I give the order:
"Master-gunners and loaders, call the watch!"[5]
Then, some of those who were sleeping on the deck, like white mummies, get up and awaken some of the others; they move off in a group and go below. And then, from the spar-deck, comes the sound of twenty voices, singing one after the other—in the manner of glee-singing—a very ancient air, at once joyous and mocking.
They sing:
"Have you heard, you larboard men, get up for the watch, get up, get up, get up! . . . Have you heard, you larboard men, get up for the watch, get up, get up, get up! . . ."
They move hither and thither, stooping under the suspended hammocks, and, as they pass, shake the sleepers with thrusts of their powerful shoulders.
And presently, inexorable, I give the order:
"Fall in on deck, the larboard watch!"
And they come up half-naked; there are some who yawn, others who stretch themselves, who stumble. They line up in groups, while a man, with a lantern, peers into their faces and counts them. The others who were sleeping on deck go below and sleep in their place.
Yves has come up with the men of the larboard watch who have just been awakened. I recognize at once his way of whistling which I had not heard now for a year. And presently I recognize his voice which rings out in command for the first time on the deck of the Primauguet.