There was nobody around. Actually there were a few people but they had dead eyes, none of them were going to help the girl. Even if someone without the dead stare was around, they would more likely place bets on how many swipes it would take to kill her.
I didn't want to be them. I didn't want to be that. I couldn't.
There was no debate in my head before I began running. I heard one short surprised grunt from an observer but nothing else. I ran the short distance hard and slammed into the man. He fell and his head made a wet smacking sound against a crate, he screamed -not in pain but out of anger- and tried to stand up but he fell overboard.
The man floated away and sank. He didn't come back up. The people on the shore did not move to help nor did they think anyone should. The girl sat there, her head bleeding badly, she stared straight ahead, one on her forehead and one on the oar. As if she just wanted to keep doing as she had been told.
I did my best to clean her wound and wrap it with a dirty shirt I ripped up. It seemed to have belonged to the man.
“Do you have a mother? Anywhere to go at all?” I asked. She shook her head. I took her hand and pulled her up. She tooled around and found a couple of jars of preserves and carried them like they were a treasure. I took her home.
Mom didn't say anything. She just began warming up a tub of water and led the girl to another room to “freshen her up”.
“'Knew this would happen one day when I wasn't there to stop you” he said, putting his whittling away.
“I couldn't just leave her there, I don't know why.” I said apologetically.
“I know.” he said “It's because you are a hero. Probably the only one left.”