expression.

Huddled against one another, for want of space, they seemed to feel
downright comfort, snugly packed in their dark home.

Outside spread the ocean and night--the infinite solitude of dark
fathomless waters. A brass watch, hung on the wall, pointed to eleven
o'clock--doubtless eleven at night--and upon the deck pattered the
drizzling rain.

Among themselves, they treated these questions of marriage very merrily;
but without saying anything indecent. No, indeed, they only sketched
plans for those who were still bachelors, or related funny stories
happening at home at wedding-feasts. Sometimes with a happy laugh they
made some rather too free remarks about the fun in love-making. But
love-making, as these men understand it, is always a healthy sensation,
and for all its coarseness remains tolerably chaste.

But Sylvestre was worried, because a mate called Jean (which Bretons
pronounce "Yann") did not come down below. Where could Yann be, by the
way? was he lashed to his work on deck? Why did he not come below to
take his share in their feast?

"It's close on midnight, hows'ever," observed the captain; and drawing
himself up he raised the scuttle with his head, so as to call Yann that
way.

Then a weird glimmer fell from above.

"Yann! Yann! Look alive, matey!"

"Matey" answered roughly from outside while through the half-opened
hatchway the faint light kept entering like that of dawn. Nearly
midnight, yet it looked like a peep of day, or the light of the starry
gloaming, sent from afar through mystic lenses of magicians.

When the aperture closed, night reigned again, save for the small lamp,
"sended" now and again aside, which shed its yellow light. A man in
clogs was heard coming down the wooden steps.

He entered bent in two like a big bear, for he was a giant. At first
he made a wry face, holding his nose, because of the acrid smell of the
souse.

He exceeded a little too much the ordinary proportions of man,
especially in breadth, though he was straight as a poplar. When he faced
you the muscles of his shoulders, moulded under his blue jersey, stood
out like great globes at the tops of his arms. His large brown eyes were
very mobile, with a grand, wild expression.

Sylvestre threw his arms round Yann, and drew him towards him tenderly,
after the fashion of children. Sylvestre was betrothed to Yann's sister,
and he treated him as an elder brother, of course. And Yann allowed
himself to be p