E. Nesbit

“ His light leap into the boat of his choice brought to his view an iron bar that lay at the bottom of the boat.
“Hullo—I say—catch hold of this iron rod,” he said. “I don’t want a cargo of rails on board.”
“That’s the crow-bar, sir,” said the man who had gotten the boat ready; “you’ll want it at the locks. There’s no one to put you through—you have to work the locks yourself.”
“Take off the rudder,” said Templar, and shot out from among the crowd of boats.
The Medway just above the Anchor is a river of dreams. ”

“ She had her crow-bar ready in her hands, flung it out, jumped out after it, ducked under the long tarred timber and stood beside him on the narrow plank. A fool, he reflected later—oh, and many people not at all fools,—would have tried to come along the plank from the other side, and thus have had to pass him, jarring the hurt hand in the passing.
“Hold on tight with your other hand,” she said. “You’ll feel beastly when I get the pin up, and if you tumble into the lock I can’t help you.”
A crow-bar is a heavy thing, and it is not every woman who can use it. ”

“ You raise the sluices of a Medway lock quite simply: you just hike them up by means of your crow-bar, whose end fits into square holes in the side of the tall tarred post, that is, so to speak, the handle of the spade that is the sluice. You lever this thing up, one hole at a time, and to prevent its slipping when you have got it up, you put in an iron pin that rests horizontally on the top of the lock-gate, and holds up the sluice. ”

“ When he tried to lift the pin with his right hand its movement communicated itself to the hand that was held fast, and it hurt him more than ever—but he did not say damn again. Instead, he turned towards her a face grey and drawn with pain, and said:
“I’m awfully sorry to bother you—I’ve smashed my fingers under this pin. Could you get a man and a crow-bar, do you think? I’m very sorry to bother you, but I’m quite helpless.”
Before he had got to “man” she had pushed off, and almost as he said “helpless” her boat bumped against the wall at the lock’s other side. ”

“ There is nothing more sickening than the pressure of water on a bleeding wound. He laid his head on his arm and the world went round a great deal too fast. But it seemed impossible to get one’s hand out of the water that hurt so. ”

“ He set his teeth and tried to raise the pin with his other hand. He might as well have tried to raise Mont Blanc. The girl in the boat below could see nothing. To her it was simply a clumsy man who had said damn because he dropped his crow-bar, and now instead of asking her for hers was fiddling about with the sluice. She wasn’t going to offer it. She wasn’t going to do anything to help a person who went about saying damn at every little thing. ”