In a few moments the suspense is over, the girl points to the
shore, where they can hear the distant sound of a cheer, and see people
waving their handkerchiefs.
'They think the tide has turned,' says the girl, 'and they are shouting
to cheer us.'
She was right, the tide had turned. Another wave came and wetted their
feet, but when it had passed the water had fallen, and in five minutes
the platform was again dry!
The fisherwomen of Granville are famed for their beauty, industry, and
courage; we, certainly, have not seen such eyes, excepting at Cadiz,
and never have we seen so many active hard-working old women. The women
seem to do everything here--the 'boatmen' are women, and the fishermen
young girls.
We may well admire some of these handsome Granvillaises, living their
free life by the sea, earning less in the day, generally, than our
Staffordshire pit girls, but living much more enviable lives. Here they
are by hundreds, scattered over the beach in the early morning, and
afterwards crowding into the market-place; driving hard bargains for the
produce of their sea-farms, and--with rather shrill and unpronounceable
ejaculations and many most winning smiles--handing over their shining
wares. It is all for the Paris market they will tell you, and they may
also tell you (if you win their confidence) that they, too, are one day
for Paris.
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