‘You are very kind. Thank you, thank you,’ said Giuseppe.
‘Giuseppe, and you too, Antonio, I must give you a word of warning. It is hard to come to a new country and start a new life. In Australia things are done very differently from the way things are done in Italy, so be careful not to get into any trouble. You will learn.’
‘I will never forget my welcome to Australia, Signor Bruscioli,’ said Giuseppe, thinking how lucky he was to meet such a good man. He hoped Signor Bruscioli would prove to be as good as his word about finding a job for him.
*
Leaving Vincenzo with his uncle, Giuseppe and Antonio set out for The Rocks to find Signora Pagano’s boarding house. The streets were winding lanes, crowded with narrow-fronted houses, some small shops and a few hotels.
‘I see why this place is called The Rocks,’ said Antonio, looking up at the sandstone cliff that rose above a row of small brick and sandstone houses standing hard against it. They knocked on the door of one of these houses.
The woman who opened the door was short and stoutly built, with grey strands in her dark knot of hair. She threw up her hands and shook her head. ‘I have no room. I suppose you got off the Ricconigi this morning and have come here looking for a bed? Did someone send you?’
‘Signora, Signor Bruscioli sent us. This is my friend Antonio. Soon he will be travelling north. Maybe I will go with him. I am Giuseppe.’ He gave her his best smile. ‘We would like a room for a short time, please.’
‘Well, if that is the case, I have one room. You will have to share,’ she said as she ushered them into the tiny two-storey terrace. ‘You’re Sicilian, eh?’ she asked Giuseppe.
‘Yes. I’m a fisherman. But I will do any work,’ said Giuseppe quickly.
The house was small and dark and Giuseppe could see that the long passageway led to a tiny backyard where a clothesline, propped up by a tall sapling cut with a fork in its top, was strung with washing. Appetising aromas wafted from the kitchen and the house was clean. Their bedroom was compact with two small beds, a nightstand beside each, a trunk at the foot of each bed and a small wardrobe.
Signora Pagano handed them a sheet of paper on which was printed the weekly board, as well as some optional extras such as meals, laundry and ironing. ‘If you want to take the room, I’ll need a week’s rent in advance,’ she told them.
When Giuseppe and Antonio handed her their money, Signora Pagano’s demeanour became more warm and welcoming.
‘I’ll get Luciano for you. He might be useful and help you settle in. He is from Naples,’ she said.
‘We’ve both been to Naples!’ exclaimed Giuseppe.
‘Then you will have something to talk about.’
She went to the narrow stairs and shouted. Luciano, a powerfully built Italian about their age, descended the stairs, and greeted Giuseppe and Antonio like cousins.
‘Hello! You have just arrived? You have found the best home away from home. Signora is our mother. Also our father and nonna. She is the Big Boss.’ He laughed. ‘Do you have any plans?’
‘Antonio is planning to join his relatives in Queensland, in the cane fields. I may go with him if I don’t find any work in Sydney.’
‘What sort of work are you looking for?’ asked Luciano.
‘On a fishing boat. Do you know anyone?’ asked Giuseppe.
‘Maybe. The Greeks run the fishing boats around here.’ He paused. ‘How did you find out about this place?’
‘Our friend’s uncle, Signor Bruscioli, told us to come here,’ replied Antonio.
‘You have important friends then. Perhaps you would like to come with me for a beer and we can talk some more,’ suggested Luciano.
Giuseppe thought about his lack of funds, and decided that if Luciano could help him find work, the investment of a few pennies would be worthwhile. So the three of them set off for the nearest hotel.
‘Where are these Greeks who fish?’ asked Giuseppe as they walked.
‘Around the harbour and over at Manly. Out at Bondi the fishermen sell their catch up on the beach in front of the shops, no one seems to mind. It’s a good place, Bondi. You can take a tram right to the beach. There’s a couple of boatsheds up at Ben Buckler. The Greeks clean the fish and sell them straight to the housewives. Signora Pagano gets me to buy fish at Bondi most Fridays.’
‘Maybe I could exchange fish for board,’ said Giuseppe, laughing. ‘I am a good fisherman!’
‘The Greeks might give you a try. But the Australians won’t. They treat Italians like dirt because they think we’re here to take their jobs.’
Giuseppe remembered the immigration official in Fremantle. He felt disappointed that according to Luciano this attitude was not exceptional and it showed on his face.
‘Not all Australians think like that,’ said Luciano when he saw Giuseppe’s expression. ‘Some of them are good people. You just have to find them.’
*
The corner hotel was dark and quiet. Several men stood at the bar wearing rough clothes, braces showing and with their sleeves rolled up, but they all seemed to have a jacket and hat within easy reach for the homeward trip. Two older men sat rolling cigarettes at a corner table, schooners of dark beer in front of them.
Giuseppe stopped in surprise when he saw a woman behind the bar. She was older than his sisters, and she wore her hair cut short and bright red lipstick. She stopped wiping the wet cloth along the counter and gave Luciano a smile.
‘Hey there, Lucky. You’ve brought a couple of mates along. What’s it to be, fellas?’
Giuseppe and Antonio exchanged looks as Luciano leaned on the counter. ‘Give them the best beer you got on tap, Myrtle. This is Giuseppe from Sicily and Antonio from Sardinia.’
‘Dagoes, I thought as much. Do you good-looking boys speaka da lingo?’
Giuseppe looked at Luciano in bewilderment. He didn’t understand a word she was saying, let alone the fact she was there at all.
‘She’s asking if you want a beer,’ said Luciano.
‘Yes, thank you very much, I would like a beer, please.’ Giuseppe ran the words of the sentence together, which made her chuckle.
‘What’re your plans?’ she asked Antonio.
Antonio, who had virtually no English, had to wait for Luciano to translate. ‘Please tell her that I’m going north, to Queensland.’
When the barmaid had been given the answer, she commented to Luciano, ‘He doesn’t look much like a cane cutter to me.’ She glanced at Giuseppe. ‘And what’s your line?’ she shouted, as she pushed three glasses with thick creamy collars across the counter, as though by raising her voice he would understand what she was asking. ‘Who’s buying?’
Luciano put some coins onto the counter. ‘Me. It’s a welcome to Australia drink.’
‘They staying with the signora? Must be getting a bit crowded down there.’
Myrtle wrung out the beery cloth into the slops bucket under the bar as she studied Giuseppe. He gave her a smile and a cheeky wink. She laughed and said, ‘He’ll do all right. What kind of work you after?’
Giuseppe took a moment to understand she was asking him about work. ‘I am a fisherman. I want to work on a fishing boat.’
‘Lot of fish in the sea here,’ Myrtle replied and yelled across to one of the old men in the corner. ‘Hey, Wally, this young fellow wants to work on a fishing boat. Know anybody?’
The old man took a long drag on his cigarette. ‘Might. S’long as he pulls his weight. Uses his muscles and not his mouth.’
Giuseppe put his beer down and went over and extended his hand. ‘I am Giuseppe d’Aquino. I fish with my father, we catch the big tuna.’
Wally seemed a bit taken aback by his claim. ‘You want to work on a boat? Hard yakka, mate.’
‘Hard yakka? What is that?’ Giuseppe asked.
‘Bloody hard work,’ was the answer.
‘I work plenty hard,’ Giuseppe replied.
Wally’s companion shrugged. ‘Could send him down to Co
n. He’s always whingeing about his crew slacking off.’
Wally signalled to Luciano. ‘Hey Lucky, get your mate to go down to Con’s at Balmain. He’s got a couple of fishing boats. Could be something there.’
Giuseppe didn’t quite follow all of this, but he nodded enthusiastically and turned to Luciano. ‘Where do I go?’
‘I’ll draw you a map, luv,’ called Myrtle. ‘I know the area.’
Giuseppe tried to thank the two men, but they had turned back to their drinks. He swallowed his beer and drew a breath. ‘This birra, is strong, eh?’ he said to Myrtle. ‘You have vino?’
‘Wine? This is a pub, luv, only alkies drink that sort of stuff, usually out of a brown paper bag,’ Myrtle said.
When Luciano had explained what Myrtle had said, Giuseppe looked around at the empty bar and commented, ‘No wonder nobody is here to drink.’
Luciano smiled. ‘You wait till five. Then Myrtle gets really busy.’
She grimaced. ‘Runs me off me feet, the bloody six o’clock swill. Place is like a pigsty. Get your mates outta here before then,’ she advised.
‘What is this six o’clock swill?’ asked Giuseppe.
‘Pubs all shut at six,’ replied Luciano. ‘It’s the law. So when everyone finishes work they hit the pub, line up as many beers as possible and drink them as fast as they can.’
‘That is crazy,’ Giuseppe told Myrtle.
‘You got that right,’ agreed Myrtle. ‘Drink fast and go home sozzled. Give their families hell. Here. This is the address and directions to Balmain.’ She gave Giuseppe a dirty piece of paper with a map scrawled on it. ‘And,’ she added, ‘can you give this to Signora Pagano, too?’
To the young men’s shock she put her hand down her blouse, pulled out an envelope and handed it to Luciano.
‘These are her winnings from the fourth last Saturday. Don’t lose them!’
Confused, embarrassed and having no idea what Myrtle was talking about, Antonio and Giuseppe backed out of the bar.
‘Her boss is the local SP bookie,’ said Luciano. He explained that people were only allowed to bet on the horses at the race track, so the publican took bets for his customers who couldn’t get there.
‘Of course,’ he admitted, ‘it’s illegal to do this, but lots of people do it, in pubs, barber shops, tobacconists. The police mostly turn a blind eye.’
‘Myrtle is a kind lady,’ said Giuseppe.
‘Barmaids are not ladies,’ said Luciano. ‘It’s not something we would like our mothers and sisters doing.’
‘So you don’t see proper ladies in there?’ jumped in Antonio.
‘Not really,’ said Luciano lightly. ‘When women come into a pub they have a special room to drink in.’
‘Well, I thought Myrtle was nice,’ said Giuseppe. ‘But maybe I should try Bondi first. I’ll find Con later if I need to. Do you want to come too, Antonio?’
‘No, I think I’ll go and find Vincenzo. I’ll meet you for dinner tonight.’
Luciano told Giuseppe where to get the tram for Bondi and how much he would need to pay so Giuseppe had little trouble in finding the beach.
His first sight of Bondi Beach as the tram turned down Bondi Road took his breath away. He’d seen some beautiful bays and beaches in his homeland, but this huge expanse of golden sand flanked by rocky headlands caught him by surprise.
No wonder it was crowded with people enjoying themselves. There were motor vehicles parked along the foreshore. People were strolling along the promenade and children were building castles in the sand. There were places to eat and drink, tea rooms and hotels and a great many shops. The colours were so bright and the whole place had a holiday atmosphere. Yet it was still so close to the city.
Giuseppe saw a tea room called Ravesi’s, and walked over to it. He asked the Italian waiter working there where he could buy fresh fish.
‘There’s a Greek fish shop down the road, but you can also buy directly from the fishermen down on the beach or over by the rocks. They sell right from their boat. They should still be about,’ he told Giuseppe.
Giuseppe found a small boatshed and a clutter of boats, nets, ropes, baskets and boxes piled on the beach. There were men sitting around talking and smoking as they cleaned up from the night’s catch and morning’s fish sale. They all seemed to be Greek.
Giuseppe crouched down and poked through the last box of fish, which had been passed over by customers. ‘These for bait?’ he asked.
‘Help yourself,’ said a large man. ‘You want to fish? Or to eat?’
‘I like to do both,’ said Giuseppe in careful English. ‘I’m looking for work.’
‘You an Italian boy? Just arrived, hey?’
‘Si. Giuseppe d’Aquino. From Sicily. My father is a fisherman.’
To Giuseppe’s surprise the large Greek answered him in Italian. ‘I am Kostas. I have worked with Italian men in Australia. They show us all the tricks and places. You worked on a trawler?’
‘No. My father and brother have a barca . . . but we catch some big tuna. I am the capo,’ said Giuseppe proudly. ‘I work hard. What fish do you go after here?’
‘You’d be surprised what’s out there. The harbour is good, and there’s plenty of shellfish around the rocks. Rock fish. Outside the harbour, in places close to shore, we chase the big schools when they come by. My cousin has a trawler. Fantastic boat. But the sea out there,’ he lifted his chin towards the ocean, ‘she can be cruel.’
Giuseppe listened, nodding with interest. He knew that in these foreign waters there would be many species of fish he was unfamiliar with but he had no doubt he could work as hard as anyone else to catch them.
‘I want very much to work, to learn. I am happy on the water.’
Kostas laughed and turned to the other men and spoke to them in Greek. Then he said to Giuseppe, ‘Why should I hire you, a new kid who knows nothing of these waters? I know a dozen kids, family and friends of friends, I could hire.’
‘They don’t love the sea as I do! I learn fast, I can find fish and I work hard. I am strong. I can do many things. I will clean the fish, wash the boat, fix nets and ropes. Clean the bottom of the boat . . . anything you ask.’
Kostas held up his hand. ‘After you clean the fish, can you sell the fish? Tell the housewives how to cook this fish?’ He raised his dark bushy eyebrows.
Giuseppe wasn’t sure if he was making a joke or if that was part of the job. ‘I prefer to catch them and then eat them after they are cooked by a beautiful woman.’
Kostas roared with laughter. ‘I don’t think you’d have much trouble selling fish or anything else. But I want to see you catch them. Come here tonight ready to go fishing. We go for snapper and flathead.’ He held out his hand. ‘Come out on a trial run with us. We’ll see how you go.’
‘Thank you, thank you.’ Giuseppe eyed the small scrappy fish left in the box. ‘How much for some for my dinner?’
Kostas scooped up a handful of the little fish and rolled them in newspaper. ‘Here, take them.’
Giuseppe thanked him and sprinted back to the tram.
At the boarding house he handed the fish to Signora Pagano. ‘For supper. And if I get a job fishing with Kostas, we will eat many, many fish!’ he exclaimed proudly.
‘I will make zuppa di pesce for dinner tonight.’ She smiled at Giuseppe. ‘I hope you get the job with the Greeks.’
*
It was a calm night and turned out to be a lucky one. They went out from Ben Buckler and lined the boat up with part of the headland. Kostas used live bait from the tin bucket and he showed Giuseppe the best lure and lead to use.
‘Better to let the bait swim so the lead drags along the bottom. Give him a jig up and down every so often to get the flathead’s attention. He might make a couple of runs before he takes the bait, but he comes up easy if he swallows it. But if he comes to the boat, don’t pull his head out of the water, he’ll panic and shake his head and chew through the line. Wait to net him. You understand?�
� explained Kostas.
It wasn’t long before Giuseppe caught his first flathead.
‘It’s not so big,’ he said, feeling disappointed.
‘It’s all right. Plate size tastes better than the big ones. Look out for the spike here on the head,’ said Kostas, quickly piercing the flat skull of the dark speckled fish.
The evening sped by. Giuseppe was happy to be back on the water and catching fish. They moved around to a few favoured spots, landing some silvery pink, bump-headed snapper and some flounder. He was amazed by the different species they caught and quickly realised how the seabed varied from reef to sandy weed and deeper holes. Giuseppe asked Kostas lots of questions and learned rapidly. The other three crew kept to themselves, though they seemed friendly and encouraging enough. In the early hours Kostas headed back to shore.
Giuseppe looked at the waves crashing on the rocks around the headland. ‘This is a good place for shellfish?’
Kostas nodded. ‘But dangerous. People get washed away. You have to know the tides and be careful of rogue waves.’
Giuseppe nodded and resolved he would have to study this coastline and learn as much as he could. He hoped that Kostas would hire him and then he could save money and invest in his own fishing gear.
Once they had brought their catch to shore, Kostas told Giuseppe to clean the fish. The men worked fast, so that by the time the sun came up all was ready for the first buyers. They mainly came from the local restaurants and fish shops around the eastern suburbs but also from the city. Kostas did all the selling.
When all the fish had been sold, Kostas handed Giuseppe some money.
‘You did okay. I saved a small snapper for you so you know how it tastes. If you want, come back tonight,’ he said.
Giuseppe broke into a wide smile. ‘I have a job fishing with you?’
‘For the time being,’ said Kostas.
Within a week Giuseppe had become one of Kostas’s permanent crew.
*
The following Friday afternoon, Giuseppe decided to visit Giovanni Bruscioli and share the good news that he was working as a fisherman.
The Winter Sea Page 7
