CHAPTER IV-THE WINE-SHIP
Table of Contents Peppino usually took half an hour off and came about noon to wherever I was sketching to fetch me to lunch. One morning as we walked along nearly every man we met smiled and said to him-
"Buona festa, Peppino," and he smiled and returned their salutes with the same words. He accounted for it by saying it was his onomastico-the day of the saint whose name he bears.
"What?" said I, "is it S. Peppino and you never told me? I wish you many happy returns of the day. But it cannot be everybody's onomastico as well, and you say 'Buona festa, Peppino' to all who speak to you."
He replied that it was the 19th of March, the festa of S. Giuseppe, and assured me that he had said "Buona festa, Peppino" to no one who was not a namesake; so that about two-thirds of the men at Castellinaria must have been baptized Giuseppe.
"Then that explains it," said I. "I was beginning to think that you might have become engaged to be married and they were congratulating you."
That did not do at all.
"I got no time to be married," said he, "too much busy. Besides, marriage very bad thing. Look here, I shall tell you, listen to me. Marriage is good for the woman, is bad for the man: every marriage makes to be one woman more in the world, one man less. Did you understand? And they are not happy together. We have a bad example in this town."
"Surely you don't mean to tell me that here in Castellinaria, where everything moves so smoothly and so peacefully, you have an unhappy married couple?"
He replied solemnly, slowly and decidedly, "Not one-all."
He continued in his usual manner, "Did you read the ten commandments for the people who shall be married? If to find, shall be showing you. It says, 'Non quarelate la prima volta.' Did you understand? 'Don't begin to quarrel,' because you will never stop. After the quarrel you make the peace, but it is too late: the man shall forget, perhaps, but the woman shall forget never, never, never, and you have lost.
"I was telling to my friend," he continued, "'Please do not be married, because when you would be married you would not love any more that lady.' And he was telling to me that he would marry, because it would be a good thing for him, good wife, good food, good care and many things like this. And I was telling to him, 'I would be seeing if you shall be repeating these words when you shall be married one year.' The year was passed but my friend he don't be saying nothing to me. Excuse me, I am not so bad man to ask him. I found him many times in the street, but he would not meet me, would not speak. Oh, no! And he is not laughing any more. Not one friend; fifteen friends, all married. Never they are telling they are happy."
Having disposed of the question of marriage he told me that Carmelo had been to see me and would call again. He had already been several times, and I was puzzled to know what he wanted. He could hardly be wanting to propose an excursion, for I had already made him get leave and take me for several. But as, sooner or later, an opportunity must occur for clearing up the mystery, I left it alone for the present and asked Peppino, who always knew everything that was going on in the neighbourhood, what ship it was I had seen coming into the bay and making for the port.
He said she was the Sorella di Ninu, returning from Naples, where she had been with a cargo of wine. He knew because she belonged to his cousin Vanni, who was a wine merchant and, if I would give up a morning's sketching, he would give up a morning's work, take me down to the port, introduce me to his cousin and show me over the ship.
Accordingly next morning Carmelo got leave from his padrone and drove us down the zig-zags among the flowers while Peppino told me about his cousin. His father had two brothers, one was the father of Vanni and used to keep a small wine shop down in the port and Vanni, who had a voice, studied singing and went on the opera stage. The other brother emigrated to America and never married. Very little was heard of him, except that he was engaged in some speculative business, until at last news came of his death. Had he died six months before, he would have left nothing, but it happened that the markets were favourable and he died rich. After the usual delays, his money came and was divided between his surviving brothers. Vanni's father enlarged the wine shop, bought vineyards and a ship, took his son away from the stage and sent him to the University. In course of time he enlarged his business and took Vanni into partnership. Peppino's father gave up being sagrestano, bought vineyards and the Albergo della Madonna (con giardino) and educated his son. The part of Peppino's education that was most useful to him was his two years in England, and that did not cost his father anything, for he would only take money enough for the journey and all the time he was away he kept himself and saved, so that he not only repaid his father and paid for his journey home but had money in the bank.
By this time we had arrived at the quay and Peppino went off to his uncle's shop for information as to approaching the Sorella di Ninu, leaving me alone with Carmelo. He seized the opportunity.
"I have been to see you several times because I wanted to tell you that I also have been in prison."
"Hullo! Carmelo," I said, "have you been trying to murder your father?"
"No," he said, "it was not my father. It was a friend. We quarrelled. I drew my knife and stabbed him in the arm. It happened last year."
I sympathized as well as I could and assured him that it should make no difference in the relations between us.
Why did I say this? Why was I so indulgent towards Carmelo and so implacable to Rosario? It seems as though an Englishman may also be a mass of contradictions. It is true that parricide is perhaps the most repulsive form that murder can take, but I do not think this had anything to do with it, for ordinary murder is sufficiently repulsive. I believe I was influenced by a conversation we had had during our last expedition; Carmelo had told me that he intended soon to leave private service, to marry and go into partnership with Rosario.
"But, Carmelo," I had objected, "would not that be rather risky? Don't you remember that Rosario has been to prison for trying to kill your father?"
"Oh, that all happened a long time ago and Rosario has married and settled down since then."
Evidently Carmelo had thought this over and had felt uncomfortable that I should shun Rosario for being a jail-bird and not shun him who was one also. It seemed to indicate considerable delicacy of feeling on his part and I was pleased with him for taking so much trouble to get the confession off his chest. Whereas Rosario had treated his disgrazia as merely an annoying little accident that might happen to any gentleman.
Peppino returned, stood on the quay and shouted to the ships; presently a small boat containing Vanni and a sailor detached herself from the confusion and rowed to our feet. I was introduced and, amid the usual compliments, we took our seats and glided past the Sacro Cuore, the Due Sorelle, the Divina Provvidenza, the Maria Concetta, the Stella Maris, the La Pace, the Indipendente, the Nuova Bambina and many more. Peppino called my attention to the names of the ships and said how commonplace and dull they were after the romantic names he had seen on the beach at Brighton. He gave, as an instance, Pride of the Ocean, which I remembered having often seen there; it was all very well, but somehow it had never impressed me as hitting the bull's-eye of romance. During their voyage through time the words of one's own language become barnacled over with associations so that we cannot see them in their naked purity as we see the words of a foreign tongue. I translated Pride of the Ocean into Vanto del Mare and offered it to Peppino; it seemed to me to gain, but he said I had knocked all the poetry out of it. One of the ships was the Riunione dei due Fratelli. I inquired whether the brothers had quarrelled and made it up.
"Yes," said he, "that is the worst of family quarrels; they do not last."
"What do you mean, Peppino? Surely it is better for brothers to be friends than to quarrel?"
"If to be friends inside also, then is it a good thing and much better; but look here, excuse me; the brothers are quarrelling and fighting and are failing to kill each others and the parents are telling to don't be quarrelling and the brothers are telling that they would be quarrelling and the parents are telling to don't be stupid and to embrace and became friends and the brothers are telling, Go away, parents, and to leave alone to be quarrelling in peace. But it is too difficult and many months are passing and the brothers are-please, what is stanchi? Excuse me, it is fatigued, and are embracing to make pleasure to the parents and to make riunione outside and to baptize the ship, but inside it is riunione not at all. It is to kiss with the lips and the heart is hating each others. This is not a good thing."
The boat with the name that pleased me best was not there. Peppino told me about it: it belonged to him before the money came from America and he used it to ferry tourists across the bay and into the bowels of the promontory through the mouth of a grotto where the reflected lights are lovely on a sunny day; he called it the Anime del Purgatorio.
This would have been just the morning to visit the caves, for...
