Tales From The Little, Illustrated, Golden Library - Tales of the Sea - The Ghost Ship - Emilio Salgari - Eighth Story
THE GHOST SHIP
MEMO
The following text may present outdated depictions that are in no way or form shared by the translator themself, and neither are they shared by the original author of these stories.
Please understand that these stories' depictions are a depiction of their time.
A good translator strives to transfer the originality, tone, and idea of a text from its language of birth to its guest language, all the while respecting the intent and style of the original author.
These translated texts do not intend to bring offense, but just to share the adventures
written by Captain Emilio Salgari.
Adventures inspired by his love for traveling around the world, especially to far, foreign lands, his passion for ships and sailing in general, as well as his endless curiosity about other cultures and what's out there, beyond the horizon line.
VOCABULARY
spur or ship's ram = an underwater prolongation of the bow of the ship to form an armoured beak. (Source. 28.10.2025).
prow = may be used as a synonym for the more commonly used term, bow*, but it can also mean the most forward part of the bow that is above the waterline (the waterline is where the body of a ship meets the water). (Source. 17.10.2025).
*bow = the most forward point of a boat or ship. (Source. 17.10.2025).
bowsprit = a *spar extending forward from a ship's prow. (Source. 28.10.2025).
*spar = a pole of wood or metal used in the rigging** of a sailing vessel to carry or support its sail. (Source. 28.10.2025).
**rigging = term used for the system of ropes, cables, and chains, which support and control the sailing ship's masts and sails. (Source. 28.10. 2025).
roller = a big, wide wave. (Source. 28.10.2025)
tack (nautical term; synonyms: come about. The Italian term is virare (di bordo)) = to change a ship's direction. (Source. 30.10.2025)
counterbrace = to brace* in opposite directions. (Source. 30.10.2025).
to brace = a rope reeved* through a block** at the end of a yard***. (Source. 30.10.2025).
*to reeve (something) = to pass (a rope) through a hole or opening, especially so as to fasten it. (Source. 30.10.2025)
** block = a case or frame housing one or more pulleys, used with ropes to increase or redirect force, for example as part of lifting gear or a sailing ship's rigging. (Source. 30.10.2025).
*** yard = long tapered timber hung on a mast to which is bent a sail. (Source. 30.10.2025)
rigging = the ropes, chains, etc., that support the masts and spars of a sailing vessel, and serve as purchases for adjusting the sails. (Source. 30.10.2025)
mast = a tall, slim post or tower, usually tapering upward, used to support sails or observation platforms on a ship. (Source. 30.10.2025)
mainmast = the tallest mast of a sailing ship that has more than one mast. (Source. 30.10.2025).
Note: alternative spelling: main-mast.
contropappafico (an archaic Italian nautical term; present-day term is controvelaccino) = the royal yard or sail of the foremast*. (Source. 30.10.2025)
foremast = the mast nearest the bow, on a sailing ship with more than one mast or a non-sailing ship with any masts. (Source. 30.10.2025)
Note: I haven't been able to find the exact English equivalent of contropappafico, nor for its more modern equivalent, controvelaccino. I am not sure, but it could be that its English equivalent is topgallant sail. A topgallant sail is a square-rigged sail immediately above the topsail (the latter one being a sail rigged just above the course sail and supported by the topmast on a square-rigged sailing ship). (Source 1. 30.10.2025) (Source 2. 30.10.2025).
yardarm = the outer end of a yard, often equipped with blocks for reeving signal halyards*.
*halyard = a rope used to raise or lower a sail, flag, spar or yard. (Source. 30.10.2025)
bulwark = the planking or plating along the sides of a nautical vessel above her gunwale* that reduces the likelihood of seas washing over the gunwales and people being washed overboard.
(Source. 30.10.2025).
*gunwale = the top edge of the hull of a nautical vessel, where it meets the deck**. (Source. 30.10.2025)
**deck = the floorlike covering of the horizontal sections, or compartments, of a ship or boat. Small vessels have only one deck; larger ships have two or three decks. (Source. 15.01.2026)
gangway, gangplank or passerelle (from French) = platform used as a temporary bridge in order to board or leave a large yacht. (Source. 30.10.2025).
port = left side of a ship (Source. 30.10.2025)
starboard = right side of a ship (Source. 30.10.2025)
have someone clapped (or cast) in irons = to put one in jail, often abruptly. "Irons" refers to shackles or handcuffs. (Source. 30.10.2025)
hawser = a cable or heavy rope used to tow or moor a ship, but also an unit of measure. A hawser is the equivalent of a tenth of a mile, that is 185 metres.
grapnel or grappling hook = a small anchor. (Source. 30.10.2025).
ratline = any of the cross ropes between the shrouds*, which form a net-like ropework, allowing sailors to climb up towards the top of the mast. (Source. 30.10.2025)
*shroud = one of a set of ropes or cables attaching a mast to the sides of a vessel or to another anchor point, serving to support the mast sideways. (Source. 30.10.2025)
hatchway = a means of passing through a wall or floor, having a hatch* (especially on a ship).
*hatch = a horizontal door in a floor or ceiling; as a nautical term, it refers to an opening through the deck of a ship or submarine;
dinghy ( dinghies is the plural form) = small rowing boat, used by larger ships for service or as support to them. They are also called ship's tender or just tender. (Source 1. 17.10.2025) (Source 2. 17.10.2025).
topmast = the highest mast in a fore-and-aft-rigged ship; or the mast below the topgallant mast in a square-rigged ship. (Source. 04.11.2025)
Note: Unfortunately, as I don't know what kind of ship is the Ferdinando Cortes, I'm not sure which one of these is the correct mast that Captain Salgari is referring to.
master (mariner) = a sailor who is qualified to be a captain of a merchant ship. (Source. 04.11.2025)
🚢👻🚢
It had been fifteen days since we had left the coasts of Africa to head to Pernambuco, one of Brasil's most beautiful ports, as well as one of the most dangerous ones, because during every year's warm season the yellow fever kills a noteworthy amount of people, with what seems to be a preference for Europeans.
Over the course of those two weeks, weeks spent in a suffocating heat, we had not come across any other ship, nor did any island greet our gaze, a sight that would have cheered us up immensely and that was more than welcome, as we were tired of watching that endless, liquid plain.
Water, sky, and then more water and more sky and a heat that would drive one crazy. How terrible is that scorching area, where one cannot take a breath of fresh, cool air, not even during the night!
And the coasts of Brasil were still so far away, because of those extremely weak winds, that were giving our ship the speed of a snail.
On the sixteenth day, finally, a rather strong wind rose, and the sky covered itself with clouds as black as a tar, announcing one of those storms, that are quite dangerous under that burning weather.
The sea was starting to rise. That liquid surface, that up until then was as clear as an endless, incandescent, metal slab, would break here and there, lifting up quite violent waves, the latter chaotically staggering us, much to the dismay of our stomachs.
Nonetheless, we all happily greeted that hurricane that was bringing coolness, as well as, probably, a long-awaited heavy downpour.
No one was concerned about the dangers, anyway, we had complete faith in our captain's abilities, as well as in our ship's nautical capabilities.
The hurricane was gathering strength more and more by the minute. From the south, clouds were rushing, accumulating in a whirl, the light dying out as they did so.
An odd darkness was spreading thourought the sea, sometimes broken by bright lightnings* of odd tints.
Our ship, after so many calm days, had resumed its fast pace, lashing out at the waves with its spur, as well as with its bowsprit every now and then.
The ocean was foaming mightily, raised up by a damn strong, suffocating, warm wind, that was blowing over from the scorching area.
Immense rollers were hurling themselves in all directions, with deafening roars, as they splashed foam on us.
It was seven in the evening, the darkness intensifying, when we heard a shout:
"Ship ahead!"
The encounter of a sailing ship, especially in areas that are rarely frequented, is always a noteworthy event.
We all rushed to the prow in order to better observe it and get a feel of its general direction, as collisions are frequent even on the ocean.
The signaled vessel was an entirely black ship, of a heavy build, and with its lower sails unfurled.
It was coming from the west and heading to the east, cutting us off. Though we kept searching for its crew members whenever lightnings lit up its deck, we couldn't see anyone, not even at the helm.
"How strange...!", the captain exclaimed. "It would seem as if that ship had been abandoned by its crew."
Indeed, that vessel wasn't following a well-defined course. It zigzagged, climbing up and down the waves, without executing any maneuvers that would help it take advantage of the wind.
The captain, rather disturbed, gave us the order to be prepared to tack, because, had we kept moving forward, there would have been a slight possibility that we could have either collided with it or just get hit by it.
An incredible intense anxiety took over us. Where was that ship going? What men were leading it and how come they hadn't seen us even though the sky was incessantly cut through by blinding lightnings?
Suddenly, the shadow of a doubt creeped in into our hearts. We all had heard about the infamous ghost ship, that many sailors claimed to have seen in less frequented waters.
Was that vessel led by none other than the cursed Dutchman, who, as punishment for having denied God, was condemned to eternally traverse the oceans among lightnings, thunders, and tempests?**
A superstitious terror invaded all of us as our frightful gazes fixed on that ship, which was racing over the crests of the waves, with no man at the helm nor ever changing sail.
Even our captain, who was known for his bravery, seemed deeply disturbed.
Fearing a collision, he gave out an order to counterbrace the sails and to be prepared for anything and everything, because we couldn't take for granted that that wasn't a ship led by pirates.
Meanwhile, that vessel kept closing in, brusquely changing directions. As it did, we pointed our spyglasses to its deck, trying to figure out if there was truly no one aboard that ship.
The lightnings had become so frequently that we could see better than we would during the day, and, whether it might have been just a random coincidence or not, they seemed to have a particular affinity for flashing right above that ship.
Suddenly, I heard a nearby officer tell me:
"There's someone on that ship!... Did you see them?"
"I didn't see anyone.", I answered him.
"Look at the bottom of the mainmast. It look as if a man was tied up there."
"And there's one that's been hanged from the royal yard of the foremast!", shouted a sub-officer, whom was standing up on the bulwark. "Look! Look! The wind is moving him from side to side!"
A shudder of terror shook us.
Hanging from the yard pointed out by the sub-officer, we had, in fact, noticed a human figure that the strong wind was furiously swinging from side to side.
"It's a hanged person!", the sub-officer reiterated.
"Beware!", another sailor, with a white beard, spoke up. "It's the legendary ghost ship, the Flying Dutchman!"
"Silence!", thundered the captain, whom had never believed in the existence of the cursed ghost ship. "Stay ready to tack! Go!"
Our ship had just strayed from its primary course, when the other vessel, pushed by the waves and the wind, passed in front of our prow with lightning-quick speed, quickly disappearing in the darkness.
The lightnings had suddenly stopped and we had gone from a night on fire to one as dark as the bottom of a well.
I had approached the captain, whom was standing up on the gangway, seemingly trying to still espy that ship.
"What do you think, Sir?", I asked him. "Could it be that the legendary ghost ship isn't just a legend?"
The captain gave me a sarcastic smile as he answered me:
"I don't believe in ghost ships, however..."
"You believe something else."
"Let's leave the superstitions to the sailors.", he replied, shaking his head. "What worries me the most is a possibile collision with that ship. In this darkness, it could come back and clash with our prow as it does."
"But it was heading east!"
"If nobody is steering it, the wind, which is already prone to changing, could push her towards us again."
"What do you think it could be? A pirate ship?"
"No, just a ship abbandoned by its crew."
"And that hanged man?"
"Ah! Yes! I had forgotten about him!", the commanding officer exclaimed, batting his forehead. "There was indeed a man hanged from the royal yard of the foremast. Quite the mystery."
"That you would like to solve?"
"Precisely.", the captain confirmed. "Once this hurricane calms down, we'll go in search of that ship. Until then, advise our men to stay alert. A collision with that big a ship could be fatal for us."
The sea storm, which was getting more and more violent, seemed intent on wrecking the captain's plans of solving the mystery enshrouding that ship.
The wind was now pushing us towards east, while the other vessel kept distancing itself as it headed west, not showing any signs of a change of direction.
Gusts of wind were followed by more gusts of wind, strongly shaking our masts, threatening to tear to pieces the few sails that we had kept unfurled in order to give our ship a better stability.
The waves, as well, instead of flattening out, would rise up with frightful terrifying roars and would swoop down on us port and starboard, now lifting us up, now sinking us down.
As we got more and more worried by the increasing fury of the sea storm, we had completely forgotten about the mysterious ship, when, at around 2 AM, at the light of new bolt lightning, we caught sight of it once more.
We couldn't have been wrong. It was the same ship: completely black, with only its lower sails unfurled and the hanged man that was swinging from side to side at the bottom of the royal yard of the foremast.
A both astonished and terrified scream escaped everyone's mouths and the captain's expression darkened once again.
How come that ship, which we had encountered when we were heading west and that seemed to have no living being on it, had returned east? It was true that its sails were guided by the wind that, by some extraordinary feat, could forcefully steer the ship, yet to us it seemed so strange that it had shook us to our core.
"It's the devil's ship!", a sub-officer exclaimed, as a cadaverous paleness was spreading on his features. "I'm telling you, guys, that it's an omen of tragedy and that it will send all of us to sleep with the fishes***!"
"No, it's the legendary ghost ship: the Flying Dutchman!", another sailor shouted, while making the sign of the cross. "If it touches our ship, it'll take away our souls!"
The captain, fearing that those words would have a sinister influence on everyone's already much-too-superstitious spirits, climbed down from the gangway, shouting:
"Silence! One more word and I'll have you clapped in irons! Get ready! We're going hunting!"
Like a true, brave man, the captain quickly took charge of the situation.
"We'll get to the bottom of this mystery.", he said. "We'll hunt that ship down and we'll follow it everywhere and anywhere, even if it means sailing across the entire Atlantic Ocean!"
We tacked the ship, now heading towards east as well.
The mysterious ship was about a mile away, continuing its chaotic run, leaning on its right side. It would often jump, brusquely rerouting towards north or towards south, according to what commands its sails and helm would receive from the waves and the wind.
By now we were certain that there no men aboard, because, if there had been any, its course would have been much more proper.
Chasing it, however, was not easy, as the sea storm showed no signs of ceasing, and boarding the ship in those circumstances was out of the question.
Had we approached her, the waves would have pushed us into a collision which would have resulted in a shattering to pieces of our ship.
It was, thus, necessary to wait the hurricane out, and for the waves to flatten out, so we could lower the lifeboats.
We followed that ship on its fickle route all throughtout the night. The sailors, too, were starting to calm down, no longer seeing that ship as the legendary Flying Dutchman, but rather as any other ordinary ship that had been abandoned by its crew.
Still, a certain anxiety still remained within everyone, instilled by that hanged man that was swinging back and forth under the royal yard of the foremast.
At dawn, we had already gained three hawsers on it, but the state of the unrest of the sea still prevented us from approaching it, even though the wind had calmed down and the waves flattened out little by little.
At dusk, the captain ordered the lowering of the biggest lifeboat in order to board the mysterious ship.
We were ten sailors on that boat, bringing with us a grappling hook to help us with the boarding of that ship, some torches, and went out to sea, our ship following us closely, ready to rush to our aid in case the waves would have capsized our boat.
The sea wasn't entirely calm, our lifeboat staggering something great, now soaring over the crests of the frothing rollers, now rapidly sinking us into the abyss.
But our sailors proved their worth once more as the lifeboat safely reached the mysteryous ship, thousands of sinister creaking sounds being heard as it rolled among the insistent waves.
"Throw the grapnel!", commanded the captain.
A sailor, letting go of his oar, took the small hook that was attached to a solid rope and dexteriously threw it up, entangling it in the ratlines.
The lifeboat was stopped under a rope ladder, that was hanging from the left side of the gunwale, the captain immediately grabbing on to both the rope ladder and the grapnel, followed by I and four more sailors, the latter all armed with torches and pistols.
The moment we climbed on deck, a pestilential scent, that seemed to come from the wide open hatch, invaded our noses, making us stumble back.
"There are dead men, here.", the captain said, turning pale.
"Captain", I said. "Let's leave this ship. Maybe its crew was killed by the yellow fever."
"No", he said. "I want to get to the bottom of this mystery. Furthermore, I don't believe that it is the yellow fever that is the guilty of this here massacre."
"What else could it have been?"
"I don't know yet, but that man that is hanging from the royal yard of the foremast with a string tie around his neck is extremely suspicious, and it makes me suspect something far more sombre. Come on, gather all your courage and let's get to the bottom of this."
Winning our disgust over and holding our noses, we approached the hatch, which, as I had mentioned earlier, was wide open.
It was exactly from that spot that that insufferable stench of corrupted flesh was spreading from.
Once we had gotten near the hatch, our eyes became witnesses to a horrifying sight.
Eleven men were lying down on the wooden floor of the hallway****, one near the other, with their faces wrecked from putrefaction.
They were ten sailors and an officer.
"Who could have carried out this massacre?", the captain wondered, approaching a torch to the hatch.
"Could it be that they died due to an epidemic malady?", I asked.
"Feeling brave?", the captain asked me.
"I think so", I answered, even though my legs were shaking.
"Then let's go down there."
"You might be making a careless mistake.", I pointed out.
The captain, instead of answering me, held his nose with a handkerchief, and slowly climbed down in the middle of that human carnage.
We very begrudgingly followed him.
The captain examined each and every one of those corpses, each of them showing through their shocked and upset features that they had gone through a long and atrocious agony. Once done, the captain noticed, bewildered, that none of them had any sort of wound.
"What do you think?", he asked me.
"Captain, I have a feeling...", I answered him.
"Yeah?"
"That these men were poisoned."
"And by whom?"
"Did you forget about the hanged man?"
"Let's go take a look at the cabins."
We passed the cargo hold, reaching the control panel, and proceeded to enter the officer's dining room.
Lying down on the ground there was another man, the captain of the ship, his head shattered by the shot of a firearm.
"A crime was committed here.", I said.
"Correct.", the captain answered me. "And this unfortunate man couldn't have been dead for more than three or four days."
"Could it be that this ship was attacked by pirates?", I asked.
"They would have plundered it, but nothing is missing."
"Let's take a look at the captain's log."
The drawers being all wide opened, we wasted no time in finding them. This is how we had learned the ship's name was Ferdinando Cortes, setting sail from Veracruz with a crew of fifteen men, counting the captain and second-in-command, and whose destination was São Paulo da Assunção de Loanda*****, where it was supposed to load redwood.
"Fifteen men!", the captain exclaimed. "Two are missing, then."
"Yeah, because, counting the hanged man, on board there are only thirteen.", I confirmed.
"Where could the other two be?"
"Let's look for them, captain."
The rest of the sailors from the lifeboat were helped up on the ship, all the torches were lit up and we all started the search for the other two missing sailors of the original crew of the ship.
The cargo hold, bilge, lodgings from the prow and stern all were meticulously scrutizined, to no avail. The two men, that must've boarded the ship, as the captain's log clearly stated, were nowhere to be found.
What had happened to them?
"Could it be that they perished before all the others, their mates throwing them overboard?", I asked our captain.
He shook his head, the shadow of a doubt colouring his features.
"Are there any lifeboats aboard this ship?", he suddenly asked.
"Just one: the dinghy.", I answered.
"Then the lifeboat is missing. A ship this big couldn't have brought just a dinghy with it, barely able to hold four or five men."
His reasoning struck us all like lightning.
We were now all convinced that the two men had taken the lifeboat.
The mystery was getting deeper.
"Captain", I spoke up, "let's lower the hanged man."
"He won't shed light on this lugubrious tale.", he replied. "Nonetheless, let's give it a try."
Two sailors climbed up to the topmast, taking some ropes with them, tied up the hanged man, cut the rope from which he was hanging from the royal yard of the foremast, and lowered him on the deck.
That unfortunate man was a young man of maybe twenty-five or twenty-eight years at best, tall, as dark as a person of mixed race, his beard as black as can be, giving him a sinister appearance.
It seemed that his death dated back to two or three days at most, because his flesh hadn't started decomposing just yet.
We searched him and in a pocket we found a thick envelope on which, in those large, big, characters that is typical of sailors, was written the following:
"To be read after my death."
Our curiosity grew bigger and bigger, as we finally had the certitude of finally able to solve this mystery.
The captain cut open the envelope and inside, there were a few slips of paper that had the same calligraphy on them as the one that was present on the envelope.
Those slips of paper contained a detailed confession of what had gone down aboard that Mexican ship, written some time before that man, overcome with remorse, committed suicide.
Here's a brief summary of that lugubrious tale:
The Ferdinando Cortes had left Veracruz two months before we had encountered it, having fifteen men on board, officers included.
After forty-five days, two sailors, in agreement with the suicide victim, plotted a revolt in order to take over the ship.
Their plan was exposed before the right time and the captain, a man of great courage and vigor, decisively confronted the three scums, had them clapped in irons and thrown in the cargo hold, awaiting to hand them over to the authorities of São Paulo da Assunção de Loanda.
Due to some unfortunate circumstances, the security measures weren't taken properly and, after a few weeks, the three rebels were able to break free from their chains and gain their freedom once more.
More determined than ever in their intent and eager to take their revenge, those scums poisoned the food supplies that were on board via a box of prussic acid that they had stolen from the cargo.
A few minutes later, all of those unfortunate men fell one after the other. Just the captain, by chance, escaped the poison; instead, he was taken by surprise in his cabin by the three rebels, immediately gunned down by them. The horrendous crime having been committed, the remorses lost no time in overtaking those poisoners.
Two of the sailors, no longer able to stand the sight of their mates lying down in the hallway, abandoned the ship that same night, boarding the lifeboat. The third one, mad with terror, after three days on his own among all those dead that the equatorial heat was starting to decompose, hanged himself.
"Those scums!", the captain exclaimed after having read the letter. "We won't this heinous crime go unpunished!"
"Do you intend to chase after the fugitives?"
"Yes, if I had to sail the whole Atlantic Oceani. It's been three days since they have abandoned their ship, and lest the storm had swallowed them whole, they will pay the price for their crime."
We spent the night aboard the ship, then, the next morning, after having said the prayers for the dead, a proper burial was given to those unfortunate men, shrouded in hammocks with cannonballs tied to them.
The hanged man, on the other hand was thrown overboard by the angry sailors, with no hammock nor cannonball, the latter finding solace in seeing the former being devoured by a monstrous shark that was lurking about near the ship.
Not willing to give up such a great find, that according to the laws of the sea now likely belonged to us, and having quite a numerous crew, we left eight sailors and a master aboard that ship, instructing them to await our return.
At ten o'clock, our sailing ship was already on the hunt. We wanted to catch those two scums at all costs and make them pay for their outrageous crime.
With the sea now calm and a fresh breeze blowing, the Mexican ship was soon gone from our sight.
We had set course for the Brazilian coast, as that was the closest piece of land.
It was likely that that was the course that those two scums had set, because there are very few islands in the Atlantic Ocean and all of them were very far away from our route.
Not even twenty-four hours had passed before, on the infinity of the ocean, a black dot was reported, that couldn't have been a ship, since no white sails had been seen above it.
"It must be the lifeboat.", said the captain, pointing his spyglass towards it.
We put our sails to work and in three hours, we were a few hawsers away from a boat with two men in it.
Seeing us, they raised an oar with a rag tied to it, making distress signals to us, asking for help.
They surely could not imagine what kind of help they were just about to get.
The captain stopped the ship, waiting for the two scums to reach our ship and threw the rope ladder so they could board.
Both sailors of the Mexican ship were young and incredibly sturdy, with very long hair, and beards, and their eyes were such that they just didn't instill any kind of trustworthiness in any of us.
Once aboard our ship, our captain approached them, a sardonic smile present on his features as he spoke to them:
"I'm quite glad to have been able to pick you up. What ship did you belong to?"
"We belonged to a Mexican ship, that sunk about three or so weeks ago", one of those two scoundrels answered.
"And its name?"
"Ferdinando Cortes."
"And all your mates drowned, didn't they?"
"All of them, captain.", the lowlife answered in the same calm voice as always.
"And yet, my dear young men,", said the captain, unable to hold back any longer, "we boarded the Ferdinando Cortes and its crew was on the ship, but not a single member of it alive, capiche, you scum?! Men, arrest these two scoundrels!"
In the next moment, the two poisoners found themselves clapped in chains in the cargo hold, only this time, it was both their hands and their feet that were in chains.
We reached Ferdinando Cortes that same night and resumed our initial voyage, arriving a Pernambuco a week later.
The two Mexicans were immediately handed over to the Brazilian authorities, whom lost no time in proceeding with a trial.
They were sentenced to death, and four days after our arrival, they were hanged in front of a huge crowd.
As far as the ship is concerned, it was sold, each of us receiving a pretty good amount of money after its sale, but which soon sunk in the Brazilian city.
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* Lightnings is an archaic plural of the word lightning. It is no longer in use, the word lightning being considered as an uncountable. (Source. 28.10.2025).
** The Dutchman to whom Captain Salgari is referring to here is none other than the Captain of the ship known as The Flying Dutchman (Yes... that Flying Dutchman, the same one as the one that Davy Jones from the Pirates of Caribbean is commanding), which is a legendary ghost ship that is meant to sail the sea forever, never able to make port. Sailors believed that seeing this ship meant certain death.
The most recent sightings, as of current, are from the 20th century, the most well-known one being the one by Prince George of Wales (future King George V).
It is believed that the ship is what is called a fluyt (a Dutch vessel whose purpose was to make transoceanic deliveries with the maximum of space and crew efficiency).
*** Both fish and fishes are accepted forms as a plural of the world fish. The difference is that the plural form of fish refers to a single species of of fish, while fishes refers to multiple species of fish. (Source. 30.10.2025)
**** The original text says frapponte, which is most likely an archaic Italian nautical term. The closest English equivalent I could find was hallway.
Specifically, frapponte is the space that exists between two decks, that form both the ceiling and the floor. A more known term is corridoio, which is Italian for hallway. (Source. 30.10.2025)
Personal Note: Thank you once again to the Tigrotto Fabio Negro, a staff member of www.emiliosalgari.it . His dictionary for nautical terms is a Godsend.
***** São Paulo da Assunção de Loanda is the largest and capital city of the Republic of Angola, a country on the western coast of Southern Africa. Its present-day name is Luanda. (Source 1. 30.10.2025)(Source 2. 30.10.2025)
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Personal Notes:
It is said that the stories written by Emilio Salgari are stories he would hear from sailors, when he would go to visit the dock.
His best and most known work, "Sandokan, The Tiger of Malaysia" has been proven to bear resemblance to true historical facts, starting with the firstly-thought-of-as-fictional island, Mompracem (currently known as Kuraman Island), and with the strong impression that Sandokan is no other than a fictional representation of Syarif Osman, who ruled Marudu (north of Borneo) (I recommend you go here for more information about Sandokan or Syarif Osman. Miss Bianca has done a marvelous job in finding, gathering, and translating information about Salgari and his works, especially those concerning the character of Sandokan).
Going by this, I strongly suspect that all of Emilio Salgari's stories are based on true, historical happenings and people, the sands of time mercilessly erasing most of their traces.
Emilio Salgari's stories feature places from all around the world; many of them feature places as far as possible from Europe itself. It is not far fetched that a story from your own hometown might be present in one of his writings, regardless of how remote or unknown you might think it might be to others.
If you know how to find the original, historical, sources of any of the stories present on this blog or if you even recognize one of them here as a local, known story (or legend) to you, please feel free to contact me.
I would love to put both the story written by Salgari and the historical one side by side and not let these names become forgotten.
Thank you very much for your assistance.
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