Episode 9: Boarding

1925: Ella Maillart’s Logbook, June 27, 1925

It’s been about a week since Yvonne left Assisi to join me in the third-class carriage that dropped us off in Marseille one morning with a gentle mistral blowing. We traveled fairly well, even though in the carriage some Italians sang all night about an Ella who had her hair cut... and to silence them, all we could do was offer them our cigarettes.

At 5 a.m., the Old Port looks just like I remember it, and I recognize the two caretakers of the dock, which makes me feel as though I had lived there just yesterday, aboard Perlette. But it’s no longer about Perlette now—it’s about the yawl Bonita. She’s at the end of the third dock, and I run to her, whistling our tune from Creux-de-Genthod.

Bonita is white, with a straight bow, high freeboard, bare spars, and a noble disorder reigning on the deck and white cabin roof—noble because it bears witness to a hurried outfitting and heralds a serious expedition-cruise. But then a little whistle is heard, and the captain’s head appears: short hair and blinking eyes, even half-awake they haven’t changed. And the pajama pants sticking out from under the hastily thrown-on dress immediately impose the reality of a free life, unlike any other.

— “You see, everything smells of cinnamon here, but go ahead and load the stuff via the dinghy—it’s touchy, be careful!”

I go fetch my sailor’s bag full of marine clothes and a suitcase of books and nautical charts. While loading them into this devilishly unstable dinghy, I make sure that Our Lady still watches from above and that the new sun illuminates the hand of the infant Jesus. Can it be that I’m finally floating on the bustling Old Port, after dreaming of it as an oriental fairy tale amid England’s fogs? Yes, reality hits hard, because there’s hardly room to set foot on the yellow-painted deck or in the cabin, so overloaded are the table and benches.

— “Hi Kini!” calls out Miette. “Why is it that you’re only arriving now when I’ve been waiting for you for a week?”

— “A week? How’s that? Because eight days ago I received your telegram saying I didn’t need to come before Sunday…”

— “But it was the previous Sunday I meant… We’ll never leave if I have to both supervise the workers and do all the shopping myself!”

It’s true—we’re going to set off!

When will I finally realize that we’re weighing anchor for Sicily and Greece? And here they are, our old nautical charts of Corsica, which I grabbed in Paris between two trains, rushing southward!

Yes, now we must raise anchor as soon as possible if we want to carry out our plans and arrive in Greece in time for the archaeological excavations that Marthe Oulié is to lead in Crete at the beginning of September...

This excerpt is a transcription by Carinne Bertola from the logbook of the yawl Bonita, dated July 1925, archived under Ms fr-7106/3 at the Bibliothèque de Genève.

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2025

Here we are, under the benevolent gaze and protection of our Bonne Mère (with the accent).

Port of Marseille – Under the protection of Our Lady of the Guard. (Note: “Notre-Dame de la Garde” is the famous basilica overlooking Marseille, often called “the Good Mother” by locals.)

After a nearly spotless 4-hour train ride from Geneva (unfortunately without any Italians and sometimes without a seat), bam—the adventure begins.

The sky is pitch black and the wind is picking up. The boats are starting to rock in the harbor. The fenders are creaking. The storm is coming, which, to our great relief, cancels tonight’s OM-PSG match (the OM bar is located in the port). Batten down the hatches!

With the weather challenges combining with technical ones, our departure has been delayed by a day.

We’re keeping our spirits up and sticking together to overcome them.

We crisscross the Old Port in a “workboat” day and night, through rain and storms, to transport our provisions and luggage.