One morning, going on three o'clock, while all were dreaming quietlyunder their winding-sheet of fog, they heard something like a clamourof voices--voices whose tones seemed strange and unfamiliar. Those ondeck looked at each other questioningly.
"Who's that talking?"Nobody. Nobody had said anything. For that matter, the sounds hadseemed to come from the outer void. Then the man who had charge of thefog-horn, but had been neglecting his duty since overnight, rushed forit, and inflating his lungs to their utmost, sounded with all hismight the long bellow of alarm. It was enough to make a man of ironstart, in such a silence.
As if a spectre had been evoked by that thrilling, though deep-tonedroar, a huge unforeseen gray form suddenly arose very loftily andtowered threateningly right beside them; masts, spars, rigging, alllike a ship that had taken sudden shape in the air instantly, just asa single beam of electric light evokes phantasmagoria on the screen ofa magic lantern.
Men appeared, almost close enough to touch them, leaning over thebulwarks, staring at them with eyes distended in the awakening ofsurprise and dread.
The /Marie's/ men rushed for oars, spars, boat-hooks, anything theycould lay their hands on for fenders, and held them out to shove offthat grisly thing and its impending visitors. Lo! these others,terrified also, put out large beams to repel them likewise.
But there came only a very faint creaking in the topmasts, as bothstanding gears momentarily entangled became disentangled without theleast damage; the shock, very gentle in such a calm had been almostwholly deadened; indeed, it was so feeble that it really seemed as ifthe other ship had no substance, that it was a mere pulp, almostwithout weight.
When the fright was over, the men began to laugh; they had recognisedeach other.
"/La Marie/, ahoy! how are ye, lads?""Halloa! Gaos, Laumec, Guermeur!"The spectre ship was the /Reine-Berthe/, also of Paimpol, and so thesailors were from neighbouring villages; that thick, tall fellow withthe huge, black beard, showing his teeth when he laughed, wasKerjegou, one of the Ploudaniel boys, the others were from Plounes orPlounerin.
"Why didn't you blow your fog-horn, and be blowed to you, you herd ofsavages?" challenged Larvoer of the /Reine-Berthe/.
"If it comes to that, why didn't you blow yours, you crew of pirates--you rank mess of toad-fish?""Oh, no! with us, d'ye see, the sea-law differs. /We're forbidden tomake any noise!/"He made this reply with the air of giving a dark hint, and a queersmile, which afterward came back to the memory of the men of the/Marie/, and caused them a great deal of thinking. Then, as if hethought he had said too much, he concluded with a joke:
"Our fog-horn, d'ye see, was burst by this rogue here a-blowing toohard into it." He pointed to a sailor with a face like a Triton, a manall bull-neck and chest, extravagantly broad-shouldered, low-set uponhis legs, with something unspeakably grotesque and unpleasant in thedeformity of strength.
While they were looking at each other, waiting for breeze orundercurrent to move one vessel faster than the other and separatethem, a general palaver began. Leaning over the side, but holding eachother off at a respectable distance with their long wooden props, likebesieged pikemen repelling an assault, they began to chat about home,the last letters received, and sweethearts and wives.
"I say! my old woman," said Kerjegou, "tells me she's had the littleboy we were looking for; that makes half-score-two now!"Another had found himself the father of twins; and a third announcedthe marriage of pretty Jenny Ca............