The Winter Sea (12 page)

‘But where can I go? I only know about fishing.’

‘And you are a good, hardworking fisherman. Remember the Italian fishing community I told you about just a little south of here, in Wollongong? They are friends of mine and they will help you.’

‘That sounds like a good idea. Maybe after I have stayed there for a while, I can go to Queensland and cut sugar cane to make money.’

‘When you get to Wollongong, find the Riviera family, they will look after you. I’ll send them a message so they will be expecting you.’

‘You know people everywhere,’ said Giuseppe. ‘How can I thank you for the loan of your boat? I am frustrated I can’t keep fishing and selling door to door.’

‘We Italians have to stick together. Get started in Wollongong and then come back here or go to Queensland, but make sure you have money in your pocket.’

‘Why am I always doing the wrong thing? Now I am running away. Or being chased away,’ said Giuseppe, sighing.

‘You are in a new country, with different customs, different ways of doing things. But you’ll find this is a good country with opportunities if you work hard and keep your nose clean – as they say here.’

Giuseppe was sad about leaving Signora Pagano’s boarding house and the friends he’d made there. But when he told everyone at dinner that night what had happened at Sophia’s place as well as the threats he’d received from Con, and raised the idea of going south, they all agreed that it was a wise idea.

‘You take the train, Joe,’ said Signora Pagano. ‘Then look up these Italian fishing people. If they are friends of Signor Bruscioli, they will give you a job, without a doubt.’

The next morning, Antonio and Luciano went with Giuseppe to Central Railway Station with its grand sandstone entrance and large clock tower. They found the right platform and waited with Giuseppe until it was time to board the train.

The three friends embraced.

‘Good luck, Tony, my friend. I hope Queensland works out for you and you don’t have to cut cane for too long!’

‘When the season is over I will come to the ocean and stay with you and we can fish together!’ said Antonio, laughing.

‘Good luck, Joe,’ said Luciano. ‘And look out for the ladies!’

On board Giuseppe stowed his suitcase and pushed open the window to wave to his two friends as the steam engine gathered speed and rolled smoothly away from the station.

The trip passed quickly. Giuseppe enjoyed the spectacular scenery as the train track twisted and turned down steep grades and through tunnels before arriving in Wollongong. The town was situated on a sheltered section of coast beside the blue Pacific Ocean in the shadow of the huge sandstone Illawarra escarpment, which towered above it.

Following Giovanni’s instructions, Giuseppe found the house he was looking for at Brighton Beach, right on the harbour. He could hear voices out the back, so he walked around the side of the large house and found a group of Italians sitting in the back garden. Shyly he asked the men which of them was Franco Riviera.

A weather-beaten Italian dressed in old trousers and shirt but with an assured manner came over to greet him.

‘So you are Joe? My good friend Giovanni has sent you to stay and work here?’

‘Yes, Signor Riviera.’

‘Call me Franco. Giovanni tells me that you are a good fisherman. Tell me about yourself.’

Giuseppe enthusiastically nodded and told him about fishing with his father for the
tonno
and working with Kostas the Greek in Sydney; he told him how Giovanni had loaned him a skiff to fish for himself. ‘But selling my fish door to door was not liked by the local Greek fisherman and the fish shop owners, so I had to stop.’ He did not mention Sophia.

Franco chuckled. ‘Yes, I can believe that. People have to protect their interests, though the housewives would have welcomed you on their doorstep. You like to fish? You like to be on the water? Or is it just a means to make a living?’ Although he asked the question casually, Franco gave Giuseppe an unflinching look, waiting for his answer.

Giuseppe rushed in. ‘How could I look on fishing any other way? Being at sea, understanding the boat, the hunt for the fish and the contest between the fish and me – that is what makes me feel alive!’

Franco nodded. ‘You come from a fishing family, unlike me. I come from Piedmont and I taught myself to fish only when I came to Australia. So you have knowledge passed to you from your father, your grandfather, yes?’

‘Yes, yes. Of course. My brothers, they fish too. But for me . . . it is different.’ He paused, not sure how to explain himself. ‘I sometimes feel I can think like a fish. I know their habits and where they go and when they eat and what they like to eat. And then when I find a fish, it becomes a small war, a battle between the creature in the sea and me. And sometimes if the fish has put up a good fight, a clever fight, then I let him go to fight another day, even though my father says this is bad for business.’ Giuseppe shrugged. ‘I like to use poles and lines, rather than nets, and take on a fish, one on one, but I will do as you tell me.’

Franco cheerfully slapped Giuseppe on the back. ‘You are a fisherman indeed. Giovanni was right to send you to me. Come, let’s join the others.’

The other men clustered around Giuseppe. Amid much laughter and tales of fishing and dramas at sea, they filled him in on life in Wollongong and its prospects for a rosy future.

‘It’s such a great place, people come here from Sydney for their holidays,’ said one enthusiastic Italian.

‘The fishing is truly wonderful,’ said another. ‘Just you wait and see.’

‘Welcome to our club. Welcome to Wollongong!’ they all exclaimed, clapping him on the back.

Giuseppe was overwhelmed by their cheerful welcome and generosity. A woman appeared from the kitchen and announced that the food was ready. For several hours they all lingered over wine and an array of dishes that followed each other, course by course, with plenty of talking and laughter. The women stayed in the background, pleased to see their food being appreciated. Eventually they joined the men and sat around the table to eat the sweet dishes and a platter of fruit. Later, over cups of dark Italian coffee, someone brought out an accordion and they sang the old songs from home.

Night fell and Giuseppe wondered where he could stay for the night. It seemed late to be looking for a room. Perhaps he could sleep on the beach.

Then, as though reading his mind, Franco stood up and said, ‘Joe, you’ve had a long day and I know you are wondering where you will sleep. Come with me and I will take you to a boarding house where other men who work for me also live. I think you’ll find it comfortable.’

Giuseppe collected his suitcase and, after saying goodnight to everyone, followed his new employer out of the yard, fully expecting a long walk to the guesthouse. But Franco stopped beside a car that was parked in front of the house.

‘Hop in. I’ll drive you there and introduce you to the landlady.’

Giuseppe could not believe that Franco was rich enough to own his own car, and that he had invited Giuseppe to ride in it. It was the first time that he had ever ridden in a private motor car.

‘What sort of car is this?’ he asked when they were under way.

‘A Model-T Ford. The most common car around. One day I hope to have enough money to buy a better one, but this will do for the time being.’

Giuseppe thought the Model-T was a wonderful machine; it seemed to fly along the road.

‘This seems pretty good to me,’ he said, trying to sound as though he frequently rode in cars.

But Franco was not fooled. ‘This the first time you’ve been in a car? But you’re right, my Tin Lizzie is good. Easy to drive and easy to fix if it breaks down. Maybe you’ll own one someday, if you work hard and save your money.’

Giuseppe could not imagine such a time.

It took only a few minutes to reach the boarding house and Franco introduced Giuseppe to Signora Casalegno. Giuseppe thanked Franco for his kindness and promised that he would be at the harbour bright and early, ready to start work.

The signora showed him to a pleasant room and, as he fell groggily to sleep after so much good food and too much grappa, he wished he could tell Antonio and Luciano about all that had happened. He felt hopeful about the future, but this time he would be more cautious about his actions. But after his evening with the Rivieras he felt enveloped in the warmth and comfort of familiar customs and habits, generosity and hospitality. It was as if the distance across the sea to his homeland was not so great. He felt as though he belonged.

*

Giuseppe worked the long line fishing with Franco and his crew. Once he was confident Giuseppe knew the sea conditions and after he’d seen how capable he was in the snapper boat, Franco allowed him to go out on his own with just one of his boys.

There were three other Italians living in the guesthouse, all of whom worked for Franco, and they quickly became friends. The guesthouse was owned by the Casalegnos, but it was the signora who made the decisions. She was businesslike and didn’t take a personal interest in her boarders like Signora Pagano had. Signor Casalegno had set up a small bakery and was at work by two each morning. He slept in the afternoon after the bakery closed. The signora made a huge fuss if any of her guests disturbed him, so it was easier to stay away from the house until evening. The three Italian boys showed Giuseppe the best places to visit around Wollongong, going to the beaches or the movies. But there was little that they could teach Giuseppe about fishing and after a few days out in Franco’s boat it was obvious to everyone that Giuseppe was a born fisherman. They knew that his father had taught him well and he had listened to what Kostas had to say about fishing in Australia.

Giuseppe loved what he was doing and enjoyed everything about Wollongong. As the weeks turned to months, he thought less and less about returning to Sydney.

Franco was very sociable and he invited all his employees to the parties he usually threw once a month on a Sunday. As time passed and he came to know Giuseppe better, Franco began to ask him home on the other Sundays to discuss fishing. Giuseppe, spruced up and dressed in his best shirt and jacket, would join the family for Sunday lunch after they’d all been to church. He enjoyed being part of a family again and it was over lunch that Giuseppe learned all about his boss and his successful fishing venture.

Franco had arrived in Australia from Piedmont and, despite coming from the alpine slopes near Turin, his love of the sea and his love of eating fish developed into a passion. He was determined to make a new life in a very different world – that of fishing. He told Giuseppe that when he had arrived in Melbourne he had been mentored by an old Italian fisherman who took him into his business and taught him all he knew. When the old man died with no family in Australia or Italy, he’d left his fishing boat and a ramshackle boathouse to Franco.

‘But there was a lot of competition around Melbourne and I heard that the fishing was good along the coast here, so I brought the boat to Wollongong.’ He smiled. ‘It was the right time. I got in first. Other men are starting to come here to fish, too, but I want to keep ahead of them. To do that I need good people. I think you could help me and if you stay with me, I’ll do the right thing by you.’

‘I am very grateful to you for the opportunity you have given me,’ said Giuseppe sincerely.

‘My son Silvio is not like you. He is not fond of fishing,’ Franco told Giuseppe. ‘But he is a very good salesman and he makes a lot of money with his contacts and his hard work. He always gets the very best prices for my fish.’

Giuseppe knew that Franco also had two daughters –
Maria, who was still at school, and Evalina, who was nineteen and had finished school and now worked at home with her mother.

Evalina was a shy, sweet girl, who spoke English well and did the shopping for her mother. Every Saturday Evalina bought bread from Signor Casalegno’s bakery, which was near the Casalegnos’ boarding house and, if Giuseppe wasn’t working, he often saw her there and walked with her back to the Rivieras’ place.

One Saturday afternoon after Giuseppe had walked Evalina home and carried her shopping back in to her house, Franco called him to come out into the backyard.

‘I’m sorting old lines and nets and tidying my
workshed,’ he explained as they walked across the large yard filled with several nets, boxes and fishing paraphernalia. He indicated an upturned crate for Giuseppe to sit on, next to a bottle of grappa and two glasses. He poured Giuseppe a glass and handed it to him. ‘
Salute
. Thank you, Joe, for being such a help to me and my family.’

‘I am pleased to be able to help you all. You and your family are good people,’ said Giuseppe.

‘I have been thinking,’ said Franco as he lifted his glass. ‘I came to Wollongong before anyone else did to start the fishing business. Now I think there are other opportunities further down the coast. I have purchased another boat and I plan to expand south of here.’

‘You would move from here?’ asked Giuseppe, surprised that Franco would choose to move from Wollongong.

Franco shook his head. ‘Not me. You. What do you think of moving to Whitby Point? It’s not many hours from here and the fishing is excellent. It is further away from the Sydney markets but Silvio is sure that we will be able to compete successfully.’

‘I don’t understand . . . I will go there if there is work you need me to do there. But I know nothing about starting a business.’

‘Of course not. I will help you get started, just as I started here. You will need a couple of good men. If you agree, we can go down and see about getting you set up.’

‘I do not know what to say. It would be a . . . dream,’ began Giuseppe. ‘What will Silvio say about bringing a stranger into the family to run part of the business?’

Franco dismissed this with a wave of his hand.
‘I have another proposition. I want to make you part of my family. How do you feel about marrying Evalina? She has feelings for you and would be agreeable to such an arrangement.’