As the boats lie at the landing, sails come down and the delicate brown and blue nets go up for drying, for not all of the boats have so great a supply that they can shift to another set. The most curious effect is given by these blue and brown nets swinging masthead high, as if they were spider-web sails.
The picturesqueness of the Concarneau fishing-boats is undeniable. Nothing like them exists elsewhere, and when the sardine boats set out for the west, as the sun goes down, there are as wonderful combinations of golden yellow-browns, reds, and purples as the most imaginative painter could possibly conjure on his canvas.
On shore, the nets, spread for drying on the wharfs and on the racks beside the little fisherman’s chapel and the great stone crucifix which faces seawards, are of the deepest blues and purple-browns in a bewitching mixture.
Not a white-sailed boat is to be seen, unless it is an occasional yacht drifting in because its owner has tired of making the fashionable harbours where his guests can spend the night on shore dancing to the questionable music of a red or blue coated band.
Stone Crucifix, Concarneau
It is a question as to whether Concarneau, were it not the centre of the sardine fishery, might not be the first seaside resort of the world. As it is, there are not a few who evidently think it far preferable to those pseudo-society watering-places, whose chief attractions are big casinos and little horses.