Seven Skirts and Silver Fish

On the third day Polly did not fly down to the town. She rode the funicular, a little train that climbs the cliff on rails. It is more than one hundred and thirty years old. Polly sat on the rail inside the carriage and watched the red roofs go by.

The town beach was full of low wooden racks. On the racks, under thin nets, lay hundreds of small silver fish, drying in the sun. This is an old tradition in Nazaré. Long ago there were no refrigerators. The sun and the wind kept the fish good to eat. The town never stopped doing it.

Gull ladies in bright layered skirts turned the fish with care. Each lady wore seven skirts, one on top of another. Some say the skirts stand for the seven days of the week. Others say they stand for seven waves. The oldest gull only laughed.

In the evening Polly rode back up to her red lantern. She looked at the sea for a long time. The wave lines were taller than yesterday. And now she could hear them.