r faces were streaming, and their soaked
tunics steaming, as if in the wash. In the depths of winter, these
unfortunate souls spent whole days like this, crouching on their
drenched seats, shivering in the unhealthy wet and cold, even at
nights. Obviously, a fire couldn't be lit on board, and it was often
difficult to make the shore.... Well, not one of these men complained.
I always saw the same calmness and good humour in them, even in the
most severe weather. And yet, what a gloomy life these customs'
mariners led.

They were months away from going home, tacking and reaching around
those dangerous coasts. For nourishment they had to make do mainly with
mouldy bread and wild onions; they never once tasted wine or meat;
these were expensive items and they only earned five hundred francs a
year. Yes, five hundred francs a year. But it didn't seem to bother
them! Everybody there seemed somehow content. Aft of the deckhouse,
there was a tub full of rain water for the crew to drink, and I recall
that after the final gulp went down, every last one of them would
finish off his mug with a satisfied, "Ah!..."; a comic yet endearing
indication of all being well with him.

Palombo, a small, tanned, thick-set man from Bonifacio was the
merriest, and the most well at ease of all of them. He was always
singing, even in the very worst weather. When the seas were high, when
the sky was overcast, dark, and hail filled, everyone was all agog,
sniffing the air, their hands cupped over their ears, listening and
watching out for the next squall. Even in this great silence of anxiety
on board, the voice of Palombo would begin the refrain:

No, dear Sir,
It will cause a stir.
Wise Lisette will stay,
And never ever go away....

And the gust could blow, rattle the tackle, shake and flood the boat,
still the customs' man's song continued, rocking like a seagull on the
crests of the waves. Sometimes the wind's accompaniment was too loud,
and the words were drowned, but between each breaking wave, in the
cascade of draining water, the little ditty was heard once again:

Wise Lisette will stay,
And never ever go away

One day, when it was blowing and raining hard, I didn't hear him. This
was so unusual, that I was moved to emerge through the boathouse hatch
and shout:

--Hey! Palombo, you're not singing, then?

Palombo didn't reply. He was lying apparently motionless under his
bench. I went up to him; his teeth were chattering