About this story
The drowned man on your rope is named Harmon, and his fortune follows you ashore. You marry Eugene Wrayburn by a licence bought for his deathbed and keep the last watch at Betty Higden's water stair; her stone says she died upon the open road. Sixty-four chapters carry you from a hooked corpse to your own mooring on the evening tide.
How it opens
Autumn evening closed over the Thames between iron Southwark Bridge and the stone arches below it.
Your father's battered boat carried a rusty hook, a coil of rope, and no honest sign of ordinary trade.
The tide is turning, Lizzie; let him search without you tonight.
Gaffer HexamShe rows straighter than any waterman who charges by the hour.
Choose
Father will go whether I row or not, and I would rather be beside him.
Study while there is light; one of us should find a road off the river.