On the first morning of autumn, Nia found her grandfather polishing the brass bell of the Little Gull. The ferry had crossed the river mouth for fifty-two years, carrying schoolchildren, fish crates, and the occasional nervous goat. A new bridge had opened upstream, and the village council had decided the ferry was no longer necessary. A notice beside the ticket hut announced its final sailing on Sunday. Her grandfather read it twice, then folded it into a square. “A bridge is faster,” he said. “That does not mean it is always there.”
秋天的第一个早晨，妮娅发现祖父正在擦拭“小鸥号”的黄铜铃。这艘渡船在河口航行了五十二年，载过学童、鱼箱，还有偶尔一只紧张的羊。上游的新桥开通后，村委会认定渡船不再必要。售票亭旁的一张通知宣布，它将在星期日最后一次航行。祖父读了两遍，然后把它折成一个方块。“桥更快，”他说，“但这不代表它总在那里。”
Nia spent the week helping him prepare. They scrubbed the deck, checked life jackets, and painted over a rust patch shaped like a whale. Only six passengers booked the final trip: two birdwatchers, a nurse, a baker, and twins who had never ridden the ferry. Her grandfather greeted each one by name. As the Little Gull pulled away, Nia rang the bell. The sound crossed the water and returned, thinner, from the far bank.
妮娅用了一周帮他准备。他们擦洗甲板，检查救生衣，还给一块形状像鲸鱼的锈斑刷上漆。最后一次航行只有六名乘客：两位观鸟者、一名护士、一位面包师，还有一对从未坐过渡船的双胞胎。祖父叫得出每个人的名字。小鸥号离岸时，妮娅摇响铃铛。声音越过水面，又从对岸折回来，变得更细。
A Saturday storm bent the poplars and knocked out the bridge lights. By morning, a fallen tree had blocked the ambulance route. The nurse from the final ferry trip stood at the ticket hut with medicine for a child on the far bank. The two birdwatchers were stranded too. The harbor master studied the river, then asked Nia’s grandfather whether the Little Gull could cross through the sheltered channel. He looked at the old ferry, then at the nurse. “She has one more trip in her,” he said.
星期六晚上，一场暴风雨吹弯了路边的杨树，也打灭了桥灯。到早晨，一棵倒下的树堵住了唯一的救护车通道。最后一次航行中的那位护士站在售票亭前，手里拿着一只小冷藏箱，里面是给对岸一个孩子的药。两位观鸟者也被困住了。港务长观察着河面，然后问妮娅的祖父，“小鸥号”能不能沿着有遮挡的航道小心地过河一次。祖父看了看旧渡船，又看了看护士。“她还能再跑一趟，”他说。
Nia begged to go, but her grandfather shook his head. “This time you are the voice on shore.” He showed her which radio channel to use. She watched the Little Gull ease into gray water, its bell swallowed by wind. For twenty minutes, reports crackled: channel clear, engine steady, medicine dry. Then silence. Nia counted waves until the ferry reappeared, slower now, carrying the nurse and six relieved passengers. Her grandfather waved from the wheelhouse. Later, she noticed his hands were shaking.
妮娅请求一起去，但祖父摇了摇头。“这次你是岸上的声音，”他说。他教她使用哪个无线电频道。她站在码头上，看着小鸥号驶入灰色的水面，铃铛声几乎被风吞没。二十分钟里，无线电断断续续传来简短报告：航道清楚、发动机稳定、药箱干燥。然后是沉默。妮娅数着浪，直到渡船重新出现，速度更慢，载着药和六名松了口气的乘客。祖父从驾驶室挥手。后来，她注意到他的手在发抖。
Two weeks after the storm, the bridge reopened, but the council meeting was different. The nurse spoke about the medicine crossing. The birdwatchers sent a letter. Nia presented a proposal with help from her grandfather: keep the Little Gull as a volunteer shuttle for school field trips and a backup for emergencies. The council argued about insurance and fuel. In the end, they approved a six-month trial. Her grandfather pretended not to care, but Nia caught him polishing the bell that evening. “A trial,” he repeated, as if testing the word for leaks.
暴风雨过去两周后，桥重新开放，但村委会的会议变得不同了。护士讲述了那次送药的航行。观鸟者寄来一封信。妮娅在祖父的帮助下提出方案：让“小鸥号”继续作为学校实地考察的志愿渡船，并在紧急情况下备用。委员会争论保险和燃料费用。最后，他们批准了为期六个月的试运行。祖父装作不在乎，但那天晚上，妮娅撞见他在擦铃铛。“试运行，”他重复道，好像在检验这个词会不会漏水。
On the first Saturday, twelve students climbed aboard with notebooks and binoculars. Nia stood beside her grandfather and called out depth readings. They stopped at a mudflat where the birdwatchers pointed out herons and sandpipers. A girl asked whether the ferry would still be there when she grew up. Her grandfather glanced at Nia. “That depends on who learns to take care of it,” he said. Nia wrote the sentence down and underlined it twice.
试运行的第一个星期六，十二名学生带着笔记本和望远镜上了船。妮娅站在祖父身边，报出水深读数。他们停在一片泥滩边，观鸟者在那里指点苍鹭和小型鹬鸟。一个女孩问，等她长大，这艘渡船还会在吗。祖父看了妮娅一眼。“这取决于谁学会照顾它，”他说。妮娅把这句话写进笔记本，还在下面画了两道线。