Calm on Boat, by Pierpaolo Selleri

Calm on Boat
A Winter Trip at Porto Ercole
by Pierpaolo Selleri

In memory of Massimo Monaci, who tragically disappeared in the Mediterranean Sea

"Juuump!!!!"
    That shout hit the boat. There was an explosion of frenetic frenzy.
    The shouts, the orders pursued and interlaced each others like we did with our bodies, because everybody wanted to do everything.
    Everything was forgotten on that day. And maybe more. The old rusty engine that did not start, the small boat that was in a bad condition, the grey sky, the hard rain that wetted and chilled us, the sea that was really rough after the cape, all those things suggested us to go close to the island for the usual short dive. There were no fishes underwater, the sea was very dirty.
    I go back on the boat, I take off my wetsuit sliding from side to side but when my legs are coming out of it I fall into the sea. Someone tried to climb on the boat from one side and not from the prow or the stern. I go back again on the boat. I would really like to feel the ground under my feet. Instead here I have water coming from everywhere, salty and fresh, water from the sky and... I feel my feet wet, too much wet.
    The dunnage of the boat doesn't float when people are on it, but now the water is over it! As usual, Massimo grasp the situation with a single look and with one hand the sandwich I was going to eat.
    "Farewell dear bread and jam: you came out from my sack but now you are lost in a deep hole. No more I will taste you, farewell!"
    "Bettah to it than us". This is Massimo that, after eating my bread and something else tries to comfort me. So the plug of our boat slipped off and who knows where it has gone. I hope I can resist. Resist to the hunger of course!
    Now we are all on board: the sacks are on the prow with someone that holds them, two of us are on the stern: one is near the engine and another one holds the tank; the fourth is lying down askew on the centre of the boat.
    Lucio lights his millionth cigarette that, as it soon becomes wet, he throws into the sea.
    I see my face looking at the faces of my friends.
    Depressed, grey, sulky. We decide to go back to the harbour sailing around the island.
    I cannot see the sea but the cliffs move up and down, down and up. Maybe that is how the earth shakes when there is an earthquake. I feel tired, I close my eyes.
    "Tie one rope to the seat!"
    "Give me that log line!"
    "Give me the camera, give me the binoculars!"
    "Come on with that engine!"
    "Over there! Over there!"
    "Damn, be quick people! I shoot it! I shoot it! I will damage my rifle but I am going to shoot it from the boat!" Massimo's voice dominates the others.
    Now there is sunshine, the sea is calm, the air is warm and our boat slides fast on the water, the engine works well.
    I stare, we stare at that beautiful body that jumps out of the water a few metres from us, always a few metres from us.
    Massimo leans out of our boat. I am ready to hear the shot. I want to take a picture of the crucial moment of the action.
    Lucio stands up, our boat hits the waves. The fish wriggles and disappears in the foam.
    I put down my camera and Massimo his rifle. We light a cigarette. We reach the land after a long round. We do not feel any more the cold, the water, the tiredness, the sadness; everything is gone with that wriggle.
    Maybe that was not a fish. Surely it wasn't. Maybe it was a siren, who knows. Or maybe it was the soul of the sea, our soul.
    We are in peace with the sea, with ourselves.
    I look at the others and I see them happily smiling.
    Now we are ready for a big helping of spaghetti!

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