The Moco, after his exclamation of surprise, had fallen back in his old position, and the two men smoked without interchanging a word.
They would go like this for a long time without speaking a word. One might have fancied them enemies, or at least put out at one another; not at all. They were simply sharing the tremendous taciturnity of their species. All who help in the labor of the sea share in its weariness, Vasta Silentio, the motto, is written on the waves.
Hi! Hi! Hi!
The breeze had freshened a bit, giving life and energy to the calling of the gulls; the Moco, his pipe out, pushed his cap back from his eyes and sat up.
“See here,” said Yves, “you know over there where I fetched these things from—well—over there I’ve found something.”
CHAPTER II
A SECRET OF THE SEA
“Eh bien?”
The big Yves laughed in his beard and dug his naked toes into the hot white sand luxuriously. Gaspard was shod, for he had turned in all standing just before the disaster to the ship; but Yves, more particular or less tired, had kicked his shoes off.