By midmorning the waterfront had a quiet queue of pebbles, each holding a ticket no bigger than a fingernail. The pelicans waited until every stone had said hello to the water.
We asked at the kiosk by the railing. A man with a paper cup of tea said his pebble came back from the nearest lamp a little drier and a little prouder. They never skip the nod to the boat, he told us. That is the whole timetable.
The harbor keeper pinned a note to the post: rides last as far as the lamp, return trips are free, and nobody is to hurry a pouch while it is still counting.