midday
Flying fish , the butterflies of the sea , came up , flitted along for a distance , and then sank again into the depths . Strange beings of fantastic shapes and indescribable colors , some gayly striped like tigers , others in mournful black , some huge and chubby , others small and wiry , some with cavernous mouths and tiny bellies , others with enormous bodies and ridiculous little snouts , swarmed around the old boat , as though the _ Garbosa _ were one of those mythological craft that used to lead processionals of marine divinities . Tonet and the two sailors were taking advantage of the calm to fish with hand lines . The `` cat '' was busy forward with the midday meal . The Rector was pacing the narrow deck astern , scanning the horizon and swearing for wind . The _ Garbosa _ was eating her way slowly along , but to all appearances she might have been nailed to the surface of that placid sea . Now , in the distance , a schooner was visible , caught in the calm , her sails sagging , east-bound , for Malta or Suez , probably .