"Shall we take the dingy on deck," asked Bernard.
"No, you will see it will be quite fine. Let it tow astern as usual."
A quarter of an hour later, we had quitted the harbour, and were running through the entrance of the gulf, to a light and intermittent breeze.
I laughed.
"Well you see, the weather is good enough."
Soon, we had passed the black and white tower built upon the Rabiou shoal, and although sheltered by Cape Camarat which runs far out into the open sea, and of which the flashing light appeared from minute to minute, the Bel-Ami was already lifted forwards by long powerful slow waves; those hills of water which move on, one behind the other, without noise, without shock, without foam, menacing without fury, alarming in their very tranquillity.
One saw nothing, one only felt the ascent and descent of the yacht over the dark and silently moving waters.
Bernard said:
"There has been a gale out at sea to-night, sir; we shall be lucky if we get in without accident."
The day broke brightly over the wild crowding waves, and we all three looked anxiously seawards to see if the squall were returning.