After another hour, when all the packages and commissions had been
attended to and we had waited for several passengers who were to come,
we finally left the inn and went aboard. At first there was nothing but
a confused mass of people and luggage, oars that caused us to stumble,
sails that dropped on our heads, men falling over each other and not
knowing where to go; then everything quieted down, each one found his
nook, the luggage was put in the bottom of the boat, the sailors got on
the benches, and the passengers seated themselves as best they could.
There was no breeze and the sails clung limply to the masts. The heavy
boat hardly moved over the almost motionless sea, which swelled and
subsided with the gentle rhythm of a sleeping breast.
Leaning against one of the gunwales, we gazed at the water, which was as
blue and calm as the sky, and listened to the splashing of the oars;
sitting in the shadow of the sail, the six rowers lifted their oars
regularly to make the forward stroke, and when they dipped them into the
water and brought them up again, drops of crystal clung to their
paddles. Reclining on the straw, or sitting on the benches, with their
legs dangling and their chins in their hands, or leaning against the
sides of the boat, between the big jambs of the hull, the tar of which
was melting in the heat, the silent passengers hung their heads and
closed their eyes to shut out the glare of the sun, that shone on the
flat ocean as on a mirror.
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