The ship lay quite still on a perfect sea of moonlight, bordered by a
low flat distant shore on one side, and nearer mountains on the other. A
strong flare, centred from two ship reflectors overside, made a focus of
illumination that subdued, but could not quench, the soft moonlight with
which all outside was silvered. A dozen boats, striving against a
current or clinging as best they could to the ship's side, glided into
the light and became real and solid; or dropped back into the ghostly
white unsubstantiality of the moon. They were long, narrow boats, with
small flush decks fore and aft. We looked down on them from almost
directly above, so that we saw the thwarts and the ribs and the things
they contained.
Astern in each stood men, bending gracefully against the thrust of long
sweeps. About their waists were squares of cloth, wrapped twice and
tucked in. Otherwise they were naked, and the long smooth muscles of
their slender bodies rippled under the skin. The latter was of a
beautiful fine texture, and chocolate brown. These men had keen,
intelligent, clear-cut faces, of the Greek order, as though the statues
of a garden had been stained brown and had come to life. They leaned on
their sweeps, thrusting slowly but strongly against the little wind and
current that would drift them back.
In the body of the boats crouched, sat, or lay a picturesque mob. Some
pulled spasmodically on the very long limber oars; others squatted doing
nothing; some, huddled shapelessly underneath white cloths that
completely covered them, slept soundly in the bottom.
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