We found ourselves at the brink of the returning tide. We walked through it without notice, so thick was the very air with water, until the flood reached Dr. Trefusis’s knees, and there he halted, swaying. “I cannot continue,” said he. “I will return to shore.”

Thus his offer; but well did I know that he had no intention of returning to the bank and could not unassisted, did he wish to. I was aware that if I left him, he would sink to the ground and allow the waters to cover him.

I instructed him to climb upon my shoulders.

“I will drag you down, Octavian.”

“You have risked your all for me, sir; and it is only right that I do the same for you.”

He considered this, and at length, we now feeling the motion of the tide through our legs, said, “When I become burdensome, cast me off backwards.”

I leaned down as best I could with the waters rising, and he clambered atop me, clawing at my head and neck for purchase. When he was situated, I stood again and began striding through the returning sea.

I know not whether we miscalculated the hour and season of the tides; whether we had stumbled too far out in the darkness; whether the mud-flats were less passable than they appeared from the shore, flat puddles actually concealing deeps; or whether, had we been able to see the topography of the mud-flats around us, we could have avoided this current by circumnavigation. There was no time to ponder the extremity and futility of our progress. I walked on, clutching the ankles of my shivering tutor.

The water soon was around my waist. The tails of my shirt were licked to the side. By such actions of the tide, at least, I determined the direction of the mouth of the Bay, whereby the water returned; and knowing this, I oriented myself so that we headed, as I figured it, near to due north, so we would intersect with the city, were we not swallowed up by the waves.

The waves came up around my elbows. They slapped at my chest. One beat as high as my neck, and I struggled to remain upon my feet, hitting at the water for balance.

“Saint Christopher carried the infant Christ upon his shoulders,” murmured Dr. Trefusis above my head. “And now, the child carries me.”

“You have carried me often enough, sir,” said I. “Whenever you praised me to Mr. Sharpe, you held my head above the water. For that, I owe you my eternal gratitude.”

“My boy,” said Dr. Trefusis, weeping, and he slapped his hand, clammy and shaking, on my forehead.

This display of sentiment was interrupted by a detonation so loud I stumbled. It was, I perceived, summer lightning cutting through the storm, etching mud and spire.

“No worry,” said Dr. Trefusis. “The most excellent place one could be in a lightning storm is stranded in the middle of a wide, featureless plain, chest-deep in water.”

“The lightning has at least afforded us a glimpse of the city, sir. It is to our right.”

“We will not reach it, Octavian. Throw me off and swim.”

“I can do no such thing.”

He sighed and tapped my arms. “I hope to meet Louis the Fourteenth again in Hell.”

“Do not speak of that place, sir.”

“I was but a child when introduced to him. I should like to ascertain if even in the flaming chasms of Tartarus, he wears high-heels.”

“Please, sir.” I stumbled onwards.

Again, the lightning rolled through the heavens. This time, I perceived something near to us — a dark shape upon the water but a few rods off. I believed it was a boat.

I stalked forwards, the water now risen fully to my chest. The drag upon my limbs was considerable. With difficulty did I make my way across the seaweed beds and barnacled rocks beneath us.

The boat rested upon the waves; and therein, slumped, was a single, cowled figure. There was a lantern before him, fixed to the seat, which illumination touched the edges of objects obscure in their outlines.

The water surged past my swaying frame, and I sought to remain tall as the wavelets teased me.

The cowled figure perhaps surveyed us, or perhaps was hunched in sleep or even death.

“Sirrah,” said Dr. Trefusis. “You are in a boat, and we are out of one.”

I reached out and seized upon the gunwale of the boat. “Sir,” said I, “we must beg your mercy. Might we climb aboard?”

The figure, dimly seen in lamplight, pulled one oar free of the lock and suspended it above my hands, prepared to do violence to my grasping fingers.

“Gentle Charon,” said Dr. Trefusis, “conveyancer of the dead, I have obols on my tongue.”

The figure made to strike us with his oar.

Rapidly, I translated: “My master offers you money.”

The figure regarded us. “Ye,” said it, “are a strange kind of fish.”

“Never has fish been so eager to be landed,” said Dr. Trefusis. “Though not, perhaps, gutted.”

“When this fish talks of ‘money,’ what does it mean?”

“Sums in excess of one crown for passage to the city.”

“Describe the excess, sir.”

“Two shillings. I offer you a crown and two shillings.”

“In fish money. Surely that ain’t good human money. Refigure. What d’ye call that in the money of men?”

“In human currency, I should think that an even pound.”

“Y’art a good, talkative fish, but not strong in sums.”

“Perhaps I mistook the exchange,” said Dr. Trefusis. “A guinea.”

“And two shillings more for not slitting ye and frying.”

“Agreed,” said Dr. Trefusis. He reached out to grasp the lip of the boat.

Our conductor said, “One other rule, sirs: Ye glimpse my face, and I cut your throats.”

Dr. Trefusis climbed aboard. The water was now moving strongly against my chest. My weight being much greater than Dr. Trefusis’s, there was some danger of my upsetting the craft as I clambered aboard. Both my tutor and our mysterious captain leaned out over the water opposite to me, that they might right the boat while I struggled over its gunwales. The boat was heavy laden with casks covered in a tarpaulin. I scrambled up, heaved by our captain’s hand, and lay panting upon the boards.

Once we were settled, facing resolutely away from our host and his fatal visage, he commenced rowing.

Dr. Trefusis and I huddled side by side, our eyes fixed upon points in the darkness, that we might avoid any accidental glimpse of our captain’s features. We heard only his rowing and felt the advancement afforded by his strokes upon the oars. We kept ourselves in silence, in obedience to his dictatorial will.

I know not what his errand, so hidden in obscurity, was that night. After a half an hour, we were approached by a whaleboat, also marked with a lantern upon her, and the two drifted without words until they were joined in comfortable parallel. Shadowed sailor confronted murky oarsman like a levee of the dead. “Gift for your mama,” said our shrouded captain. Without further parley, he unloaded his wooden casks from beneath the tarpaulin, and they were received by two figures on the other vessel, which wraiths stowed them under a cloth and produced a purse that they proffered to our host. He took it, said only, “Keep them dry, boys,” and began to row away.

The rain had lessened now. The returning Bay was fully in sweep around our prow. It was but fifteen minutes after that we approached the wharves of our interdicted city.

Our revenant rowed to the side of a dock and held it with one hand. “Two pound,” he said.

Dr. Trefusis did not argue. He reached into his shirt, drew forth a money-bag, and paid out the sum.

We rose and stepped out of the boat.

We were come at last to the city.

Our spectral host lifted his hands from the dock, thus giving himself over to the directions and exhortations of the tide; and with that, he was swept away into the darkness.