Read, notice and explain

At dawn the harbour seemed to be holding its breath. Ropes creaked against the posts, and a single light trembled on the dark water. My uncle stood beside the boat with the patient expression he wore whenever I asked whether we were ready. I had imagined departure as a shout and a sudden rush. Instead, he checked a knot, checked it again and placed my bag where it would stay dry. Beyond the harbour wall, the sky was slowly losing its colourless edge. "Now," he said, almost quietly enough for the water to swallow the word. We moved out between the posts. The shore did not vanish; it loosened its hold a little at a time.