A farewell to arms
window-panes. It was coming in the open window. Some one had knocked on
the door. I went to the door very softly, not to disturb Catherine, and
opened it. The barman stood there. He wore his overcoat and carried his
wet hat.
“Can I speak to you, Tenente?”
“What’s the matter?”
“It’s a very serious matter.”
I looked around. The room was dark. I saw the water on the floor from
the window. “Come in,” I said. I took him by the arm into the bathroom;
locked the door and put on the light. I sat down on the edge of the
bathtub.
“What’s the matter, Emilio? Are you in trouble?”
“No. You are, Tenente.”
“Yes?”
“They are going to arrest you in the morning.”
“Yes?”
“I came to tell you. I was out in the town and I heard them talking in a
café.”
“I see.”
He stood there, his coat wet, holding his wet hat and said nothing.
“Why are they going to arrest me?”
“For something about the war.”
“Do you know what?”
“No. But I know that they know you were here before as an officer and
now you are here out of uniform. After this retreat they arrest
everybody.”
I thought a minute.
“What time do they come to arrest me?”
“In the morning. I don’t know the time.”
“What do you say to do?”
He put his hat in the washbowl. It was very wet and had been dripping on
the floor.
“If you have nothing to fear an arrest is nothing. But it is always bad
to be arrested—especially now.”
“I don’t want to be arrested.”
“Then go to Switzerland.”
“How?”
“In my boat.”
“There is a storm,” I said.
“The storm is over. It is rough but you will be all right.”
“When should we go?”
“Right away. They might come to arrest you early in the morning.”
“What about our bags?”
“Get them packed. Get your lady dressed. I will take care of them.”
“Where will you be?”
“I will wait here. I don’t want any one to see me outside in the hall.”
I opened the door, closed it, and went into the bedroom. Catherine was
awake.
“What is it, darling?”
“It’s all right, Cat,” I said. “Would you like to get dressed right away
and go in a boat to Switzerland?”
“Would you?”
“No,” I said. “I’d like to go back to bed.”
“What is it about?”
“The barman says they are going to arrest me in the morning.”
“Is the barman crazy?”
“No.”
“Then please hurry, darling, and get dressed so we can start.” She sat
up on the side of the bed. She was still sleepy. “Is that the barman in
the bathroom?”
“Yes.”
“Then I won’t wash. Please look the other way, darling, and I’ll be
dressed in just a minute.”
I saw her white back as she took off her nightgown and then I looked
away because she wanted me to. She was beginning to be a little big with
the child and she did not want me to see her. I dressed hearing the rain
on the windows. I did not have much to put in my bag.
“There’s plenty of room in my bag, Cat, if you need any.”
“I’m almost packed,” she said. “Darling, I’m awfully stupid, but why is
the barman in the bathroom?”
“Sh—he’s waiting to take our bags down.”
“He’s awfully nice.”
“He’s an old friend,” I said. “I nearly sent him some pipe-tobacco
once.”
I looked out the open window at the dark night. I could not see the
lake, only the dark and the rain but the wind was quieter.
“I’m ready, darling,” Catherine said.
“All right.” I went to the bathroom door. “Here are the bags, Emilio,” I
said. The barman took the two bags.
“You’re very good to help us,” Catherine said.
“That’s nothing, lady,” the barman said. “I’m glad to help you just so I
don’t get in trouble myself. Listen,” he said to me. “I’ll take these
out the servants’ stairs and to the boat. You just go out as though you
were going for a walk.”
“It’s a lovely night for a walk,” Catherine said.
“It’s a bad night all right.”
“I’m glad I’ve an umbrella,” Catherine said.
We walked down the hall and down the wide thickly carpeted stairs. At
the foot of the stairs by the door the porter sat behind his desk.
He looked surprised at seeing us.
“You’re not going out, sir?” he said.
“Yes,” I said. “We’re going to see the storm along the lake.”
“Haven’t you got an umbrella, sir?”
“No,” I said. “This coat sheds water.”
He looked at it doubtfully. “I’ll get you an umbrella, sir,” he said. He
went away and came back with a big umbrella. “It is a little big, sir,”
he said. I gave him a ten-lira note. “Oh you are too good, sir. Thank
you very much,” he said. He held the door open and we went out into the
rain. He smiled at Catherine and she smiled at him. “Don’t stay out in
the storm,” he said. “You will get wet, sir and lady.” He was only the
second porter, and his English was still literally translated.
“We’ll be back,” I said. We walked down the path under the giant
umbrella and out through the dark wet gardens to the road and across the
road to the trellised pathway along the lake. The wind was blowing
offshore now. It was a cold, wet November wind and I knew it was snowing
in the mountains. We came along past the chained boats in the slips
along the quay to where the barman’s boat should be. The water was dark
against the stone. The barman stepped out from beside the row of trees.
“The bags are in the boat,” he said.
“I want to pay you for the boat,” I said.
“How much money have you?”
“Not so much.”
“You send me the money later. That will be all right.”
“How much?”
“What you want.”
“Tell me how much.”
“If you get through send me five hundred francs. You won’t mind that if
you get through.”
“All right.”
“Here are sandwiches.” He handed me a package. “Everything there was in
the bar. It’s all here. This is a bottle of brandy and a bottle of
wine.” I put them in my bag. “Let me pay you for those.”
“All right, give me fifty lire.”
I gave it to him. “The brandy is good,” he said. “You don’t need to be
afraid to give it to your lady. She better get in the boat.” He held the
boat, it rising and falling against the stone wall and I helped
Catherine in. She sat in the stern and pulled her cape around her.
“You know where to go?”
“Up the lake.”
“You know how far?”
“Past Luino.”
“Past Luino, Cannero, Cannobio, Tranzano. You aren’t in Switzerland
until you come to Brissago. You have to pass Monte Tamara.”
“What time is it?” Catherine asked.
“It’s only eleven o’clock,” I said.
“If you row all the time you ought to be there by seven o’clock in the
morning.”
“Is it that far?”
“It’s thirty-five kilometres.”
“How should we go? In this rain we need a compass.”
“No. Row to Isola Bella. Then on the other side of Isola Madre go with
the wind. The wind will take you to Pallanza. You will see the lights.
Then go up the shore.”
“Maybe the wind will change.”
“No,” he said. “This wind will blow like this for three days. It comes
straight down from the Mattarone. There is a can to bail with.”
“Let me pay you something for the boat now.”
“No, I’d rather take a chance. If you get through you pay me all you
can.”
“All right.”
“I don’t think you’ll get drowned.”
“That’s good.”
“Go with the wind up the lake.”
“All right.” I stepped in the boat.
“Did you leave the money for the hotel?”
“Yes. In an envelope in the room.”
“All right. Good luck, Tenente.”
“Good luck. We thank you many times.”
“You won’t thank me if you get drowned.”
“What does he say?” Catherine asked.
“He says good luck.”
“Good luck,” Catherine said. “Thank you very much.”
“Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
He bent down and shoved us off. I dug at the water with the oars, then
waved one hand. The barman waved back deprecatingly. I saw the lights of
the hotel and rowed out, rowing straight out until they were out of
sight. There was quite a sea running but we were going with the wind.
CHAPTER XXXVII
I rowed in the dark keeping the wind in my face. The rain had stopped
and only came occasionally in gusts. It was very dark, and the wind was
cold. I could see Catherine in the stern but I could not see the water
where the blades of the oars dipped. The oars were long and there were
no leathers to keep them from slipping out. I pulled, raised, leaned
forward, found the water, dipped and pulled, rowing as easily as I
could. I did not feather the oars because the wind was with us. I knew
my hands would blister and I wanted to delay it as long as I could. The
boat was light and rowed easily. I pulled it along in the dark water. I
could not see, and hoped we would soon come opposite Pallanza.
We never saw Pallanza. The wind was blowing up the lake and we passed
the point that hides Pallanza in the dark and never saw the lights. When
we finally saw some lights much further up the lake and close to the
shore it was Intra. But for a long time we did not see any lights, nor
did we see the shore but rowed steadily in the dark riding with the
waves. Sometimes I missed the water with the oars in the dark as a wave
lifted the boat. It was quite rough; but I kept on rowing, until
suddenly we were close ashore against a point of rock that rose beside
us; the waves striking against it, rushing high up, then falling back. I
pulled hard on the right oar and backed water with the other and we went
out into the lake again; the point was out of sight and we were going on
up the lake.
“We’re across the lake,” I said to Catherine.
“Weren’t we going to see Pallanza?”
“We’ve missed it.”
“How are you, darling?”
“I’m fine.”
“I could take the oars awhile.”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Poor Ferguson,” Catherine said. “In the morning she’ll come to the
hotel and find we’re gone.”
“I’m not worrying so much about that,” I said, “as about getting into
the Swiss part of the lake before it’s daylight and the custom guards
see us.”
“Is it a long way?”
“It’s thirty some kilometres from here.”
I rowed all night. Finally my hands were so sore I could hardly close
them over the oars. We were nearly smashed up on the shore several
times. I kept fairly close to the shore because I was afraid of getting
lost on the lake and losing time. Sometimes we were so close we could
see a row of trees and the road along the shore with the mountains
behind. The rain stopped and the wind drove the clouds so that the moon
shone through and looking back I could see the long dark point of
Castagnola and the lake with white-caps and beyond, the moon on the high
snow mountains. Then the clouds came over the moon again and the
mountains and the lake were gone, but it was much lighter than it had
been before and we could see the shore. I could see it too clearly and
pulled out where they would not see the boat if there were custom guards
along the Pallanza road. When the moon came out again we could see white
villas on the shore on the slopes of the mountain and the white road
where it showed through the trees. All the time I was rowing.
The lake widened and across it on the shore at the foot of the mountains
on the other side we saw a few lights that should be Luino. I saw a
wedgelike gap between the mountains on the other shore and I thought
that must be Luino. If it was we were making good time. I pulled in the
oars and lay back on the seat. I was very, very tired of rowing. My arms
and shoulders and back ached and my hands were sore.
“I could hold the umbrella,” Catherine said. “We could sail with that
with the wind.”
“Can you steer?”
“I think so.”
“You take this oar and hold it under your arm close to the side of the
boat and steer and I’ll hold the umbrella.” I went back to the stern and
showed her how to hold the oar. I took the big umbrella the porter had
given me and sat facing the bow and opened it. It opened with a clap. I
held it on both sides, sitting astride the handle hooked over the seat.