chapter 1
Giorgio Relli was born in Trieste towards the end of the war, in 1944. As soon as he was born, his mother with him in her arms together with the midwife and other staff of the clinic, they had to flee to the air"raid shelter below. These escapes to shelters often occurred due to frequent bombing. His father was in the Civic Guard and often it was he who carried him to the shelter with the full cradle, together with his mother and maternal grandmother. The maternal grandfather, on the other hand, never wanted to enter the shelters and disappeared who knows where until the sirens ceased.
His father disappeared in the first months of 1945, when Giorgio was four months old, slaughtered by the Tito partisans during a patrolling. He was not a fascist but, a member of the Civic Guard which was a corp depending on the fascist Mayor of Trieste, could not fail to be, for the ferocious Tito partisans. Giorgio grew up with his mother and grandmother and the only male figure in the family was his maternal grandfather.
Trieste of that time, after the war, became the Free Territory of Trieste, a small semi"independent state controlled by the Allied Anglo"American military authorities. After elementary school, Giorgio moved to Udine with his mother who had remarried and after attending high school he did not have clear ideas about his future but had an innate passion for electronics. He thus enrolled in a technical institute in Udine which had just started an experimental course in electronics with the study program that also extended to the humanities and scientific disciplines. He attended three of the five planned years and then dropped out of school. The stubborn and proud character of him did not allow humiliation on the part of some teacher who dominated the chair, especially if without merit.
Giorgio was basically polite and respectful of everyone, but he could turn into a real monster of vulgarity if he was teased with malice and stung in his perhaps too exaggerated pride. He was very tolerant in nature and always ready to excuse any wrongdoing but only if he did not see intentional malice. In this case he definitively deleted the guilty person from his world and broke off any kind of relationship by completely ignoring him. Physically he was not a colossus however thanks to the sports he practiced, especially swimming and mountaineering, he had developed a musculature, even if not very evident, rather robust. He had a peculiarity, which belonged to the family, a deadly handshake that surprised his companions and friends, even much bigger than him. He didn't come to blows that easily because he knew that if he was forced to do it he would hardly stop.
Abandoning the school he wondered what he wanted to do and considered, among other things, the idea of enlisting in any military corps that included service on the sea, to which he was particularly attracted. By chance, one day, while reading the newspaper, he saw an advertisement from a private school in Trieste that was preparing for the state exam to obtain the radio officer license with which he could embark on merchant ships. He was attracted to the idea of returning to study in Trieste to which, at the time, he was particularly attached and moreover, thanks to this type of work, he could explore the world. He also had an insatiable curiosity that led him to deepen, as a self"taught, some subjects that particularly interested him, physics and mathematics. In Rome he obtained the radio operator's license in 1962 by taking the state exam at the Ministry of Telecommunications. After obtaining the patent, he was waiting for a boarding for a few years.
After turning to various shipping agencies, he had almost lost hope and was considering the idea of working with some firm on shore. He had never obtained, for reasons that are not clear even to himself, the famous "matricola" that is the navigation book that allowed boarding on ships flying the Italian flag, essential in addition to the patent already in his possession. He had already found a not particularly interesting position in a local industry when, a couple of days before starting his new job, he received an unexpected phone call. " Mr. Relli? This is the Calvetti shipping agency in Trieste, are you available? " ." Yes, of course, is it a boarding as a radio operator? " The voice at the other end of the phone was from a young secretary with a cordial and hasty tone that showed efficiency: " You should show up the day after tomorrow at 10 here at the agency if that's okay with you. That "if that's okay" had a tone that did not admit any reply so Giorgio, amazed, intrigued but happy, replied in the affirmative.
For the whole day before the meeting, he concentrated on gathering in his mind all the notions necessary to face the new assignment. He knew the subject well in theory but in practice he lacked a lot as he had never actually boarded a merchant ship for such an important assignment. At the time, no ship could set sail without a radio operator on board and he thought that those of the agency had to be in a tight spot to call someone like him without any experience.
On the fateful day he went to the agency and was immediately received by the director. He later discovered that he was also the owner of the ship. Immediately after the pleasantries and the director's welcome, Giorgio immediately announced: " Sir, I've never been on board, I have a scholastic knowledge of this job but also good will and willingness to learn. " The director was expecting it and with a good natured smile replied: " Do not worry in case of difficulty in receiving, we will send you the most important messages via radiotelephone, you know how to use that right? And he smiled more openly. "Of course," Giorgio replied back, timidly returning the smile. " Well " said the director " you have just enough time to prepare your luggage, the ship is at anchor in the road stead and leaves tomorrow morning at 0600. A few hours before, you will have to get the mooring of the motorboats, near the Bersaglieri pier, where you will find a motor boat that will take you on board. The radio operator who disembarks will hand over your duty. "
Giorgio thought that at 0600 it was not the right time to familiarize himself with instruments he had never seen before but greeted the director thanking him, went out and headed home absorbed in his thoughts. He had longed for that job but the unexpected arrival upset him not a little. However, he decided to go on and concentrated on preparing the luggage and on what could be useful on board.
Knowing nothing about the destination of the ship, he decided to pack summer and winter clothing, there was no need for uniforms but he also added khaki shirts and trousers as he had heard that they were used on board. He also thought of buying the epaulets with the navy rank, as the radio operator has the rank of second mate but would have only the captain as his superior. When in doubt, he discarded the idea so as not to look like a "fanatic". He would eventually get them later if necessary.
At 0400 in the morning, after having slept a few hours and badly, he showed up at the appointed dock with a large suitcase and a leather bag where he had put a couple of elegant clothes in the hope of being able to show them off in some exotic port like a true adventurer like in the movies. It was a cold January morning and a persistent bora ciara1 crept in everywhere, spreading a strong salty smell. This helped to wake him up completely and he felt ready for any challenge. The man from the motor boat, who was waiting for him on the dock, saw him and addressed him with the typical Trieste dialect: " You have to get on the Old Warrior right?"." Yes, I'm the new radio operator " he replied" Ah, you are the new Marco ... mount on board. "
He later discovered that on board, the radio operator, regardless of his first name or surname, was called Marco or Marconi and that it was neither a mocking nor disrespectful term, on the contrary he was respectfully affectionate. The same happened for the captain who in the Julian"Dalmatian navy was called Barba2 with the same intentions. All other officers were usually called with the surname only, but preceded by "Mr.".
In the darkness of the night, the lights of the city could be seen reflected on the sea that was not too rough and the persistent bora ciara, together with the even more intense salty smell, gave it a pleasant feeling of adventure. After a short distance the motorboat approached the side of the ship along which a rather large rigid wooden ladder with a rope handrail had been lowered, illuminated by a large lamp similar to those used for night fishing.
Giorgio went aboard and was received by an elderly man, robust, with a stocky physique, with the appearance of an old fisherman, wrapped in a blue cloth jacket and a wool cap of the same color pulled down to his eyebrows who, with his hands in his pockets greeted him with a " Good morning Mr. Relli, please follow me, the radio operator who has to disembark is waiting for you at the radio station ". The phrase was formulated in a mixture of Trieste and Grado dialects mixed together. Later, Giorgio discovered that this was the chief mate and thought he had done well not to have brought the epaulets with the navy rank.
In the radio station, the radio operator waiting for him was a young man in his middle thirties but had spent several years at sea and was an "expert", one of those who really know everything and make do in any eventuality. It was evident that he was in a great hurry to leave but seeing the "rookie" who was in front of him he took a few more minutes to explain. The equipment was all pre-war of German manufacture and only the radiotelephone was new and of Italian construction.
The far"sighted radio operator had accumulated a considerable stock of spare parts so that one could hope to cope with any troubles even in navigation. He had the courtesy to provide Giorgio, whom he conspicuously appalled, with valuable advice. " It is good that you know that in the main receiving apparatus there are wire impedance that when the ship rolls a lot they touch their aluminum casing. I put some corks underneath to avoid the problem but sometimes they fall with very strong rolls. In that drawer I put a supply of cork under caps if someone goes missing. " He greeted with a handshake and a " Have a nice trip and good luck " and, running down the ladder, got on the motor boat that was waiting for him, disappearing into the darkness.
Giorgio was left alone to familiarize himself with the equipment by exploring the entire radio station and, while he was examining the Nautilus, an emergency transceiver in the shape of an ogive, operating with a crank, he heard a knock on the door and entered directly without waiting for an answer a tall, elderly man with white hair, elegant and martial"looking but with a nice and friendly smile. "Hello, I'm Captain Riccardi, welcome on board. Have you already sailed? " He inquired. In response Giorgio threw him a " Thank you Captain, it's my first embarkation"
"
"Let's hope well then," he replied, walking away with a smile.
After half an hour, while he was trying the telegraph key, he heard the sound of the anchor chain being hoisted by the winch. They were sailing, and he wondered where to. Shortly after, he heard the sound of the engine, a slow succession of thuds that made the whole hull vibrate. The ship began to slide in the dark, on the smooth sea of the gulf. A slight roll began offshore and Giorgio doubted whether he could get seasick but, at the moment, he did not feel any nausea, on the contrary, the slight roll seemed to lull the hull pleasantly. It was still dark when he decided to go up and browse the bridge to see what was going on. He left the radio station that was adjacent to his cabin on the life boats deck and climbed the ladder that led to the bridge wing which led to the bridge. The sliding door had a glass window and beyond it he could see a darkness interrupted only by a weak light coming from the large magnetic compass that illuminated the helm wheel and the helmsman's face. Amazed, he opened the door and entered, glimpsing some standing figures in the darkness, among which he recognized that of the Captain and stupidly asked: " Don't you have any light here? " The answer came disconsolately in the Trieste dialect from Captain Riccardi, who was from Zara: " Doesn't you know that on the bridge one must stay in dark? Oh my God ... Oh my God ... " It was obvious that the bridge had to remain in the dark to allow viewing from the outside. Giorgio stammered something and returned to the radio station with the certainty that he had made a figure that is normally identified with a very vulgar term.3
He was not discouraged and turned on the equipment of the radio station that is turned off near the ports. The ship had gone out offshore by heading south at full speed, at 55 propeller revolutions per minute. That "full speed" today would make one smile because it was equivalent to a speed of about ten miles per hour.
The Old Warrior was a steamship built in Germany in the 1930s, but flying the Panamanian flag. She was about seventy meters long and a little less than fifteen wide, she had an empty displacement of five thousand tons and a capacity of as many. Her propulsion was ensured by a particular steam engine that was the pride of the engineer officers on board. Instead of the traditional three"cylinder steam engine of decreasing diameter, the Old Warrior was equipped with a four"cylinder engine similar to a diesel engine with overhead valves but in the cylinders, instead of oil, was injected steam at high pressure. The steam was generated by two heavy oil"fired boilers. When this strange steam engine was conceived, it must have been considered as something innovative but, after seen the performance achieved at sea, the designers of the time must have changed their minds and that engine was perhaps the only one left in navigation in the 1960s.
The engineers officers of other ships who visited the engine room were amazed by this type of engine and on the occasion of the visit of the Chief Engineer of a Lloyd Triestino ship, he asked: " How much are you doing on sea with this motor? " The Chief Engineer of the Old Warrior replied proudly: " With smooth sea and without splitting the prop shaft even 11 miles " exaggerating a little. The Lloyd's Engineer shook his head, giggling: " I see… Germans not always hit the targets... look, my ship has an Ansaldo Diesel engine, that looks like this, but we inject light oil and does 19 miles without straining ". Despite her detractors, the Old Warrior's engine was a rarity and remained the pride of its Engineers.
It was dawn when Giorgio decided to send his first message from the ship to the Trieste radio station IQX and with some emotion he manipulated the message on the key:
IQX de HOPF QRU?
Which meant according to the Q code used in the navy: "Trieste from Old Warrior (whose call was HOPF) do you have any messages for us?" They had just sailed and it was extremely unlikely that there were any messages. After a second a loud and ringing signal in the headphones answered:
HOPF de IQX nil (no message)
The radio operator from Trieste radio said aloud amid the good-natured hilarity of his colleagues in the radio room: " They sailed right now, what messages are they looking for? Surely, the radio operator is at his first boarding ". But Giorgio to finish everything completely replied:
IQX de HOPF tu (thanks)
Proud of having successfully performed his first task, he wandered around the ship and entered the officers' lounge where the steward waited to serve breakfast to the first shift officers from 08:00 to 12:00 who, on that ship, were the Captain on the bridge and the Chief Engineer in the engine room. The officers' lounge was a rather large room for that type of ship, located at deck level. The bulkhead towards the bow was occupied by a bench for its entire length, in front of which three tables were fixed to the floor, each of which had two armchairs aft. The seats were assigned according to a precise hierarchical order.
The Captain sat at the starboard table on the bench and in front of him was the Chief Engineer. On the central table sat the Chief Mate on the bench facing starboard, with the First Assistant Engineer on his right. In front of them sat the Second Mate with the Second Assistant Engineer at his side. The third table was reserved for the radio operator sitting on the bench who should have faced the Third Mate and the Third Assistant Engineer but they had not been embarked on that ship to save money. The hierarchical order was respected in both directions. The service chiefs, arranged lengthwise from starboard to port according to rank, sat with their backs towards the bow and faced their subordinates. Giorgio had no subordinates.
He was considering this hierarchical order of which he had been informed by the steward, when the Captain entered and sat in his place, addressing him a " Good morning, Mr. Relli " and received in return from Giorgio: " Good morning Captain, can I ask you our destination? " The answer was: " For now to the south but we are waiting for instructions by radio, I recommend you " and smiled.
After breakfast, Giorgio ran to the radio station and turned on all the receivers he had, activating the listening on the loudspeaker and turning up the volume. He was quite excited waiting to receive such an important message as the ship's destination. His shift involved eight hours of listening per day from 0800 to 2200 with breaks of two hours each. These times were in practice purely indicative as in case of need the radio operator could spend many more hours in his place or, during the mandatory hours, turn up the volume and remain in his cabin next to the radio station. In theory he had no other duties aboard. But only in theory as we will see later.
In the two following days Giorgio spent almost all his time on the radio station with very few breaks, asking Ancona radio, which was the most important radio station in the middle Adriatic, several times a day waiting for the telegram announced by the Captain. On the third day a croaking voice from the radiotelephone pronounced his call sign followed by the name of the ship. Ancona radio had a phonogram for them. He answered immediately and they sent him the phonogram, short and without particular details:
To: Commander Old Warrior from: Agenzia Calvetti stop Directing Salonicco stop Support Schembri Agency. End.
Giorgio ran to the bridge where the Captain was on duty and handed him the phonogram copied in block letters. After reading it, the Captain recommended " Bring me the weather reports every twelve hours with the forecasts on our route, please " " Of course, Captain " he answered and returned to the radio station.
The next day he received the Malta weather forecasts announcing a force 6/8 storm in the south Aegean. He immediately reported to the Captain who asked him to constantly monitor the evolution of bad weather. On arriving at the Otranto channel, the bulletin announced a slight improvement in the sea which dropped to 4/6, so the Captain decided to continue on the established route by rounding the southern tip of Greece, Cape Matapan. The monks of the monastery on the top of the promontory greeted by ringing the bells the passing ships that answered with a long whistle of the onboard siren. A few hours after rounding Cape Matapan the sea strengthened again to a force 6/8 storm with rain and thunderstorms. The old ship began to roll violently and in the old hull there were squeaks that were not very reassuring at least for him who had never been in a similar situation. The Old Warrior had empty holds, which helped make the rolls even wider. He thought he was lucky not to be seasick even if that rhythmic and continuous rocking caused some annoyance. He often went up to the deck when he had no commitments, a bit out of curiosity but also to fraternize with other officers on duty. The Chief Mate, the one looking like an old fisherman, who always wore the blue cloth jacket and the woolen cap, remained calm and looked at the stormy sea, swinging on his legs to support the roll and occasionally giving some order to the helmsman to correct course. Looking at him, Giorgio reassured himself thinking that he must have seen much worse at sea. The Second Mate, on the other hand, was a thin little man in his sixties with a thin mustache and a nervous air, who continually walked on the deck, longitudinally from starboard to port and vice versa, up or down depending on the roll. He too did not show any particular concern which reassured Giorgio even more about the hold of the ship which was proceeding at half speed to limit the impact of the waves on the old hull. The Captain then did not really consider the conditions of that sea and joked with the Dalmatian helmsman talking to him in Croatian.
After two days of storm, the ship reached the north of the Aegean where waters were calmer and headed full force for the port of Thessaloniki. In Thessaloniki 5,000 tons of sunflower seeds were to be loaded in bulk for Porto Corsini in Ravenna. This is where the raw material for making sunflower oil came from, thought Giorgio.
The Old Warrior docked at the pier in the port of Thessaloniki at 18:00 and the port authorities and the support agent immediately boarded. Once the formalities were completed, the Chief Mate organized the duty shifts in port, leaving all the others in shore. The radio operator, when the ship was moored, not only had no commitments but was forbidden to turn on the radio transmitting equipment and Giorgio was thinking about how to spend his evening.
It was his first outing as a ship officer and even though he had already been abroad in the past, getting there by sea was new and exciting. He began to think with whom to go ashore to share the exploration of the city with someone and perhaps with someone already experienced in the place. From a quick evaluation he immediately discarded the Captain and the deck officers, too old and not very confident with them for the moment. The closest to him in age were the cook, a Triestine in his late thirties and the Second Assistant Engineer, a tall, thin type with large sideburns that framed his thin, almost haggard face. There wasn't much choice so he decided to first ask the cook, the more cheerful and likable of the two, if he had plans for the evening. " Obviously hunting for girls right? " the cook replied, laughing, " we organize a “mopping"up patrol", but wait until I hear the Second Assistant Engineer that will surely not stay on board tonight, all the old ones will " and laughed louder.
The "patrol" was ready to leave around 8 pm and got off the ship and walked all the way down the pier to the exit gate. The cook immediately took matters into his own hands, hailed a taxi and all three got into it. None of them spoke Greek but luckily the taxi driver spoke a little German and a little English so the cook was able to make him understood that they wanted to have dinner in a good restaurant. They arrived at a typical restaurant where they gorged themselves on local specialties with incomprehensible names accompanied by an excellent red wine to which everyone paid special attention. Around midnight they took another taxi and the cook, who had become the expedition Captain, asked the driver to take them to some place where there were girls and music. The driver nodded knowing well that sailors could not ask for other at that time. He headed out of town to a mountainous area he called Monastir. Giorgio, sitting in the back seat of the old black Fiat 1100E, saw patches of snow on the side of the road, from the window, and asked the cook if they were headed for some ski resort. The question sparked a hilarity not justified except by the red wine from before.
They arrived at an isolated cottage that stood on a small plateau in the side of the hill and, getting out of the car without worrying about how to get back on board, the cook paid the driver who left. They entered a kind of very spacious and crowded tavern, where there was inside all men of all ages. In one corner there was music, a trio of elderly people strumming on strange stringed instruments that resembled guitars but resting horizontally on their knees and the music was traditional Greek. The counter next to the orchestra was crowded with patrons served by a man in his forties with mustache and sideburns and a girl who looked like his daughter.
They sat at the only table left free and shortly after the girl approached, a very pretty and very curvy brunette. Six eyes magnetized on the brunette's huge breast and, when she asked in English what they wanted to drink, they answered in chorus " Red wine " without looking away. Once the hypnotic effect of the brunette's breasts ceased, the cook said perplexed: " The taxi driver screwed us, the music is there but girls, apart from the busty woman, nothing at all " The other two nodded disconsolately and got busy with the wine which was even better than the restaurant.
At one point the music changed and increased in volume. A dozen men rose from the tables with handkerchiefs in their hands and, in the center of the room, stood in a circle holding on to the handkerchiefs. The dance started slowly and then as it increased it gained strength until it reached a very involving rhythm. The highly concentrated dancers moved with incredible synchronism for non-professionals and even a little tipsy. It was evident that they had in their blood what was more than music to them. From their absolutely virile movements one could guess the meaning of tradition, history, pride of their ancient civilization, of life itself.
In the middle of the dance, whose music had involved everyone in the room, the bartender hastened to bring another bottle and said something, approaching the cook's ear to be heard in the din of the room. The cook gasped for a moment and when the bartender walked away " Where are the women? " the other two asked in unison, sensing the content of the bartender's message. " You mean the WOMAN, the only one is the brunette and upstairs her room. Now, either we take turns or nothing". Nothing was a sad word so they decided to take turns. The highest in rank was Giorgio and he had to climb first. The brunette led him to the upper floor where in a huge space a room had been created with plywood walls painted in canary yellow and grass green. Surely no designer had ever interfered in the choice of that furniture. The bed rested on bricks, with no headboard, and the lopsided chest for a leg had a vocabulary. Without paying too much attention to the thin, Giorgio enjoyed himself with the brunette but he could not kiss her because she told him that for her it was a job and she would kiss only for love. He descended to join the others who immediately asked him:" How did she go? "." Uh ... great, never been with a woman like that " and it was true.
The second session player went up to brunette’s room and then the third while Giorgio enjoyed the music and the dances that continued incessantly. When the third got off they asked the man at the counter if there was a way to return to the port. They were very organized, one of the patrons at the counter had a taxi that brought them back to the port without problems.
The trip back to Ravenna for unloading began two days later and one morning Giorgio and the Second Assistant Engineer met in the kitchen while the cook was preparing coffee. They began to comment on the evening they had spent together in Thessaloniki. The cook maliciously began to say that one had to be careful of illnesses with those women and asked Giorgio if he had used a condom. Having received an affirmative answer, he said that he too had used it offered by the brunette. They saw the other, who had been the third to have the girl's favor, turn pale:
" She didn't give me anything! " He replied getting nervous. " Either she had finished them or you inspired her confidence " grinned the cook adding: " A big risk though ". The two sipped their coffee, sneering behind the poor man who went away worried and irritated.
Once in Porto Corsini, the ship was unloaded in a very short time with suction pipes which stored the seeds directly in the storage tanks and then set sail for Monfalcone. The Old Warrior had been moored for a few days in Porto Rosega of Monfalcone for supplies and some minor repairs when the news arrived that the ship had been chartered for a number of fixed trips. It would have had to sail empty for Durres, Albania, to load iron ore to take it to Galati, Romania, about twenty miles up the Danube from there it would have had to continue to the port of Braila, a little further on the river, to loading wooden logs to be unloaded in Monfalcone for the local Paper Mill. The prospect seemed pleasant, fixed ports and not too long trips, in total about a month for each trip considering also loading and unloading time.
Giorgio had made friends with the Chief Engineer, a short, sturdy thirty"year"old with very short blonde hair cut in the military style. He was a friendly and nice guy who had been sailing since he was twenty and obviously was very proud of his "off"series" engine.
In view of these fixed trips, first joking but then seriously considering the thing, they both began to think that it would be nice to have a car on board to be able to run around on shore while staying in the ports. A few days before departure, Giorgio showed up alongside the ship driving an Alfa Romeo Giulietta Sprint 1.6, a red coupe that looked like a fire. He had bought it for little money, in partnership with the Chief Engineer, in a car recovery in the area, but it was functional and with the body in good condition at least in appearance, despite its 15 years of service. The loading on board had been agreed by the Chief Engineer with the boatswain, who could not refuse him a favor, in exchange for a "tax" to be paid which consisted of a case of beer for each loading and unloading of the car. Not for him but for the sailors, boatswain specified.
A few hours before departure, the car was harnessed with nets and hoisted onto the hatch of hold number two at the bow of the quarterdeck, with a ship's loading crane. Tied up properly and covered with a tarp, it was waiting to take to the sea. Promptly paid the tax to the boatswain, the ship soon set sail. While navigating with a treacherous swell, Giorgio and the Chief Engineer often went to check the tension of the ropes that blocked the car and with relief they found that the boatswain had done a good job. On the other hand, if it ended up in the sea, it would no longer be able to collect its tax.
The ship entered the port of Durres at dawn and the pilot got on board. The captain, as usual, had given orders to hoist the courtesy flag of the host country on the starboard yard of the mainmast and a young man on deck had taken charge of the operation. The Albanian pilot, as soon as he got on the bridge, in perfect Italian and in a friendly tone, said to the Captain: " Barba I advise you to lower that Albanian flag before we enter the port " and smiling added: " if you do not want us to be shot at from harbor artillery! " The Captain looked at him surprised but, observing the flag better, he noticed that it had a red background with the black eagle in the center but next to the eagle two fasces stood out. It was the Albanian flag at the time of the Italian occupation. Apologizing to the pilot he immediately had the flag lowered and replaced with the right one without the fasces.
At the time, Albania was an armored country in itself and, despite the population being Muslim, it had a communist, Marxist, Leninist regime and was the only European ally of Mao's China. It had fewer than two million inhabitants but proudly Albanians claimed that they and the Chinese together were a billion and a half.
As soon as the docking maneuvers were completed, Giorgio and the director, who were free from commitments on board, went ashore and immediately went to the port exit to go to the city, to the support agency, to ask for authorization for the landing the car. At the gate, a uniformed guard stopped them immediately. They tried to explain the reasons for their exit but the guard replied that an authorization was required to go out on foot and another to go out by car. The guard explained very kindly, that for the first authorization it took about a month and for the second one at least six. While they were talking, a large woman walked past them dressed in a Muslim dress with a kind of scarf that covered most of her face. The two turned to look at her not out of physical attraction but out of pure curiosity as she looked like a moving haystack. The guard noticed them and added another piece of advice: " I also suggest you do not turn around to look at women, it is not used here ". After thanking the guard for the valuable advice they returned on board rather disappointed. The car had been unloaded and put in a corner waiting to get back on board without even a "skid".
Loading operations began the next day. The ship was moored to a quay where a huge hill of a reddish mineral, probably high in iron, had been deposited, although the Albanians proudly claimed that it also contained gold. Several teams of shippers worked hard day and night. Each team consisted of a man and a woman with her head wrapped in the usual scarf. The man walked first with a pickax on his shoulder and a pipe in his mouth followed by the woman pushing a wheelbarrow with a shovel inside. Arriving at the mineral hill, the man gave exactly five blows with his pickax and sat down to smoke his pipe. The woman loaded the wheelbarrow with the shovel, carried it to the ship’s hold and unloaded it inside. On her return, the man gave another five blows of the pickax so fast that the woman did not have time to sit down and he sat down again to smoke, and so on. In the evening, other similar teams arrived to work the night shift and, incredibly, in a few days the loading was finished. The holds were half empty but, because of the high specific weight of the mineral, the maximum capacity of the ship had been reached.
The Old Warrior set sail very early in the morning, carefully avoiding the half"sunken wreck of a ship broken in two that "watched" at the entrance to the port and headed off to the south. It doubled the chief Matapan receiving the usual greeting of the monks of the monastery and George thought that they must not be very busy because they greeted all the passing ships. At that point there was a lot of traffic so the bell was practically continuous. The sea was calm and the old hull glided "full speed" towards the Dardanelles Strait which it reached a few days later.
Past the Sea of Marmara, the Old Warrior came in sight of Istanbul showing in the distance the splendor of the dome of the Hagia Sophia Cathedral flanked by the Blue Mosque which had been given the task of beating the Christian cathedral in beauty to demonstrate the world superiority of Islam and to comply with the will of the child sultan Ahmet I, which he had built in the early 1600s.
Past the Sea of Marmara, the Old Warrior came within sight of Istanbul showing in the distance the splendor of the dome of the Hagia Sophia Cathedral flanked by the Blue Mosque which had been given the task of beating the Christian cathedral in beauty to demonstrate the world superiority of Islam and to comply with the will of the child sultan Ahmet I, which he had built in the early 1600s.
To cross the Bosphorus it was necessary to slow down and let a harbor police boat alongside. An officer had to get off the boat to have the ship's documents checked, and then the ship could continue the navigation. This operation was normally the task of the Second Mate who was a thin nervous man with a sickly look. The Captain took Giorgio aside and made him sit in his cabin.
" Look, Mr. Relli, I need your help. Since the Second Mate is essential to me otherwise the guard shifts would become unsustainable and are already heavy, I wouldn't want to lose it at sea " he said smiling " You should be kind enough to deal with the Turkish police "
" Certainly Captain " Giorgio promptly replied. It was his first task not as a radio operator and it was not the only one.
Arriving at the predetermined point the ship put the engine slow forward and was flanked by the police boat. Two sailors lowered the rope ladder with the wooden steps and Giorgio got down on the boat, had the documents checked and went up without problems even if it made a certain impression along those five or six yards on the side with the ship in motion and with a slight roll . From that day on, at each passage through the Bosphorus, police control was the responsibility of Giorgio. At the time, there were no bridges over the Bosphorus and numerous water buses crossed it to connect the two parts of the city. Navigation was thus quite complex because of the high traffic and especially at night when countless small boats of all kinds, many of which did not have lights, crossed the canal. Leaving the Bosphorus, the ship headed north along the Bulgarian coast towards the Danube delta. Beyond Bulgaria, almost across the delta, they veered starboard towards the open sea and, after several miles, turned their bow again towards the delta with the engine stationary
Another task that the Captain had assigned to Giorgio was to stay at the engine telegraph during maneuvers or in delicate situations. The engine telegraph was a short brass cylinder, placed horizontally on a metal column, equipped with a handle that made an index move on the two lateral scales that indicated from "full astern" to "full ahead" with "engine stop" in the middle scale. When it was activated, another equal in the engine room marked what was set from the bridge and the watch officer adjusted the speed of the ship according to the order received.
Giorgio on the deck next to the telegraph observed this unusual maneuver and asked the Captain why, who replied: " The entry channel has a submerged bump on the seabed and we risk to touch it, so we need to take a run to pass. " In practice, the river deposited earth and various debris with the current and a kind of submerged bump was formed on the seabed. Motor ships with powerful engines did not have the problems that the Old Warrior had despite its special German engine. Furthermore, the fully loaded ship was at the limit of the permitted draft and the submerged part was very deep. The Captain called the Chief Engineer with the mouthpiece for the engine room: "We are at the delta, Chief, how long it takes to give me maximum power ? ". " Give me a quarter of an hour Captain. " replied the director, aware of the problem.
The mouthpiece was a brass tube a few centimeters in diameter that reached the engine room from the bridge. A whistle was inserted at both ends so that by blowing on one side you warned on the other that someone was calling and removing the whistle you could talk. It was said that an elderly Captain of the Old Warrior, who did not have the sympathies of his Chief Engineer at all, happened that the Chief Engineer replaced the whistle with a cork, forcing the poor man to puff himself in vain trying to operate the whistle in the engine room and cursing with the little breath he had left.
The Captain ordered Giorgio “full ahead”. The boilers were at maximum pressure and perhaps beyond, when the propeller began to spin with all possible speed, the hull gave a start like a runaway horse. The trees began to sway, breaking the radio antenna that was stretched between them. Giorgio looked with disappointment at the braided copper cable about thirty meters long on the deck and thought that every month he would have to repair the antenna and send sailors to the masts to put it back in place.
With several miles of run up, the ship reached the entry at a speed well beyond maximum cruising speed that she could not sustain for long. The impact with the submerged bump made jolts and creaks in an impressive way but the old hull resisted well and began to rise up the river at a normal speed. The Danube delta was not very attractive. Millions of flying insects of all kinds captained by ravenous mosquitoes forced the crew to close portholes and doors throughout the ship. There was not a lot of traffic on the river, only a few barges carrying various materials or loaded with fuel. Arriving in Galati after about ten miles from the delta, the ship anchored fairly close to the shore where there was a quay equipped for unloading the ore. In little more than a day, during which no one went ashore, the ship was completely unloaded and resumed navigation along the river.
After Galati the river turned south and, about twenty miles away, there was the port of Braila. It was a much larger port with an inlet protected from the current and docks equipped for loading poplar wood in one meter logs. As soon as they were moored, a port police patrol boarded for the usual paperwork and cargo contract checks but, unexpectedly, it was captained by the port Captain personally. He was a Captain Lieutenant in his fifties, tall, martial, with a uniform whose sleeves bore his golden rank signs: a round of cleat, two wide lasagna and a very wide lasagna. In the Italian navy slang, the rank signs of a Captain Lieutenant were so called. Once the paperwork was done, he dismissed the team, sending it back to shore and asked the Captain to visit the ship. The Captain instructed Giorgio to accompany him, giving a plausible but false excuse, and retired to his cabin. During the visit Giorgio immediately noticed that the senior officer had a great desire to talk and make friends more than to see the ship, which was not really a marvel worthy of a visit. After taking a quick ride on deck and an even quicker ride in the engine room he asked to visit the radio station. And it was there that, sheltering from prying ears, he began to ask Giorgio if he had brought souvenirs from Italy as it was known that seamen brought with them nylon stockings, in Romania almost impossible to find at that time, to barter them for favors. of the local ladies. Giorgio immediately understood where the high officer wanted to arrive and told him: " Sir, I didn't know anything about Romania, among other things this is my first embarkation, but I have some things with me and if you allow me I would like to give you them as a souvenir of your visit to our ship ". While the very interested captain remained in silent assent, Giorgio went to his cabin and returned shortly after with three packs of Gillette double blade razors, a can of Gillette shaving foam and a bottle of Arden sandal wood eau de toilette, all inserted in a cardboard handbag with the brand of a famous perfumery in Trieste. All things that could not be found and highly coveted in Romania at the time.
The Captain widened his eyes for a moment but immediately gave himself a demeanor thanking Giorgio for his kindness. Leaving the radio station, from the life boat deck, they saw the sailors under the orders of the boatswain who were discovering the Alfa Romeo to unload it on the dock. The vision of the car enchanted the Captain, struck by such great Italic beauty car and asked who he was the owner. Giorgio replied that it belonged to him in partnership with the Chief Engineer and that if they managed to obtain permission they would have the intention of visiting the city and perhaps the surroundings. Meanwhile, the Alfa Romeo had been unloaded on the dock and was surrounded by several onlookers who had come running to look at it closely, having noticed it hanging from the harness while the ship's crane lowered it to the dock. They went together and approached the car. Those curious at the sight of the Captain's golden signs on his sleeves withdrew in good order but reluctantly. Giorgio opened the doors to let him admire the black leather interior and his guest, after having carefully observed it from all sides, including the double custom made tail pipe, asked Giorgio if they could take a ride together. Giorgio agreed but specified that he still did not have permission from the authorities to leave the harbor. The Captain smiled: "Don't worry about anything if I'm with you."
While Giorgio started the engine, the captain rolled down the window and leaned his arm out of him exposing the half kilo of gold he had on his sleeve. He headed towards the exit of the harbor and just before the gate slowed down at a walking pace. A guard came out of the guard hut amazed and jumped to attention, saluting militarily. The Captain exchanged a few sentences in Romanian that sounded more like orders than conversations and they left the harbor. They rode around downtown to the amazement of passers by both for the car and for the half kilo of gold that protruded from the window. They stopped in front of a police station and the Captain got out apologizing for a short stop. He returned after about ten minutes announcing to Giorgio: " Everything is OK, you can go wherever you want in Romania and if someone should stop you for any reason, tell him to call the harbor command. But you will see that no one will stop you. " he smiled and added " I would ask you now to take me home ".
Giorgio thanked him heartily and told him that since they would return next month if he wanted something from Italy he could have provided him. The Captain thanked him and announced a list, which he would be given on board, of things to bring from Italy on the following trip.
When he reached his home, he pompously got out and, walking very slowly with a martial way, headed to the entrance of his home to the amazement and wonder of the passers by who had seen him get out of an "alien" vehicle. Every evening the red Alfa ran around downtown to the amazement of passers by. Parking the car had become really awkward. Onlookers gathered around the car with veneration, someone more informed whispered to the others " Alfa Romeo, Milano " and the voice also reached those behind who craned their necks to see it. Landing aliens with a flying saucer couldn't have attracted more attention.
Giorgio and the chief engineer went out for the most part together and frequented the Dunarea restaurant almost every evening, often with other ship officers who didn't mind a ride in the car. The restaurant must have been a very luxurious place in the past and this could be deduced from the red velvet curtains even if they were worn and torn in several places. The gilded stuccoes on the coffered ceiling were partly crumbled like those on the walls. The tables with the white tablecloths showing some holes had padded chairs with armrests around them that had also seen better times. Despite the obvious air of decline, the waiters were adamant they were serving at the Hilton New York hotel. Thoughtful and dignified, they abounded in decorations and accessories for the table. Ice bucket, finely chiseled salt shakers, full set of glasses, silver looking cutlery and immaculate napkins with a few hidden holes in the folds. On the first evening, after hearing the menu proudly enunciated by the waiter, not too extensive to tell the truth, they ordered baked sturgeon with various side dishes and red carp caviar as an appetizer. The waiter triumphantly suggested some Russian champagne which was accepted by all with curiosity. It was the first time that Giorgio had tasted red caviar and he ate an exaggerated quantity. The sturgeon was great and the Russian champagne went down with pleasure. The ice bucket was continually replenished by the waiters and in the end seven bottles were gone. Leaving the restaurant, they asked passers by in rough Romanian if there was any place to end the evening. There were no night clubs in the city but there was a kind of pub not far away where night owls gathered. They finished the evening there in front of glasses of vodka. The least drunk of all was Giorgio and it was his job to bring the company on board not before having whistled a bit of tires around a fountain in the center of a square. Two policemen noticed his skill in controlled skidding around the fountain but turned their heads and walked away. Giorgio thought that the golden sleeves of the harbor Captain had a good power on them.
The following evening, the same company decided to repeat the experience at the Dunarea as they had a good time overall. However, they arrived later around 10 pm. The menu of the day before had shrunk considerably. There was only fried rabbit brain, fried potatoes and cheese. Having no choice, they had everything brought and ordered the Russian champagne which would at least brighten the meal. No, it was finished they had drunk it all the night before. There was only beer bottles that the waiter carefully introduced into the ice bucket. The beer was tasteless and Giorgio noticed that at the other tables people put salt in to try to flavor it. So they did too but with poor results. They ran out of beer bottles and ordered more but the waiter advised that there were only four more left. Amazed, they asked for explanations and they were told that the management assigned a certain amount of alcohol and after that they could not ask for more. They continued to frequent the restaurant every evening, but with a variant: upon arrival at around 7 pm, they ordered all the bottles of champagne and beer that they had supplied for the evening. A considerable number of overflowing ice buckets surrounded their table under the malevolent gaze of the few other patrons who had to sip mineral water while dining.
One evening Giorgio and the Chief Engineer were having dinner at the Dunarea, occupying the usual table surrounded by overflowing ice buckets, when two rather handsome women entered and sat down at a table not far from them. When the waiter approached the girls' table, it began a friendly conversation that soon turned into a lively discussion. The girls seemed irritated and complained to the waiter about something. When the waiter left their table to go to the kitchen the Chief Engineer motioned him to come over and asked him what the discussion argument was. He replied that they had run out of Russian champagne and the young ladies were very upset. Giorgio took the ball and instructed the waiter to bring one of the spare bottles placed in the buckets to their table. The waiter did the order and poured the champagne not before having whispered something to one of the two, pointing to their table. The one who looked like a blonde doll, cute but exaggeratedly made up said in Italian: " Thank you gentlemen " To which the Chief Engineer went off in the air: " If you are alone you could sit here with us and help us to destroy our supply of champagne, for us would be a valuable help ". The two looked at each other for a moment and decided that the only way for drinking champagne was that. The doll was called Luminiza and was a post office clerk while the brunette was called Mioara, she was an interpreter and spoke almost perfect Italian. During the dinner the conversation was pleasantly animated, ranging from Italian football to the natural beauties of Romania. The doll devoured the Chief Engineer with her eyes, attracted by his making energetic while the brunette was very composed and addressed Giorgio in an almost whispered voice. Around midnight, not before having investigated whether they were married or engaged, the Chief Engineer asked the doll: " Do you know a place to finish the evening, perhaps listening to music or dancing? " Unexpectedly answered the brunette: " I know a place just outside town, in an old country house where some friends of mines have set up a kind of club. There is music and you can also dance but we will need a taxi " The manager said with disdain: " Don't worry, we are equipped ".
They paid the bill and despite the protests of the girls they also paid theirs remaining amazed, as always, by the derisory bill. They left the venue and headed for the Alfa Romeo which was waiting for them slyly in the dark and, given the late hour, did not have the usual crowd of admirers. The girls did not show great surprise at the sight of the car. Either they were good actresses or they were used to dating sports car owners. Only a: "What a beautiful car" said more out of courtesy than anything else. Giorgio drove following the directions of the brunette and they came to a remote farmhouse in the country. It must have been a state farm in the past, then abandoned for some obscure reason. The main body consisted of a two storey building with a sharp roof and was surrounded by other wooden buildings of evident farm use. He parked in the open space in front of the house next to several other cars.
The fleet of machines available in Romania at that time did not allow for great choices. The Dacia, an economy version of the Renault 14 was the most popular. The Trabant with the fiberboard body had the 500cc two stroke engine. A witty joke that circulated in all eastern countries said that the Trabant was the longest car in the world, if you also counted the trail of smoke it left behind. The two"stroke engine should have been powered by a 2% oil mixture but some pranksters had spread the rumor that putting the mixture at 5% the engine would have a much longer life even if it made a stinking smoke from the exhaust pipe. Thus was born the longest car in the world. Some eccentrics owned a Skoda that did not excel in anything, only the coupe version that managed to slightly exceed 100 km / h was the dream of motorists. Giorgio parked right next to a red Skoda coupe that timidly faded immediately next to the red fire of the Alfa.
At the invitation of the brunette they headed for the building that looked like a barn. Loud rock music could be heard from outside and when they entered they were pleasantly surprised. The large room had been completely restored with polished wooden walls and a marble floor. Tables and chairs were arranged all around the walls and here and there a few sofas completed the furniture. At the back of the room there was a kind of stage where live bands probably also performed.
That evening there was a console with two turntables and two huge loudspeakers that at that moment were shooting full force Lucille, shouted by Little Richard. The owner was at the console and the brunette introduced them. He was a smart looking guy in his thirties who by profession was an entrepreneur and importer but probably without any respect for the property of others and for the tax law. Proudly he showed his new sound system. Giorgio immediately recognized a 500 watt McIntosh tube amplifier, which was the best on the international market and alone, it must have been worth much more than the whole farm. "Had it from a friend of mines." he said, smiling in broken Italian. Giorgio thought that perhaps the unsuspecting friend was still looking for his amplifier.
The four of them sat down on a large sofa and a sort of waiter in blue jeans and a jacket with fringes on the sleeves, sporting Elvis style sideburns, brought a bottle of vodka and four glasses. After a couple of glasses the Chief Engineer and the doll threw themselves into the dances while Giorgio and the brunette remained on the sofa talking, both discovering that they were not too fond of wild dancing. At one point the disc jokey decided to give breath to the dancers and spread the first notes of Procol Harum's “a whiter shade of pale”. Giorgio stood up politely and holding out his hand to the brunette asked, with a discreet French pronunciation, smiling: " Voulez-vous danser avec moi madamoiselle? "."Mais bien sûr monsieur," she replied cheerfully. She was also a French interpreter.
The vodka and the particularly sensual music convinced Giorgio to hug his lady a little more than normal and he felt that the brunette was resting her head on his shoulder with a certain abandon. They danced a few more slow songs and the urge for sex took both. Back on the sofa they noticed that the doll and the director had disappeared, or exhausted by rock 'n roll or perhaps taken by a similar desire. Giorgio took courage and asked the brunette: " What do you think if we find a place to spend the night together? " He was surprised to hear: " The owner will definitely lend me a room if I ask him, he is a friend and he has many... " with a half smile between shy and excited.
The brunette did not look like a prostitute at all and Giorgio later discovered that she had paid for the room to the smuggler-disc-jokey. During the night, she had let out all the fire that she had inside her and Giorgio, who on his part had been fasting for sex for a long time, behaved with enthusiasm as a passionate and expert lover despite his young age, to the great satisfaction of the brunette.
Only in the morning did he think of the Chief Engineer and the car. He hadn't warned him that he would stop for the night and maybe he had looked for him. His fears vanished immediately when he saw him, from the window, leaning against the car hugging the doll. They took the girls home and went back on board to sleep until the evening. They met again in the evening at the Dunarea and the after dinner was the same. The girls were pleasant conversation and delightful in bed. Almost every night everything happened the same way, sometimes with some variation. Between one embrace and the next, the director and the doll would go knock on Giorgio's door to be together all four to joke and to comment on the performances made and suffered. So they spent all the time the ship loaded the timber, as both were free during their stay in port. After loading, the Old Warrior, heeled ten degrees on the starboard side due to the timber loaded also on the deck that raised the center of gravity of the ship, went down the river again without any problem at the bar as the current favored the exit in the open sea and they did it again. the same route directed to Monfalcone.
Giorgio had made friends with Captain Riccardi and a mutual sympathy and respect had arisen between the two. In the free hours they often met in the officers' lounge chatting while Barba did puzzles or played cards together. The Captain was a rather witty person and prone to jokes. He told Giorgio that many years earlier, when he commanded a luxury cruise ship, he was asked by a passionate philatelic friend to bring him rare stamps from the countries he visited. At each port he bought the strangest stamps he could find and sent them by post to his friend, accompanying each shipment with a short and jolly poem he composed.
The postage stamps from Latvia and Lithuania were accompanied by the following:
Here stamps from new countries, then,
fuck me in the ass if you already have them.
While those of Andorra and San Marino:
Have them from Andorra and San Marin,
the two republics of my big pin. (intended as dick)
Those from Japan were accompanied by:
Rare stamps for you from China and Japon,
where geishas in great kimon
suck dicks in yellow lemon
Going up the Adriatic sea, all ships follow a route close to the Yugoslav coast since the favorable current is directed northwards as opposed to the route along the Italian coast which uses the southward current. When the Old Warrior came across Zadar, the Captain stood motionless on the starboard bridge wing with binoculars aimed at the city. Giorgio noticed that tears were streaming down the Captain's face as he silently stared at his city he had had to leave immediately after the war. This sadness did not last long because the witty gentleman returned again. He told an anecdote about Zara. When he was young, there were only two cars in Zadar. That number one license plate was from the mayor and that number two was from the pharmacist. " Maybe you can't believe but, one day, those two old fools collided with their cars. " he said, giggling.
So they spent several months always making the same route Monfalcone, Durazzo, Galati, Braila and back to Monfalcone. One day while the ship was in port in Monfalcone, Mr. Calvetti, owner of the homonymous agency and owner of the ship, unexpectedly boarded. From the pompous and malevolent air with he got on board, Giorgio foresaw ugly problems coming. As soon as he was aboard he asked to gather the Captain and all officers in the saloon. He placed himself in the center and began by publicly announcing that some of them had committed serious shortcomings in navigation. Any officer if lacking in something should have been rebuked and, if necessary, also punished but exclusively in private, without undermining the officer's authority for the future.
But in this case the future would not have been compromised in any way as the disembarkation of the guilty officer had already been decided.
The first to be accused was the Captain himself, with a sentence in the gall: " I had given orders to inform you, Mr. Captain, that the officers' meals were to be served in the room next door and not in this hall. Have you been informed? " The Captain, holding back his anger for that unpleasant scene to everyone, replied calmly: " Yes, Mr. Calvetti, I have been informed by the Chief Mate " There was a rumor that the first officer was the owner's spy and that he would report to him every event that occurred on board during the navigation. " How come, Mr. Captain, you have allowed yourself to transgress my order? “ He replied, raising his voice as if he were scolding a child. The Captain stood in front of him with his legs apart, his hands on his hips, overhanging him by at least one foot and looking him in the eyes from above, said in a calm but authoritative voice: " Mr. Calvetti, I inform you that I am not willing to consume meals in that little hole room nor do I allow my officers to do so. I assure you that meals will be served on my order, always here in the officers' lounge " Calvetti turned pale and almost trembling with rage replied in an even louder voice that had become almost shrill: " Commander I make her disembark from my ship for having disobeyed my orders " The Captain always in the same position with a thunderous voice that was heard by all the crew who was eavesdropping from the deck: " Mr. Calvetti you make all the decisions you believe but now get off MY ship immediately ". He was forced to go down because on board the maximum authority was the Captain and above him only God. Nobody could oppose this order not even the owner. The second accused should have been Giorgio who was spared public punishment thanks to the forced removal of the owner. He too received, the next day, the disembarkation letter motivated by a failure made during the first voyage. Giorgio had received the phonogram from Ancona radio and had followed the evolution of bad weather. When the weather had slightly improved the Captain decided to continue on the established route. In the meantime, the agency was aware of the bad weather but not of the improvement and had sent a second phonogram via Crotone radio, which Giorgio did not realize as he was concentrated on the messages in Morse, in which he ordered to pass through the Corinth canal to avoid the bad weather. The mistake of Giorgio had not produced any damage but rather had saved the cost of passing the canal which was quite high. In reality, the shipowner no longer needed the radio operator as he had obtained a long"term contract for coastal voyages in the Adriatic for which, by law, the radiotelephone could be used by the Captain himself with a considerable saving of a salary. The Captain disembarked with dignity two days later, greeting all the crew and thanking them for their cooperation. He shook Giorgione's hand with sympathy: " It was nice to work with you, Mr. Relli "." Thank you Captain, for me too " replied Giorgio with a little sadness. They both knew they would never see each other again. Giorgio left the ship the following day. Most sorry of all was the chief engineer who lost a friend and companion on car and sexual raids. The Alfa remained on board even though the humid and brackish air after a long time at sea had seriously damaged the body. Perhaps the director could have used it again but not for long and then in Italy it could not collect the admiration received in Romania.
Giorgio returned to Trieste and after a couple of days of vacation spent with old friends in the cafes of the Acquitted4 telling them his sea adventures, he set out in search of another embarkation. He felt much safer now and was no longer afraid of not being up to the task. A couple of weeks passed during which he made numerous phone calls to the Trieste shipping agencies without obtaining any positive feedback. He then decided to go to Genoa to continue the search in person. He thought that in the busiest Italian port he would have a better chance.
He packed his bags and one morning boarded the Trieste-Genoa rapid train. In Genoa he took up residence in a hotel, near the Principe railway station, which was decent, clean and cheap enough to allow a long stay. During the day he visited the many shipping agencies that recruited personnel for foreign-flagged ships. In the evening, on the other hand, he wandered around the old port, not far from the hotel, in front of which there were numerous clubs frequented mainly by seafarers.
He chose a small bar and after a few days he made friends with the regulars who were parked every evening on the tables of the narrow and long room with a counter that took its entire length and overlooked by numerous American-style stools. Some were seafarers waiting for boarding like him but most were Genoese who spent their evenings discussing mainly politics. In the group they were all politically oriented to the right with some Nazis as well. This surprised Giorgio that he did not expect to find a den of fascists in the "red" Genoa of those years. Not many years earlier, in the port, riots had broken out due to the birth of Tambroni5 government which had the external support of the MSI6. The communist dockers in revolt tried to slaughter the policemen, sent to quell the riots, with their hooks used to load the sacks and someone even succeeded.
Despite the length of the counter, the service was ensured by a caring and friendly girl who was sometimes flanked at rush hour by her mother, a woman in her fifties, happily overweight. The regulars had almost adopted the two women and in case of fights between drunken sailors, not uncommon after a certain hour, they protected them and in practice ensured public order in the place. Very late one evening, Giorgio was amused at one of their public order interventions. Two uniformed American sailors stood at the counter and, clearly drunk, began to quarrel violently. When one of the two broke a bottle and, holding it by the neck, approached the other in a threatening manner, one of the group who was monitoring the scene stood up. He was a Genoese giant of nearly two meters with a swastika tattooed on his powerful bicep held uncovered by the rolled up sleeve of his military"colored shirt. He squeezed from behind, in his huge hand, the neck of the one with the bottle and as he passed he also took the neck of the other, heading towards the exit with the two almost raised off the ground. He left them pushing them to the ground a few meters from the door of the club, barking in English: " You don’t dare to get back inside " and went back into the bar singing Die Fahne hoch, the Nazi anthem par excellence. A few minutes later two gigantic MPs armed with truncheons, got out of a jeep with a flashing light and siren and loaded the two sailors, as if they were parcels, into the back of the jeep and set off at full speed.
The lady at the bar felt safe with that patron so protective and she often offered drinks to the whole company who often stayed to chat and drink even after closing time. After about a week of this nightlife, Giorgio found a message at the hotel reception. The Bertuzzi agency wanted to be called back for urgent boarding. Giorgio immediately called back and they made an appointment for the next day.
The following day he reached the office by taxi without the excitement of the previous time, but still excited by the speed with which he had found a boarding and thus finally leaving Genoa and the nightlife of the port that he had begun to get tired of. Also in this case, the agent was in partnership with the shipping company, the Monrovian Shipping Company, which was based in Bern, Switzerland and owned three ships: the Bayhorse, the Sorrelhorse and the Whitehorse, all flying the Panamanian flag. They were three sister ships of the Liberty class powered by a traditional triple expansion steam engine powered by four heavy oil boilers.
US built Liberty class cargo ships were the most widely used naval cargo units during World War II. They represented a standard cargo ship model, which thanks to the ease and speed of construction could be built in thousands of units and used in the convoys that supplied US troops and allied countries in Europe. They were destined to make only one voyage, foreseeing the merciless hunt that the German submarines that patrolled the Atlantic gave them. They were armed merchant ships 139 meters long and 17 wide, with a 127mm artillery position in the stern, another installed in the bow and eight anti aircraft machine guns distributed on both sides. Many of them survived the war and were bought by several shipping companies who modified and reinforced them appropriately. The weak point of the hull was given by the welded sheets since the rapidity of construction was privileged over solidity. In 49 days one was built ready to take to the sea and had 46 kilometers of welds on the hull. With extreme sea conditions, however, there was a risk that the ship would break in two. The three Liberty of the Monrovian had been purchased not many years earlier, from an English owner, already reinforced with nailed sheet belts along the entire length of the ship. After these modifications they had become decidedly safer and had an empty displacement of about 7,000 tons and a maximum capacity of 10,000.
Giorgio was assigned to the Bayhorse which was to arrive at the port of Augusta7 the following week so he would have to reach Sicily by train and wait for the ship to arrive. At the agency he was introduced to two other Italian seafarers who had to embark on the same ship. A Second Assistant Engineer and a sailor. They then organized among themselves to leave together as the agency had already prepared train tickets and booked the hotel in Augusta for all three. The journey was interminable for the many kilometers to cover and, in addition, for the waiting time for the ferry boat to cross Messina’s strait. They arrived in the late afternoon at the hotel which fortunately was a few steps from the railway station. It was not a proper hotel but rather a modest family-run guesthouse that seemed clean and often welcomed seafarers waiting for their ship. They dined at a nearby pizzeria and took a stroll around town. Giorgio had never been to Sicily and was looking around rather amazed in the narrow and semi-dark streets of the center, with the ropes of clothes hanging between house and house like a large bunting of underwear and shirts left to dry in the hot night. They saw the sign of a bar in the distance and headed for it. The sailor proposed a snifter and they entered. They ordered three Vecchia Romagna brandy and the attentive bartender with a "immediately gentlemen" placed three saucers with three coffee cups on the counter. Giorgio dared to repeat: " Excuse me but we would like three Vecchia Romagna brandy, not coffee ". " Sure sir " answered the bartender and took a bottle from under the counter and poured three generous doses of brandy into the cups. Seeing the amazed gaze of the three he specified with a smile of complicity: " You know, we don't have a license for spirits ".
The next morning Giorgio got up quite late, so he had nothing to do, and entered the bathroom of his room that the owner had boasted upon their arrival as one of the beautiful rooms with private bathroom. He immediately noticed the squat toilet in front of a shower with a floor drain that aimed at the toilet. Crouching on the squat, he noticed that next to him there was an elegant office basket for waste paper. After using the toilet paper, as usual, he took a shower and went down to have breakfast. He found the other two at the table who were gorging themselves on typical Sicilian sweets and joined them. The owner joined them at the table with three coffees and turned to everyone almost whispered: " Gentlemen, sorry but you have to know that in this area the toilet drains are faulty and easily obstructed, so please use the basket and do not throw the paper toilet in the toilet ". Giorgio ardently hoped that the ship would arrive before the attack of the Klebsiella Pneumoniae8. Fortunately the Bayhorse arrived two days later, but before the dangerous pathogenic bacterium and remained at anchor in the harbor. It was immediately joined by some barges that supplied oil and fresh water. Giorgio noticed that it was much larger than the Old Warrior with its red and black chimney that stood about fifty feet from the water and, seen from a distance, made a good impression. It must have been recently repainted and there were no traces of rust on the emerged part. Later he discovered that during the long ocean crossings the crew was ordered to continuously paint the ship even overboard. By the time they got to the stern the bow was already semi-rusted so they started over. The work was so mechanical and repetitive that the sailors did it automatically without thinking too much about it. It was said that if one had remained standing leaning against a bulkhead before or after the painter sailor would have covered him with paint without noticing.
A motor boat brought them on board and when they reached the deck the sailor was entrusted to the boatswain, the Second Assistant Engineer introduced himself to the Chief Engineer and Giorgio to the Captain. The Bayhorse crew consisted of 28 men. The Captain and officers were all Italians and almost all Ligurians. The non commissioned officers, the steward and the cook were also Italian. The sailors, on the other hand, were of different nationalities: Yugoslavs, Moroccans, South Americans and a couple of Italians.
The Captain, a Genoese who had commanded cruise ships for most of his career, had embarked, almost seventy, to supplement his pension money. Of short stature, stocky and massive, he sported a thick white curly hair and was the only one on board to wear the jacket of the uniform with the rank signs of Captain while all the other officers wore only the white cap and a khaki uniform without signs. He was an avid hunter and had brought on board two 12-gauge long-barreled duck shotguns, a side-by-side and an over-and-under, with a substantial supply of ammunition. When asked why he had his rifles on board, the sneering answer was always the same: "I like tender game" Alluding to both game and young maidens.
Not even to do so on purpose was the destination of the Bayhorse, and as if that were not enough, to load logs in the heart of the Amazon going up the Amazon River. Perfect for the Captain. Giorgio, hearing the news, smiled to himself and thought he would see some good ones.
The captain summoned Giorgio to his cabin which was starboard immediately behind the bridge while the radio station was on the same level to the left and the radio operator's cabin adjacent to the radio station. " Mr. Relli " he began with a cordial but decisive tone that denoted his habit of giving orders to his officers, without weighing his rank, in order to obtain the maximum collaboration. " The shipowner has asked us to report our position by radio at 12:00 every day possibly via Bern radio, fuck he is a Genoese9 that tries to save even the crumbs ". Do you think you could? “
It must be said that sending a telegram by means of a support station other than the destination one has a slightly higher cost. " Captain, Bern radio is a weak station that emits very weak signals and it will be very difficult to communicate directly with them. Even in the Mediterranean I can only do it at certain hours in the evening, in the ocean it will be almost impossible. The telegrams of the position I can only send them via Roma radio and I'm sure I can do it every day on 19 Mhz ".
" Even if you spend some more money ... don't worry about. Another thing, they will let us have the rental contract when refueling in Dakar. However, they also warned me that there are riots and shooting in town, so it is not sure if they will be able to get us the contract. In that case they will send it on by radio, and you will have a hard work " he said smiling. " There will be no problems Captain " he replied and took his leave, shaking the hand that the Captain, satisfied with the answer, held out.
On the second day of navigation, Giorgio tried to communicate with Bern radio and in the afternoon he managed to send the telegram with the position of the ship. The signal was very weak and certainly it was even weaker for the operator from Bern, so much so that he asked Giorgio to repeat one word every two. He thought, chuckling to himself, that he could hardly repeat that cleverness.
Beyond the Strait of Gibraltar, the Bayhorse veered sharply left to south, skirting the African coast about thirty miles away. The sun made the sheets of the deck hot and the cabins were ovens even with all the portholes wide open. A few seagulls rested on the masts and the hull pitched gently across the long sea. Giorgio and the Second Mate were on the bearing compass bridge, the highest on the ship, just below the chimney, playing chess shirtless in swim shorts and the uniform cap on their heads. Without that, their heads would have become pressure cookers that might have improved their way of playing chess but with unpleasant side effects. Neither was much of a fan of that game but it was a great pastime during the long hours off duty. On the bearing compass bridge, the sun beat down with hammer blows but the sea breeze mitigated the unpleasant effects, a little.
A mutual sympathy was established despite the age difference. The second was well over in his sixties but was a dynamic guy with a medium height build, slender and snappy. He was retired and was sailing, too, to round the pension money. He originally was from La Spezia, and spoke mainly in Ligurian dialect with its funny typical chanting. In a short time Giorgio became familiar with that dialect which he found amusing for the chanting it had and that he later discovered to be the same as that of the Portuguese spoken in Brazil.
About fifty miles before Dakar he sent the position via Rome radio and immediately afterwards received a telegram from the shipowner. He ordered to fund in the harbor in Dakar for problems of public order in the city. Refueling would take place as soon as possible and the contract would be sent by radio. He immediately informed the Captain who, shaking his head, muttered: "These people have never peace."
The Bayhorse anchored in the harbor and remained waiting. It was reached after a few hours by a port police boat for the usual checks. The non-commissioned officer in charge of the patrol informed the Captain that they could not dock but that they could refuel in the harbor. Not even the support agent could get on board and also warned that there was an absolute ban on communicating by radio. The radio station had to remain off and in fact they had to seal it for safety reasons. This last obligation was overlooked thanks to a generous series of ten-dollar bills, but the big problem of the rental contract that was to arrive by radio remained. In the evening, shots and the noise of the riots going on in the city,were heard. After consulting the Captain, around two a.m., when he hoped that the police and the rioters tired of the skirmishes had stopped the quarrels and the police had loosened the controls also for radio listening, Giorgio turned on the shortwave transmitter by adjusting it to the frequency where he heard the weak signal from Bern radio and briefly flipped their call-sign HEB, once on the key, hoping for luck which usually helps the bold, but not always. Absolute silence. He repeated the call at five"minute intervals, hoping for the deep sleep of the police radio operators assigned to listen. After about twenty attempts there was a very weak signal of response. He answered with his HOGH call-sign and, using the Q code that shortened the transmission, asked if there were any telegrams for them. To the affirmative answer, the operator told him that he had a long text for him and Giorgio dared, with as short a communication as possible, to warn him of the situation and asked that, during the transmission, at his signal of only two points as an interruption, it be repeated the last word transmitted. The Morse signal of a ship at anchor, due to the power of the short wave transmitter, created interference in all radio receivers for a wide range but, evidently, no one listened to the radio at that time. The text consisted of eleven pages transcribed by hand by Giorgio in capital letters with very small characters. After a few hundred interruptions and consequent repetitions, the contract was received together with the final good luck of the operator from Bern, very kind and patient. It was six in the morning when Giorgio, exhausted, handed the document to the captain and went to his cabin to sleep.
He woke up around two p.m. as the ship was being refueled by a small tanker. All sleepy he went out onto the awning next to his cabin with his eyes half closed from the beating sun that advised him to return to the cabin. Instead, he went up to the bridge and the Captain, as he saw him, addressed him with a smile: " Good morning, Mr. Relli, good job tonight. You arrived just in time, we are about to set sail as soon as we have finished refueling ".
One day the captain gave him his third assignment by handing him the keys of the First Aid room. To the Giorgio's " Why? " he replied amazed : " Listen, you don't have a lot to do all day apart from some particular situation as happened in Dakar. Not having a doctor on board, we need someone to take care of the First Aid room. You know that is only used for plasters, purges and, sometimes, talcum powder for pubic louses. For the rest, God has to take care of us. You will surely be able to do a great job " he said with a chuckle and Giorgio nodded resignedly. Thus it was that, in spite of him, he was forcibly "graduated" as a ship's doctor.
The crossing was peaceful, calm sea, barely an occasional breeze, the sun was beating down hard and the endless chess matches continued. One day, just before noon, when they had left Cabo Verde for several hundred miles, and they were right in the middle of the ocean, a small flock of about twenty turtledoves stopped to rest scattered a little everywhere on the highest bridges and on the masts. They were exhausted from the long crossing from who knows where and perhaps they had lost orientation. To get away from something that frightened them they did not fly away but scurried away. When the Captain saw one, he ran into the cabin to load a rifle and ran out as if he were facing a fierce enemy. Most of the turtledoves had landed on the bearing compass bridge, out of sight of the hunter. He aimed at the one he saw perched on the foremast and fired, missing it. Despite her fatigue, the dove managed to fly away and landed next to her companions on the bearing compass bridge. While the Captain with still one shot in the barrel and the cartridge belt over his shoulder was wandering around the deck looking upwards. Giorgio and the Second Mate were climbing up to play chess and when they reached the top they saw the frightened turtledoves that scampered but that did not have the force to fly away. The idea came to both of them at the same time. At the bow of the chimney there was a perforated wooden platform, about thirty centimeters high, on which the bearing compass was placed. The platform was closed laterally by removable wooden grates. It looked like a coop and was the perfect hiding place for turtledoves. While the second, emitting sounds that are usually good for hens, after removing one of the side grates, tried to persuade the turtledoves to take refuge inside, even if they did not seem very convinced that it was a good idea, Giorgio ran down. to his cabin and returned with a packet of biscuits. Crumbling them, he made a kind of eating trail up to the side opening and threw the rest of the crumbled biscuits into it. Hunger took over fear and in a few minutes all turtledoves entered. Giorgio closed the grate and they began to play chess. There were still a couple of shots but no casualties. Evidently, with age, the old sea dog's aim had deteriorated. Convinced that they had all flown away, the Captain laid down his weapons and with disappointment retired to his cabin. In the following days Giorgio and the second took care to supply the unfortunate birds with food and water until, one day, one of the turtledoves found the courage to go out and after a few strolls it took off. A few seconds later all the others followed her, moving away towards the stern towards Africa.
After a quiet crossing with calm sea and sun at peak, when arrived about 100 miles from the Brazilian coast Giorgio called Macapà Radio to inform them that they were arriving with ETA10 scheduled for the following day at 10:00 at the entrance channel of the river and that they were headed to Manaus. The station replied almost immediately by communicating the obligation to bottom the anchors in the expected waiting area and warning that there may be delays for the pilot's boarding. Giorgio immediately informed the Captain that he nodded with a " Oh fuck! ".
The next day, around the scheduled time, the Bayhorse stopped the engine and turned to put the bow to the wind. While the captain with the mouthpiece warned the Engineer on guard that they were about to drop the anchor, Giorgio from the bridge gave the order "slow astern" and at the bow the boatswain gave the order to release the chain attached to the starboard anchor which ended at sea with a thud and an impressive rattle. Backing up for a hundred meters the ship stopped after having spun four lengths of chain in order to ensure a safe anchorage.
Two days passed of waiting during which Giorgio, every day, communicated their position of anchorage by means of Rome radio. On the third day, perhaps thanks to some animated conversation that took place between the shipowner, who was angry about the ship-stop-which-costs-so-many-dollars and the local port authorities, a boat came up with the pilot who immediately boarded with the agility of a monkey. He was clearly a Brazilian native with typical features, dark skin and rather long, smooth and black hair. He spoke English with the Brazilian chant that made Giorgio smile a little.
The Bayhorse entered the Amazon inlet channel with no problems at the bar as the seabed was regularly dredged. The navigation along the river was smooth even if against the current. The half speed machine moved the ship safely along the practically deserted river. Occasionally some fishing boats passed in the distance but because of the width, it seemed to sail in a huge lake rather than on a river. At certain points near the delta, the channel could measure nearly 200 miles between shore and shore. During the trip the pilot informed the Captain that he would descend at Belem, which was about 270 miles from the mouth and the ship would have to continue along the river to Manaus, for about 800 miles after Belem. There another pilot would get on and take them to the loading point. They arrived in Belem two days later and the pilot waved goodbye and jumped onto the boat that had flanked the Bayhorse without slowing it down. The navigation continued for almost a week during which Giorgio did not know how to communicate with Manaus to warn the pilot but he realized that no notice was necessary. Across Manaus, they were flanked by another boat that started at the same speed as the Bayhorse to allow the new pilot to climb up the rope ladder, which he did as a buccaneer boarding. He too was a native who looked like the twin of the other pilot and spoke English with the same chant. He immediately informed the Captain that the loading point was about 50 miles away in a tributary of the Amazon where the current was stronger than in the main branch of the river. He also suggested that, due to the muddy riverbed with poor grip, it would be better to bottom both anchors and spin a lot of chain. Towards sunset they arrived at the expected point where an old wooden pier, protected by half-destroyed truck tires that, hung with ropes, served as fenders, stretched along the river bank for a hundred meters. The Bayhorse, following the pilot's instructions, overtook the pier and bottomed first the starboard anchor and then the left one, letting the chains spin until it positioned itself on the side of the pier at a distance of about twenty meters from it, where the water was still deep. An anchorage so close to the ground would have been unthinkable in other conditions but the absence of wind due to the dense and high vegetation that looked like a green wall and the sustained current of the river made it possible and safe. At the end of the maneuver the pilot said goodbye and went ashore with a kind of canoe that had come to take him. A few minutes later, the loading agent came out of the only wooden shack on the pier who, with another canoe, boarded the ship and after a brief conversation with the captain, was invited to dinner on board. He was a middle"aged Portuguese who wore a crumpled white linen suit with a light, wide-brimmed hat on his head. Of less than average height, he had a belly so prominent that the buttons of his shirt cursed in an effort to contain it. He ate greedily next to the Chief Engineer, in front of the Captain and explained the local situation in a shrill voice in English with the usual chant. That was the most upstream point where logs were loaded that came floating on the river.
He had taken steps to hire teams of indigenous people who would load the logs, but someone from the crew was needed to maneuver the cranes from board to lift the logs and load them. Other teams of natives would have provided for the stowage. At the end of dinner, the conversation continued, the agent pulled his pipe from one of the deformed pockets of his jacket and almost everyone else lit cigarettes. The steward dispensed some old Captain's-reserve Scotch whiskey, to which George preferred bourbon. Towards the end of the evening, all the topics of conversation exhausted, the agent asked the Captain if he had a cabin available to avoid sleeping in the hut waiting for the boat that would take him back to Manaus the following day. In fact, there was an unused cabin on the life boat bridge and the captain told the steward to prepare it for the guest. Shortly after, the agent withdrew and Giorgio began walking on deck looking towards the shore.
In the moonlight, a thick vegetation could be distinguished that reached the river and at moments one could hear the cry of some nocturnal bird in full activity, probably hunting for food. In the darkness among the dense vegetation life throbbed and Giorgio did not dare to imagine what kind of animals roamed among the thick foliage. The extremely humid heat of the day was very annoying but was dropping slightly with the night. The ship's lights attracted millions of insects of all kinds, flying and not, and Giorgio noticed a huge spider on the main mast that was climbing in pursuit of some prey. Back in his cabin, he took care to close the two portholes before going to bed in his bunk. Better the heat that hosts of that type. He thought that the next day he would try to protect the portholes with sturdy mosquito nets to be able to leave them open day and night.
The following morning, while having breakfast in the officers' lounge, he heard the voice of the agent giving orders in Portuguese to a group of about twenty natives lined up on deck, wearing only a sash of white cotton passed around the waist and between the legs that barely covered their private parts. They were of all ages, some with geometric symbols painted on their faces and bodies while others wore ornamental scars that must have taken a lot of pain in their execution. They listened very carefully like diligent schoolchildren on the first day of school.
In practice the loading was organized in a rather ingenious way and also fairly effective, given the lack of adequate equipment. A hundred meters to the bow of the ship and, at a similar distance, to the stern, two live goats were tied, blocked with lines, in the shallow water of the river near the bank. At a predetermined time, a log was left to the current every 10 minutes from a lateral tributary a few miles upstream, astride two natives armed with paddles. They were huge trunks coming from trees up to 150 feet high, about 30 feet long and with a diameter ranging between 3 and 5 feet. Downstream of the first goat tied into the water, several yards away, the gathering teams were positioned, each consisting of two men armed with hooks. Upon arrival of the trunk, the two natives who rode it would direct it towards the teams who would push it between the pier and the ship where other natives immersed in the water would hook it to a kind of pincer fork which was then hoisted to board from the ship's crane. Once on board the log was lowered into the hold.
When the first log arrived, other natives also arrived both to hook the logs and prevent them from being lost along the river, and to help with the stowage given the considerable weight of each log. In the end, about a hundred men worked on it. Giorgio from the life boat bridge, watched the loading operations with curiosity and amazement since the purpose of the goats half immersed in the river was not clear to him. Another fact caught his attention. Very frequently, men took turns out of the water and arranged the single cloth that wrapped them, squeezing it as much as possible between their legs. The two facts intrigued him and convinced him, the next day, when the agent returned, to ask for the purpose.
The agent, smiling, explained to him that the goats were used to signal the presence of piranhas. On the shore in front of each goat was sitting a little boy who, as soon as he saw the water foaming red with the goat's blood, would have given the alarm screaming, thus giving the men in the water time to get out. The fact instead of the arrangement of the costume, made him smile even more clearly before replying: " You should know that in the river there is, fortunately rarely, a microscopic fish that is even more dangerous than piranhas, here they call it maricon fish11. It swims in almost invisible shoals and penetrates any orifice of the human body. In the case of a man in the water, it inserts himself into the anal orifice and goes up it by eating the tissues he encounters along the way. It causes almost always fatal bleeding, also due to the absence of medical assistance in these areas. " Giorgio amazed thanked the agent for the exhaustive explanations and decided within himself, shivering, that he would never bathe in that river. He also thought of those poor natives who risked their lives for a reward that was certainly less than modest. The indigenous teams worked incessantly from dawn to dusk with only a short break of half an hour at noon. They sat on the shore outside the water to eat some fruit they had brought with baskets.
On the second day the Captain, seeing them eat, ordered the cook to cook a big pot of rice with fish and had it distributed to everyone. They were primitive but good-natured people, extremely polite and respectful. Receiving the unexpected food, they thanked an infinite number of times in a way that even created embarrassment in those who offered it. One of them always went to feed the two boys guarding the goats. The men of the crew who at first, when they saw them get on board, were a bit frightened, had to change their minds given the mild and cordial character of this people and, indeed, many sailors during the breaks tried to make friends and exchanged gifts to the great satisfaction of both sides. The sailors' razor blades were a resounding success among the natives while the sailors greatly appreciated the bracelets and necklaces made by the natives with stones and pieces of bone. A sailor, once, borrowed from an elder indigenous, who seemed the boss and did not work but only watched (and ate most of all), a feather headdress with which he improvised a tribal dance among the laughter of all and especially of the natives.
1Bora ciara: typical bora wind of the gulf of Trieste
2Barba means bear in Italian.
3In Italian, a bad figure is vulgarly said a figure of shit.
4Acquedotto: it is so called the 20thSeptmber Boulevard, in Trieste downtown, plenty of traditional mittel-european styled cafes and very popular with Trieste inhabitants.
5Tambroni was an Italian politician.
6MSI: Movimento Sociale Italiano, extreme right Italian party from 1948 to 1988 afterward turned to National Alliance.
7Augusta: Port of the eastern Sicily
8 Klebsiella Pneumoniae: very dangerous pathogenic bacterium sometimes present in human feces
9People from Genoa are supposed to be very stingy like Scotsmen.
10ETA: Estimated Time of Arrival
11Maricon: in Brazilian and in Spanish means homosexual.
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