I was warned, by my good landlord of the inn, that such a voyage would be fraught with untold hardships and danger.
“And in what way?” I asked.
“Ah! monsieur, there are the locks, and, when the wind blows, the river gets very rough. Monsieur should take a brave and strong marin with him to make such a journey.”
“Have you ever been down the Seine?”
“Only once, monsieur, on a canal-boat with my brother-in-law to Mantes, where he became cook to a famous hostelry. It was he who came yesterday and made the sauce to the sole you have just eaten.”
I bowed my compliments. If his seamanship was as good as his cooking, the brother-in-law could have commanded a man-of-war.
In the matter of finding a suitable boat I experienced some difficulty. There were many to be had, painted sky-blue or apple-green, and bearing romantic names like Juliette or Gabrielle, but their sea-going qualities were none of the best, and moreover most of them leaked badly. They might have done for half-an-hour’s belle promenade with Marcelle or Céleste, but I doubted their worthiness for the perilous adventure from which my friend the innkeeper had tried to dissuade me.
A SEINE TYPE
I was told that at Bougival I would surely find what I desired. My time was getting short and I took the train there to inquire. Visions of light, perfectly appointed canoes filled my mind as I got off at the station. I could almost see them lying by dozens snubbed to dapper wharves ready to be rented. The river flashed in the warm sun and swung under cool archways. The people whom I passed on my way through the village looked nautical enough. I stopped the likeliest looking one as I crossed the bridge, a bronzed, thick-set man wearing a sailor’s cap.