Our flagship at anchor, somewhere off the Ligurian coast — sixty metres of quiet conviction, lying still while the hills above her go dark.
We do not build boats. We compose instruments of distance — vessels tuned to the horizon, where the noise of the world falls away and only the sea remains.
Portofino — 44.3°N
A floating villa of oiled teak and travertine — our flagship, drawn for those who measure luxury in silence and sea-miles.
Îles de Lérins — 43.5°N
A timeless tri-deck in the Riviera tradition — sun-washed and unhurried, equally at home from Portofino to the Aeolian Islands.
Bonifacio — 41.4°N
An ocean-crossing explorer — the range to chase winter to far latitudes, the composure to make the passage the destination.
“The world keeps a private calendar of perfect days — we know where they fall, and sail you quietly into them.”
Édouard Marchand — Founder
A Quiet Fleet voyage is orchestrated, never managed. Your captain has crossed the Atlantic more times than he can recall; your chef trained in kitchens you would need a year’s notice to enter.
From the first tender at dawn to the last course under the stars, everything arrives a moment before you think to ask for it — and disappears the moment after.
The Master — off Capri
