Nomad

Martino continued to scan the water calling out on occasion, though he knew it was futile as he was certain that there would be no survivors from this wreck, while Marco and his brother had already towed the body he had found earlier to the other side of the bay so that there was only debris left floating towards the shore which they could more easily gather in the morning. Winded from his swim Michael pulled himself with difficulty onto the dock. The exercise having exhausted him, he lay there looking towards the heavens and remembered the astronomy book which L'Esperia had brought him. Watching the stars, and letting his mind drift towards them, it was some time before the rowboat startled him out of his dreams with the dull thud it made when it hit the dock and he stood up. "Find anyone?" he asked. Marco pulled himself to the dock and Gian followed, "no," they said, "only bodies." "How many?" asked Michael. "Five," replied Gian. "We found one, my brother another and Rodolfo three." Michael looked at the moon and suggested, "there's probably more out there." "Aye, but no live ones," remarked Marco, "we'll find the rest in the morning." "Right," said Michael with the same subdued tone Marco used. "Who were they?" he asked. "Don't know. Sailors. Sailors all." "Aye, sailors all," echoed Gian. "We'll bury them properly in the morning," enunciated Michael trying to raise their spirits. "There's little else we can do." Rodolfo was waiting for his shipmates on the grass near the dock and they all filed towards the inn as the rain abated and Michael ran to fetch his shirt and boots then sprinted up the hill after them only catching up to them at Cosimo's door. "Hey! hey!" shouted Cosimo with wine in hand as Francesca's fiddle livened the room despite her sorrow. "Have some wine, you must be cold." By the fire Sarah sat fawning over Piero as he swilled from a mug, and Pia and Vecchiardo sang at the table next to Nonna who hummed along soaking-in the merriment. All the joy in the room could do nothing but liven the spirits of the crew of L'Esperia who were soon taking long draughts of wine delighting in the festivities and feeling that a week at sea was reason enough to be merry upon their return home despite the strange wreck in their bay. Only Lina fussed about her grown son, who was soaked to the gills and still slogging at the wine as she dried his hair while he tried to get away and only added to her fussing until Pia called her to their table. "Sit with us and leave the boy alone," said Pia playfully. "He's a grown boy now, mum, you have to let him be." Their clapping rhythm lent ardour to Francesca's fiddle and the singing grew more raucous as they stomped their feet and enjoyed the party. Lina danced with Cosimo and Pia with Vecchiardo, and they were soon joined by others who stomped and hopped to the glee of all. As the song's crescendo reached its climax Francesca climbed atop a table and flailed her hair to the side to better see her audience. Then with a flourish reserved for a woman in love with her fiddle, she threw her arms out and closed her performance to a tumult of applause and was the first to notice the rain soaked stranger standing in the doorway. As the crowd's attention turned towards the doorway Cosimo pulled the stranger from its frame and latched the door shut behind him while all inside remained quiet and only the rain's drops on the roof above could be heard punctuating their discomfort. The troubled crowd stood dumbfounded and speechless wondering how this man could have found his way to shore and as Vecchiardo motioned to speak Marco beat him to it and said, "Welcome!" then was interrupted by his elder. "Welcome to our village, stranger," Vecchiardo said without displaying any malice hoping to encourage the crowd that awaited his approval before inviting the drenched stranger to sit.