AN ICELAND FISHERMAN [70]
her, and touching, with their eyes big with tears; others were thoughtless and lively; these had no heart or were not in love. Old women, threatened nearly by death, wept as they clung to their sons; sweethearts kissed each other; half-maudlin sailors sang to cheer themselves up, while others went on board with gloomy looks as to their execution.
Many sad incidents could be marked; there were poor luckless fellows who had signed their contracts unconsciously, when in liquor in the grog-shop, and they had to be dragged on board by force; their own wives helping the gendarmes. Others, noted for their great strength, had been drugged in drink beforehand, and were carried like corpses on stretchers, and flung down in the forecastles.
Gaud was frightened by all this; what companions were these for her Yann? and what a fearful thing was this Iceland, to inspire men with such terror of it?
Yet there were sailors who smiled, and were happy; who, doubtless, like Yann, loved the untrammelled life and hard fishing work; those were the sound, able seamen, who had fine noble countenances; if they were unmarried they went off recklessly, merely casting a last look on the lasses; and if they were married, they kissed their wives and little ones, with fervent sadness and deep hopefulness as to returning home all the richer.
Gaud was a little comforted when she saw that all the /Leopoldines/ were of the latter class, forming really a picked crew.
The vessels set off two by two, or four by four, drawn out by the tugs. As soon as they moved the sailors raised their caps and, full- voiced, struck up the hymn to the Virgin: "/Salut, Etoile-de-la-Mer/!" (All Hail! Star of the Sea!), while on the quay, the women waved their hands for a last farewell, and tears fell upon the lace strings of the caps.
As soon as the /Leopoldine/ started, Gaud quickly set off towards the house of the Gaoses. After an hour and a half's walk along the coast, through the familiar paths of Ploubazlanec, she arrived there, at the very land's end, within the home of her new family.
The /Leopoldine/ was to cast anchor off Pors-Even before starting definitely in the evening, so the married pair had made a last appointment here. Yann came to land in the yawl, and stayed another three hours with her to bid her good-bye on firm land. The weather was still beautiful and spring-like, and the sky serene.
They walked out on the high road arm-in-arm, and it reminded them of their walk the day before. They strolled on towards Paimpol without any apparent object in view, and soon came to their own house, as if unconsciously drawn there; they entered together for the last time. Grandam Moan was quite amazed at seeing them together again.
Yann left many injunctions with Gaud concerning several of his things in his wardrobe, especially about his fine wedding clothes; she was to take them out occasionally and air them in the sun, and so on. On board ship the sailors learn all these household-like matters; but Gaud was amused to hear it. Her husband might have been sure, though, that all his things would be kept and attended to, with loving care.
But all these matters were very secondary for them; they spoke of them only to have something to talk about, and to hide their real feelings. They went on speaking in low, soft tones, as if fearing to frighten away the moments that remained, and so make time flit by more swiftly still. Their conversation was as a thing that had inexorably to come to an end; and the most insignificant things that they said seemed, on this day, to become wondrous, mysterious, and important.
At the very last moment Yann caught up his wife in his arms, and without saying a word, they were enfolded in a long and silent embrace.
He embarked; the gray sails were unfurled and spread out to the light wind that rose from the west. He, whom she still could distinguish, waved his cap in a particular way agreed on between them. And with her figure outlined against the sea, she gazed for a long, long time upon her departing love.
That
Many sad incidents could be marked; there were poor luckless fellows who had signed their contracts unconsciously, when in liquor in the grog-shop, and they had to be dragged on board by force; their own wives helping the gendarmes. Others, noted for their great strength, had been drugged in drink beforehand, and were carried like corpses on stretchers, and flung down in the forecastles.
Gaud was frightened by all this; what companions were these for her Yann? and what a fearful thing was this Iceland, to inspire men with such terror of it?
Yet there were sailors who smiled, and were happy; who, doubtless, like Yann, loved the untrammelled life and hard fishing work; those were the sound, able seamen, who had fine noble countenances; if they were unmarried they went off recklessly, merely casting a last look on the lasses; and if they were married, they kissed their wives and little ones, with fervent sadness and deep hopefulness as to returning home all the richer.
Gaud was a little comforted when she saw that all the /Leopoldines/ were of the latter class, forming really a picked crew.
The vessels set off two by two, or four by four, drawn out by the tugs. As soon as they moved the sailors raised their caps and, full- voiced, struck up the hymn to the Virgin: "/Salut, Etoile-de-la-Mer/!" (All Hail! Star of the Sea!), while on the quay, the women waved their hands for a last farewell, and tears fell upon the lace strings of the caps.
As soon as the /Leopoldine/ started, Gaud quickly set off towards the house of the Gaoses. After an hour and a half's walk along the coast, through the familiar paths of Ploubazlanec, she arrived there, at the very land's end, within the home of her new family.
The /Leopoldine/ was to cast anchor off Pors-Even before starting definitely in the evening, so the married pair had made a last appointment here. Yann came to land in the yawl, and stayed another three hours with her to bid her good-bye on firm land. The weather was still beautiful and spring-like, and the sky serene.
They walked out on the high road arm-in-arm, and it reminded them of their walk the day before. They strolled on towards Paimpol without any apparent object in view, and soon came to their own house, as if unconsciously drawn there; they entered together for the last time. Grandam Moan was quite amazed at seeing them together again.
Yann left many injunctions with Gaud concerning several of his things in his wardrobe, especially about his fine wedding clothes; she was to take them out occasionally and air them in the sun, and so on. On board ship the sailors learn all these household-like matters; but Gaud was amused to hear it. Her husband might have been sure, though, that all his things would be kept and attended to, with loving care.
But all these matters were very secondary for them; they spoke of them only to have something to talk about, and to hide their real feelings. They went on speaking in low, soft tones, as if fearing to frighten away the moments that remained, and so make time flit by more swiftly still. Their conversation was as a thing that had inexorably to come to an end; and the most insignificant things that they said seemed, on this day, to become wondrous, mysterious, and important.
At the very last moment Yann caught up his wife in his arms, and without saying a word, they were enfolded in a long and silent embrace.
He embarked; the gray sails were unfurled and spread out to the light wind that rose from the west. He, whom she still could distinguish, waved his cap in a particular way agreed on between them. And with her figure outlined against the sea, she gazed for a long, long time upon her departing love.
That