THE FISH OF BOUILLABAISSE 



of calm when the land breeze fell, but soon the sea 

 breeze came up in its turn and rapidly freshened. 

 Blowing in the opposite direction, salt-laden, brisk, 

 it brought us the healthy smell of the sea and the fresh- 

 ness of the open waters. We left our shelter, set sail 

 again and made for the fishing ground over the grass- 

 wrack field; then cast our " gangui ", gave out rope 

 until the net was exactly spread over the bottom and, 

 with the wind behind us, began to trawl. 



According to the weather and the place, we would 

 trawl for an hour or two. While this was going on, 

 and in order to get the best possible results, Armand 

 used to try all sorts of different manoeuvres. He 

 would watch the coast and take bearings so as to 

 know the course the net was taking, and avoid 

 catching on wreckage or rocks he knew. He would 

 change the set of the sail so as to keep the boat on 

 the proper course, as it drifted before the wind. He 

 would pull on the rope attached to the net to judge 

 whether it was dragging along the bottom, or if it 

 had been lifted above it. He and his sailor dashed 

 about the boat from bow to stern. He had an eye 

 for everything, and kept a look out for the elements, 

 wind, sky, and sea. Occasionally, he would call me 

 to show how the resistance of the net tightened the 

 rope attached to it. Then he would curse the wind 

 because it was not strong enough for his liking and 

 reproach it for not blowing hard enough to put out 

 a candle. His eyes, his lips, his hands, were never 

 quiet. 



Then it was time to stop trawling. We clewed up 

 the sail and pulled up the net, a little at a time. Since 

 the load was heavy, this was no easy task, and we all 

 took a hand. 



The different parts of the tackle appeared one by 



one, first the cables, then the rod, which we detached, 



the two wings, and, finally, the net itself. As it came 



up, Armand, leaning over the side, shook the meshes, 



62 



