In and Out of Three Normandy Inns | Page 3

nod and bob and wave down
the cracked-voiced "bonjours." But the audience that had gathered to
witness the closing of the bargain had melted away with the moment of
its conclusion. Long ere this moment of our embarkation the wide stone
street facing the water had become suddenly deserted. The
curious-eyed heads and the cotton nightcaps had been swallowed up in
the hollows of the dark, little windows. The baker's boy had long since
mounted his broad basket, as if it were an ornamental head-dress, and
whistling, had turned a sharp corner, swallowed up, he also, by the
sudden gloom that lay between the narrow streets. The sloop-owners
had linked arms with the defeated captains, and were walking off
toward their respective boats, whistling a gay little air.
"_Colinette au bois s'en alla En sautillant par-ci, par-là; Trala deridera,
trala, derid-er-a-a._"
One jersey-clad figure was singing lustily as he dropped with a spring
into his boat. He began to coil the loose ropes at once, as if the
disappointments in life were only a necessary interruption, to be
accepted philosophically, to this, the serious business of his days.
We were soon afloat, far out from the land of either shores. Between
the two, sea and river meet; is the river really trying to lose itself in the
sea, or is it hopelessly attempting to swallow the sea? The green line
that divides them will never give you the answer: it changes hour by
hour, day by day; now it is like a knife-cut, deep and straight; and now
like a ribbon that wavers and flutters, tying together the blue of the
great ocean and the silver of the Seine. Close to the lips of the mighty
mouth lie the two shores. In that fresh May sunshine Havre glittered
and bristled, was aglow with a thousand tints and tones; but we sailed
and sailed away from her, and behold, already she had melted into her
cliffs. Opposite, nearing with every dip of the dun-colored sail into the
blue seas, was the Calvados coast; in its turn it glistened, and in its
young spring verdure it had the lustre of a rough-hewn emerald.

"_Que voulez-vous, mesdames?_ Who could have told that the wind
would play us such a trick?"
The voice was the voice of our captain. With much affluence of gesture
he was explaining--his treachery! Our nearness to the coast had made
the confession necessary. To the blandness of his smile, as he
proceeded in his unabashed recital, succeeded a pained expression. We
were not accepting the situation with the true phlegm of philosophers;
he felt that he had just cause for protest. What possible difference could
it make to us whether we were landed at Trouville or at Villerville? But
to him--to be accused of betraying two ladies--to allow the whole of the
Havre quays to behold in him a man disgraced, dishonored!
His was a tragic figure as he stood up, erect on the poop, to clap hands
to a blue-clad breast, and to toss a black mane of hair in the golden air.
"_Dame! Toujours été galant homme, moi!_ I am known on both
shores as the most gallant of men. But the most gallant of men cannot
control the caprice of the wind!" To which was added much abuse of
the muddy bottoms, the strength of the undertow, and other marine
disadvantages peculiar to Villerville.
It was a tragic figure, with gestures and voice to match. But it was
evident that the Captain had taken his own measure mistakenly. In him
the French stage had lost a comedian of the first magnitude. Much,
therefore, we felt, was to be condoned in one who doubtless felt so
great a talent itching for expression. When next he smiled, we had
revived to a keener appreciation of baffled genius ever on the scent for
the capture of that fickle goddess, opportunity.
The captain's smile was oiling a further word of explanation. "See,
mesdames, they come! they will soon land you on the beach!"
He was pointing to a boat smaller than our own, that now ran alongside.
There had been frequent signallings between the two boats, a running
up and down of a small yellow flag which we had thought amazingly
becoming to the marine landscape, until we learned the true relation of
the flag to the treachery aboard our own craft.

"You see, mesdames," smoothly continued our talented traitor, "you see
how the waves run up on the beach. We could never, with this great sail,
run in there. We should capsize. But behold, these are bathers,
accustomed to the water--they will carry you--but as if you were
feathers!" And he pointed to the four outstretched, firmly-muscled arms,
as if to warrant their powers of endurance. The two men had left