The next day was much like the one before-save that we were stiff and aching from our rough sleep and the previous day's exertions, and the hill rising before us was steeper than either of the two we had conquered. 'The settlement is in the valley beyond,' Dodu said once we gained the top. 'There is a wide meadow and a stream. We will get water and something to eat.'

'Then why are we waiting?' demanded Sarn. 'The sooner we reach the settlement, the sooner we can get something in our stomachs.'

The first part of the ascent went well, but when the incline grew suddenly steeper, and we could no longer move the boat by pulling on the ropes, we were forced to push. The day passed in a haze of sweat and blistering sunlight. The muscles in my shoulders, back, and legs knotted; my throat grew dry and my tongue seemed to swell in my mouth. My feet tangled time and again, so that I had to struggle to stay upright. Each slow, agonizing step became a battle of will and determination as we fought our way to the top where we collapsed in the middle of the road to lay gasping and staring up at the sky, the sweat running from our bodies in rivulets. After a time, I sat up and looked down into the valley. As Dodu had said, the settlement was little more than two clusters of buildings huddled together beside the road with fields on either side; there was a small stone enclosure for pigs, a few hayracks, a raised storehouse, and a stand of trees beyond the fields. It may not have been much, but, God be praised, it was not far, and the slope was not steep.

The end is in sight, I told them; the hard work is over. We have but to ease the wagon down the hill and rest is ours-food and drink as well. 'We will eat and drink tonight,' I said, 'and sleep on straw. Come! Our supper awaits.'

'I wonder if they have any beer?' said Sarn.

'I will gladly settle for bread and water,' remarked Padraig.

'Listen to you now,' said the haulier, still puffing as he climbed laboriously to his feet. 'Down there lives the woman who makes the best ale from the Seine to the Saone-and smoked pork chops, too. I always buy a few whenever I pass.'

'Why have you kept this from us till now?' demanded Sarn. 'You should be telling us this from the first.'

'I did not want to cause you an injury,' replied Dodu. 'Thinking about such things on an empty stomach can cause a man to forget what he is doing.'

Our shadows were long on the hilltop as we rose to take up the ropes for the last time. With groans and moans and much gritting of teeth, we eased the boat-laden wagon down the slope one step at a time. With each step, the farm holding came nearer and I could almost taste the ale in the jar. I was jolted out of this pleasant anticipation when Sarn struck his foot against a stone and fell. I heard him cry out and saw him sprawling in the dust, the rope flying from his hands. Suddenly unbalanced, Dodu stopped and reared back with all his might. Unfortunately, he could not hold the weight by himself, and was jerked off his feet.

Before I knew it, Padraig and I were plummeting down the hill, trying desperately to slow the free-wheeling wagon. Roupen dashed to our aid. He ran up and shoved the tree branch in front of the wheels, but the wagon was already moving too fast. The wheels bumped over the branch and kept on rolling.

There was nothing for it, but to throw off the ropes and save ourselves. Padraig stumbled, still clinging to the rope, and was dragged through the dust. 'Let go, Padraig!' I shouted, releasing my grip.

The boat sped down the slope, rattling and creaking as it bumped over the close-rutted road. Faster and faster it fell, slewing this way and that, gathering pace with astonishing swiftness as it careened down the hill.

Padraig climbed to his feet and brushed himself off. 'Pray God it does not hit the house,' he said.

Even as he spoke, one of the wagon wheels struck the side of the rut. The front wheels bounced and turned, sending the wagon onto a new course-straight for the nearest dwelling. Padraig raced past me, shouting with all his might. 'Danger!' he cried. 'Danger! Get out of the way!'

What anyone might have made of this warning, I cannot say. But suddenly we were all flying down the hill after the runaway boat. Despite our fatigue and aching muscles, we ran like madmen for the settlement, shouting for all we were worth. 'Danger! Get away!'

The on-rushing wagon struck a bump in the road and veered into the long grass growing beside the road; the grass brushed against the hull of the boat and slowed the plummeting wagon somewhat.

A stone wall forming part of the pig enclosure stood beside the house. The wagon ploughed through the grass, scraping the side of the boat against the wall, knocking two or three tiers of stone from the top. This slowed the wagon further-but not enough to prevent the impending collision.

The keel of the boat hit the midden heap, showering dung and debris into the air. The wagon bounded into the air and came down with a terrible crash as it drove into the side of the house.

Padraig was the first to reach the wreckage. He put his head through the hole in the wall and called to see if anyone was hurt. I was next to reach the house. 'I do not think anyone is here,' he said, turning to me.

Sarn, two steps behind me, came running up. 'Is the boat damaged?' He climbed up onto the hull and looked inside.

Roupen, his thin limbs trembling with excitement, came to stand beside me. 'Never in my life have I seen such a thing,' he said, his voice quavering as he gulped down air. 'It was…' he paused to find the word he wanted, '… magnificent!'

'The hull is unharmed!' announced Sarn, much relieved.

'I wonder where everyone has gone?' said Padraig, moving around the corner of the house to search the yard on the other side.

'Is no one here?' asked Roupen. He put his head in through the collapsed wall, looked quickly, and then said, 'That is a mercy. Someone might have been killed.'

Sarn climbed out of the boat and began examining the place where the hull had scraped against the wall. Padraig reappeared to tell us that there were no animals in the pens, or in the barn, and no one in the fields behind the houses. Then he disappeared again, to search the buildings across the road.

'Is there any ale?' asked Dodu strolling up at last. Red-faced and puffing from the unaccustomed exertion, he sat down on the rim of a wagon wheel and drew his sleeve across his sweating face. 'I am dying.'

'There is no one here,' I informed him.

'Impossible,' replied the haulier. 'In all the years I have been coming this way, there is always someone here.'

'Look for yourself,' I said. 'The house is empty, and so are the fields.'

Padraig returned just then with a wooden bucket in his hands. 'I found the well,' he said, handing the bucket to me. I passed it to Roupen, who put his face in the water and began slurping away.

While the bucket made its slow round, I asked Padraig what else he had discovered. 'There is fodder in the crib,' he said, 'and water in the trough. There is grain in the storehouse. We will have meal and water at least.'

Dodu moaned and shook his head. Sarn stepped around the stern of the boat and said, 'Bad luck. The mast is broken. The end splintered when it struck the house.'

'Can it be repaired?'

'Perhaps,' he said unhappily. 'We will have to see.' He walked away shaking his head.

'What should we do now?' asked Roupen.

'Padraig has found meal and water,' I replied. 'Let us see if we can find anything else to eat.'

While Dodu and Roupen searched the farm houses, Padraig and I set about making a fire in the yard. I took wood from the pile beside the door, and a flint and iron from inside the now-ruined house. While I struggled with lighting the fire, Padraig found a cooking pot and filled it with water from the well. He took a quantity of ground meal from a bag in the storehouse, and added it to the water. He then brought the pot to me and, when the fire was going sufficiently, he placed it on the flames, and sat down to keep watch over it.