aloud; the first attempt fails through Alice's error, and Rem drops the tension before any signal without one word of reproach.