“
Here, look to starboard.
» On the surface of a sea of oil, light undulations appear in the distance, coppered by the first rays of the sun.
Suddenly, the fin of a mammal springs in the binoculars held by Cécile.
"
It's a little dolphin, he's come to say hello to us
", slips the sailor, one eye on the helm angle and the compass, the other on the fascinating spectacle of nature.
At the time of the milkman,
Belem
progresses in slow motion, somewhere between France and England.
On the mainmast and foremast, main and lesser topsails are struggling to inflate, as if sleepy.
The calm as well as striking shades of blue invite contemplation at the end of the night shift in the Channel.
“
The tide has turned.
You will have to maneuver the sails
”, announces the captain to the sixteen trainees present on board.
Coffee and sandwiches swallowed, the latter are busy on deck, ready to haul down – lower the sails – and stir the main yard
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