He invited him for a drink at the Osteria dell’Orecchia Mozzata, the Tavern of the Severed Ear, and, filling his glass, began to explain his idea.
“It’s pointless to give the mine back to the owner,” he said, “since as soon as he can he’ll put it back where you found it. Instead, if you pay attention to me, we’ll catch so many fish we can flood the markets of the whole coast and become millionaires in a few days.”
It should be known that a little brat named Zefferino, always sticking his nose into everything, had followed the two into the Osteria dell’Orecchia Mozzata, and hid under the table. And having grasped what Grimpante intended to do, he ran away and hurried to spread the word among the poor people of the Case Vecchie.
“Hey, you want to have fried fish today?”
Looking out through the narrow crooked windows were thin, disheveled women with children at their breasts, old men with ear trumpets, grandmothers peeling chicory roots, jobless young men shaving.
“And how? And how?”
“Quiet, come with me,” said Zefferino.
Grimpante, who had stopped off at his house, returned with a violin case and set out with old Bacì. They took the road that went along the sea. Behind them, on tiptoe, came the poor people of the Case Vecchie, the women still in aprons, with frying pans over their shoulders, old cripples in wheelchairs, amputees on crutches, and a pack of kids all around the throng.
When they reached the rocks on the headland, the mine was released into the sea, into a current that carried it toward the open water. Grimpante had taken out of the violin case one of those murderous weapons that fire in bursts and had placed it behind a shelter of rocks. When the mine was in range he began to fire: the shots made a wake of small jets on the water. The poor people, lying on their bellies on the road along the shore, stopped up their ears.
Suddenly a tall column of water rose from the sea where the mine had been. The noise was tremendous: the windows of the villas shattered. The surge came up to the road. As soon as the waters subsided there were the fish, floating, white bellies up. Grimpante and Bacì were casting a big net when they were overwhelmed by the crowd running toward the sea.
The poor people went into the water in their clothes, some with shoes in hand and pants rolled up, some with shoes and all, the women with skirts floating in a circle, and all grabbing the dead fish. Some fished with their hands, some with their hats, some with their shoes, some put them in their pockets, some in their bags. The boys were the quickest, but they didn’t fight: they had all agreed to divide the fish equally. In fact they took care to help the old people who every so often slipped underwater and came up with their beards full of seaweed and little crabs. The most fortunate were the lay sisters, who, advancing in pairs with their veils spread over the surface of the water, dragged the whole sea. The pretty girls every so often cried, “Oh . . . oh . . .” because a dead fish got under their skirts, and the young men dived down to try to catch it.
On the shore people started lighting fires of dry seaweed and the frying pans appeared. They all took small bottles of oil out of their pockets, and the smell of frying fish filled the air. Grimpante had sneaked away so that the police wouldn’t catch him with that firearm in his hands. But Bacì Degli Scogli, with fish, crabs, and shrimp sticking out of all the holes in his clothes, had mingled with the others and was happily eating a raw mullet.
About the Author
Italo Calvino attained worldwide renown as one of the twentieth century’s greatest storytellers. Born in Cuba, he was raised in San Remo, Italy, and later lived in Turin, Paris, Rome, and elsewhere. Among his many works are Invisible Cities, If on a winter’s night a traveler, The Baron in the Trees, and other novels, as well as numerous collections of fiction, folktales, criticism, and essays. His works have been translated into dozens of languages.
Connect with HMH on Social Media
Follow us for book news, reviews, author updates, exclusive content, giveaways, and more.
Footnotes
* Tenth Motor Torpedo Boat Flotilla (Decima Mas): Fascist Marines.
[back]
* * *
* On September 8, 1943, Italy surrendered to the Allies and the Germans took over northern and central Italy, as far south as Rome. Soon afterward the Republic of Salò, with Mussolini as its head, was established by the Germans. Draft orders were promulgated, requiring men of fighting age to report to the republic for military duty.
[back]
* * *
* A reference to the Republic of Salò.
[back]
* * *
* “Ladybug,” in English.
[back]
* * *
Last Comes the Raven Page 22
