Row, row, row
After the first dinner on board, when boredom had yet to settle in and the passengers barely knew one another — saying hello solely out of politeness, and thus a long way from any foreseeable future outpourings of friendship — Bopp went on deck. With his elbows resting on the railing in front of the lounger where Opalka was taking a nap, he peered over his shoulder at the horizon and quietly hummed:
Row, row, row your boat,
Gently down the stream,
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,
Life is but a dream.
After the first dinner on board, when boredom had yet to settle in and the passengers barely knew one another — saying hello solely out of politeness, and thus a long way from any foreseeable future outpourings of friendship — Bopp went on deck.
He repeated the song twice and stopped. Turning around to face the sea, he began to whistle the melody. A short, well-built woman who was seated to Opalka’s left, two loungers down, began to sing along in a marked Spanish accent:
Row, row, row your boat,
Gently down the stream,
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,
Life is but a dream.
One gentlemen who was standing leaning against the railing some ten meters from Bopp, soon joined the choir. His wife, a tall, stunningly beautiful woman whose hand he was holding, followed suit. Excited, Bopp turned back to face them and began to sing again. Not long after, the girls keeping the well-built woman company — much too young to be her daughters and too old to be her granddaughters — joined in, giggling. The singing awakened Opalka. A tall, thin man in his forties, with a chiseled face and disheveled hair, approached the singing group. His companion, a blond man of the same height, but more portly and with a frightened look in his eyes, was not far behind. Only Opalka remained silent, but a near-smile crept across his face. Bopp conducted the singers like a real maestro. He wanted to create a medley of voices, the way children did when they sang the tune. When they reached the second verse, the girls started again from the top, while the well-built woman went on ahead. As the girls sang the second verse, the couple leaning against the railing began the song. The well-built woman was already singing the fourth and final verse by the time the tall men entered the chorus. And so they continued, voices intermingled, until, as always happens with this game, without anyone realizing, they were all singing the same part.
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,
Life is but a dream.
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