The Sea Tales of Master Catrame - The Cursed Ship - Second Story of 13
The Sea Tales of Master Catrame
THE CURSED 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The following text may present outdated depictions that are in no way or form shared by the translator themself, and neither are they shared by the original author of these stories.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
papa = pet name for one's grandfather (or grandfather figure, in this case). (Source. 11.12.2025)
stern = the rear of the hulls* of all nautical means of transportation. (Source. 02.12.2025)
*hull = the body or frame of a vessel, such as a ship or plane. (Source. 29.11.2025)
stern = the rear of the hulls of all nautical means of transportation. (Source. 02.12.2025)
frigate = a warship combining sail and steam propulsion, typically of ironclad timber construction, supplementing and superseding sailing ships of the line at the beginning of the development of the ironclad battleship. [mid 19th–late 19th c.]. (Source. 29.11.2025)
mast = a tall, slim post or tower, usually tapering upward, used to support, for example, sails or observation platforms on a ship. (Source. 02.12.2025)
lifeboat = a boat especially designed for saving the lives of shipwrecked people or people in distress at sea (either launched from the shore with a crew, or else carried on board a larger ship). (Source. 12.01.2026)
yard = a spar* on a mast from which sails are set. (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).
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)
headland (head) = a coastal landform, a point of land usually high and often with a sheer drop, that extends into a body of water. A type of promontory*.
A headland of considerable size often is called a cape.
Headlands are characterised by high, breaking waves, rocky shores, intense erosion, and steep sea cliff.
(Source. 12.01.2026)
*promontory = raised mass of land that projects into a lowland or body of water. (Source. 17.10.2025).
mizzenmast = the aftmost mast on a ship having three masts; the third-tallest mast on a full-rigged ship. (Source. 12.11.2025)
vento = while in a normal context, this is the Italian word for "wind", in this story, the word vento is used to refer to a type of weathercock or wind wane that is located at the top of a mast (Source. 13.01.2026).
In the Navy dictionary for Salgarian terms put together by Mister Fabio Negro over here (13.01.2026), it is claimed that vento is a term that refers to the main propeller of a sailing ship, which differs according to the ship's origin.
master (mariner) = a sailor who is qualified to be a captain of a merchant ship. (Source. 04.11.2025)
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).
command deck* (of a ship) (also known as: bridge; wheelhouse; pilothouse) = a room or platform of a ship, submarine, airship, or spaceship from which the ship can be commanded. (Source. 13.01.2026)
*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)
forecastle = a raised part of the upper deck at the front of a ship or or (historically) the forward part of a ship with the sailors' living quarters. (Source 1. 13.01.2026) (Source 2. 13.01.2026)
mainmast = the tallest mast* of a sailing ship that has more than one mast. (Source. 30.10.2025).
Note: alternative spelling: main-mast.
*mast = a tall, slim post or tower, usually tapering upward, used to support, for example, sails or observation platforms on a ship. (Source. 02.12.2025)
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).
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;
keel = a rigid, flat piece of material anchored to the lowest part of the hull* of a ship to give it greater control and stability. (Source. 15.01.2026)
*hull = the body or frame of a vessel, such as a ship or plane. (Source. 29.11.2025)
👻🚢🌊
Here's Papa Catrame, seated on a small barrel, with his legs crossed the same way the Turkish sit, and surrounded by sailors that whose eyes aree wide open and that are bending their ears as much as they can so they do not lose a single syllable of that which he is going to narrate.
The Indian Ocean was so still that it allowed everyone - except for the helmsman, that is - to join in listening to those interesting and magnificent tales. A light breeze from the coasts of Africa was pushing the ship towards East, to that unusual country that goes by the name of India, and from which we were still far away, so far away, in fact, that we could listen to all of the twelve tales requested by our amiable skipper.
Master Catrame, after having demanded a thorough silence from the whole audience via a wave of his hand and a glare, breathlessly gulped down a big glass of the good ol' Cipro* in order to clear his head, divvied up an excellent Havana** cigar, that was offered by the skipper, with his long, yellow, old mouse-like teeth, visibly satisfied as he lit it up, then began to speak in a rough and sepulchral voice:
"I belong to a generation that is almost entirely extinguished, seeing as I'm old, very old in fact, and all of those that had once seen me as a cabin boy have been resting for many years either at the bottom of the Great Cup*** or inside the belly of some big shark.
Having said that, he stopped, mischievously looking at us in order to see what kind of effect did that spine-chilling, lugubrious foreword have, especially with that odd, frightening tone, then resumed:
"I belong to an era in which people believed in the apparition of ghost ships, in exorcisms to calm the storm or to dissolve big waterspouts, in mermaids that showed up under the stern of the ship in order to lure careless sailors, in sea spirits, in Neptune, the king of the oceanic abysses, in the apparitions of drowned sailors, in beasts, in witches, in the daughters of the seafoam. You no longer believe in any of these, calling them scary fables that were invented by drunk men or that come from the dark fantasy of the Nordic people; but you're wrong. Papa Catrame has seen a lot: the mermaids, the dead, the ghost ships and even more.
The old sea dog, after this second opening that was no less lugubrious than the first one, took a second look around. Nobody breathed a single word, neither were they batting an eye: we were all disturbed and the cabin boys and young sailors had gone pale with fright. Only the captain kept his composed demeanor, his lips taking the shape of a derisive smile.
Papa Catrame kept quiet for a few more moments in order to better collect his thoughts, and started over from there:
"I no longer remember the time period, as many, many years have passed since then, and I was still just a lad, no longer a cabin boy, but not yet a sailor, either. I had boarded a big, three-decked frigate, a type of ship that is no longer in use, since everything's changed now, the ships have changed just like the sailors' habits have.
Its name was Santa Barbara****: but its captain was an unscrupulous man who didn't fear neither God nor the devil, and that was blaspheming from morning till night like the mythical captain from the ghost ships of the legends, the Flying Dutchman, and didn't believe in anything, had given her a different name: the Charon*****.
Nasty were the tales surrounding that frigate, led by that damned, a true damned one, I tell you! Word of Papa Catrame! It was said that during the night, every night, at the bottom of the sombre cargo hold, one could hear arcane clangs as well as groans; that in the hallways that were leading to the gun battery one could see white shadows pass that would soon vanish, and that a small, azure flame would often appear at the top of the masts. It was also said that during each night, a sailor that was pitch black and whose face was covered in a long, red beard, would enter the skipper's cabin in order to gamble and drink. Who was he is just as much of a mystery to me as it is to you; but the sailors of the Charon would whisper among themselves that it must've been the devil himself: others, instead, would claim that he was one of the sailors that had been wrongly hanged by the skipper, seeing as that was a cruel man and had previously killed several of his men for nothing. In short, everyone was afraid of him, and when the ship would make landfall, not few were the sailors that would desert the ship, fearing a bad ending at the hands of that evil person had they continued keeping him company.
An abbot, who once upon a time had been a friend of the skipper's, had tried to persuade the blasphemer to return the ship its original name and to correct his ways, but to no avail; on the contrary, he had been threatened in return; and thus, the name of Charon had remained.
We had crossed several oceans by then and, weirdly enough, we hadn't encountered a single sea storm; but the clatter aboard the frigate would continue, and during the night, no sailor would dare go down in the cargo hold on his own and without a light. Any would have rather let themselves be flogged until bleeding by the cat o' nine tails****** rather than go down in that black chasm.
But it couldn't go on like this forever. The blasphemer by now had been judged: the captain of the Flying Dutchman must've been in need of a new sailor, and you must know that only the blasphemous and the cruel board that cursed ship, doomed to eternally sail in a continous tempest. We had just left the coasts of Africa and were heading towards South America, to Callao*******. Just as we were leaving port, a sailor had fallen down from a mast and had drowned before we had managed to lower the lifeboats; on the second day, a yard fell from the foremast, dropping right at the feet of the skipper, nearly killing him; on the third day, a petrel******** came to fly about above our heads three times in a row, precisely above the cabin of the blasphemer.
The petrel is the storms' bird and brings misfortune. Back then it was believed that a storm petrel was the soul of a dead sailor, something which led the crew to immediately start murmuring how it certainly was the soul of our ill-fated crew member that had fallen from the mast and drowned, and whom was now coming back to warn us about some serious tragedy.
A superstitious terror had taken over the entire crew. A voyage that had had such a horrible start couldn't have gone well: something bad was about to happen, we could feel it instinctively; but the skipper wasn't worried. On the contrary, it seemed as if, just like the captain of the Flying Dutchman, he wanted to defy destiny and the decrees of Heaven. He would blaspheme even more than usual, abused the crew even worse than usual, drinking and gambling from morning till deep in the night.
But it so happens that one day, while we were close Cape Horn*********, the air became dark and the sea had started to rise. The darkness, like an immense flock of crows, descends upon the boundless water expanse, while the wind whistles stridently across the masts, whistles that are unlike any that we had heard before, and seemingly shouts of the damned making their way to the surface every once in a while.
We could hear frightening clatters in the cargo hold; it was the clang of chains, even though there were none in there, there were deep roars, then groans. You will say that it was the supporting beams for the deck, the spines of the ship********** or the planking that was creaking... Nay! Papa Catrame tells you nay!"
A shudder of fear ran through the spines of the whole audience at the sound of that solemn statement of the old sailor. The cabin boys had moved closer to the sailors, and the sailors had moved even closer to the officers. In that moment, a fly's flight could be heard, so deep was the silence that had fallen upon the ship, that one could even hear the distinct beat of every heart on board. Each pair of eyes was intently fixed on the master, who seemed to grow more and more gigantic, more and more ethereal, and become whiter and whiter by the minute, like one of those frightening ghosts that inhabited the Charon's cargo hold.
"Towards sunset", Papa Catrame resumed in a sombre tone, "Cape Horn could be seen from afar, the dreaded promontory of South America. It seemed then as if the sea had doubled its rage, not unlike when it had done so at the Cape of Good Hope***********, when the cursed Dutchman had sold his soul to the devil in order to overcome the Cape of Good Hope in spite of the raging storm.
Blinding lightning was darting all over the place and the thunder was roaring incessantly, causing even the masts of our ship to shake; the wind was whistling and screeching among the clouds, and the waves were crashing against one another with such a fury that I haven't seen since, even though I have faced countless hurricanes since then.
The crew, frightened and at a loss, was praying; only the captain wasn't. The captain kept on horrifically imprecating against Heaven and kept asking the devil for help in order to overcome the dreaded promontory of South America.
And suddenly, on the frothing waves, there was a black dot that kept approaching us at lightning speed: it was the petrel, the same one that had come to fly three times above our heads, after that sailor's death.
It rotated three more times around us and stopped above the vento of our mizzenmast.
"It's the sailor's soul!", everyone cried out. "It's a disaster! It's a disaster!..."
"It can go back to hell!", the skipper shouted, and taking aim with a rifle, shot at it twice, without succeeding as the petrel slowly flew away, but not without first making three more turns around the Charon and then disappearing among the waves.
We had distanced ourselves from the captain, horrified, shouting:
"It's a disaster!... It's a disaster!..."
His answer to that was a hurricane of horrific imprecations.
The master mariner of the crew, a white-bearded old man, that just like me, believed in the return of the souls of those who had died, went down to his cabin, took his cross and put it on the bow of the ship.
That action sent the blasphemer into a rage like no other, for he had become rabid. Leaping down from the commanding deck and onto the forecastle, he took the cross and launched it into the sea!
Almost immediately an enranged lightning bolt flashed among the clouds, followed by such a frightening rumble that we all were knocked down and out on the deck. Once we had gotten back on our feet, God's judgement had been completed: the blasphemer was lying down, lifeless, at the base of the mainmast: a lightning bolt had struck him!...
Then, on the dark of the horizon line we saw the sea raising itself to a prodigious height, while on the high rocks of Cape Horn we could still see flashes of lightning bolts; then, we saw a big, black ship appear in a sanguineous light, with its pitch black sails unfurled, and steered by a man of a gigantic stature. It was the ship of the Flying Dutchman, coming to claim the soul of the blasphemer!
Its speed was frightening, monstrous waves hitting it from every side, and on top of its masts there were three azure flames. It covered a part of the horizon, then it suddenly disappeared as if it had plunged itself into the abyss.
You'll tell me that it was a ship like any other, that our fear had exaggerated about, seeing as you don't believe in the Flying Dutchman; but I saw it with my own two eyes, and Papa Catrame's eyes were healthy at the time! You'll tell me that I think I saw that ghost ship, but I say to you that what I saw, I saw well and clear and that no one can convince me otherwise!
And you know what else? When we threw the cadaver of the blasphemer overboard, the next day, we saw it rise to the surface of the water three times in a row; then the waves took over him and carried him far, far away, towards the place where the ghost ship had vanished.
Papa Catrame is still here, but the Charon's skipper is aboard the Flying Dutchman, also doomed to forever sail the tempestuous seas between Cape Horn and the Cape of Good Hope!..."
A glacial silence greeted the old sailor's sinister closing remarks. No one would dare even breath, except for the captain, who had kept his derisive smile; it was if everyone was afraid to turn around on the off chance that they would catch sight of the cursed ship sailing on the horizon. There was a superstitious terror on every face and the cabin boys, especially, were extremely pale.
Papa Catrame slowly sipped another glass of that Cipro wine, put the bottle under his arm, wished us good night in a mocking tone and climbed down from the small barrel, ready to return to the cargo hold, when our captain, whom had not stopped smiling throughout the entire narration gestured to him to stop:
"Is this your tale?", he asked in a derisive tone.
"Yes", the master answered him, bewildered about the interrogation.
"So, then, you believe in the Flying Dutchman?"
"Believe in it...?! I saw it with my own two eyes!"
"Or do you assume that you saw it?"
Master Catrame gave him a look that clearly said:"Are you crazy?".
"Catrame.", said the captain, his tone taking on a more serious note, "Did it never occur to you that you could have misinterpreted things or that you could have been deceived by some kind of phenomenon?"
"Never, cap'n", the master answered, more and more bewildered.
"Tell me then: have you never heard speak of a mirage, or, if you'd prefer, of the Fata Morgana?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Then allow me to explain. On the sea, just like in the vast deserts, especially in the Sahara Desert, for example, sometimes a strange phenomenon occurs, but an extremely easy to explain one.
When the air layers which expand due to the contact with warm soil or with an expanse of water that has a certain temperature have a density so different that it causes them to not be able to blend with the ones above them, they start showing extremely strange examples of optical illusions: a mere rock becomes a verdant island, a dinghy becomes a ship, a ship becomes a monstrous fleet, a man becomes a giant, and so on and so forth. Now, what do you think about the apparition of the presumed Flying Dutchman?"
"That the scientists invented some great tall tales, cap'n."
"No, Catrame: you were the one selling us tall tales or, rather, you were deceived by a mere mirage. The big, great ship that you had seen and believed was the Flying Dutchman, whom, just so you know, never existed, was just a ship that was passing by on the horizon line, and whose size was greatly enhanced and transformed by the Fata Morgana. Ah, Catrame, how naive you are!..."
The master watched him astonished. He stood still for a few minutes, his gaze fixed on the captain, then slowly distanced himself and disappeared in the hatch. Although that scientific explanation was correct, it still was not persuasive enough for the crew, and I'm willing to bet my bottom dollar that it was more than one sailor that hadn't gotten any kind of shut-eye that night and that the watchmen kept their eyes peeled in order to see whether the cursed vessel of the Flying Dutchman would appear on the horizon.
👻🚢🌊
Source of the tale. (13.01.2026)
Between fairy tales and reality: tRANSLATOR'S NOTE
Fata Morgana is a real phenomenon that takes the form of a mirage visible in a narrow band right above the horizon. The term Fata Morgana is the Italian translation of "Morgan the Fairy" (the powerful and ambiguous enchantress from the legend of King Arthur, in which she is known as Morgan le Fay).
These mirages are often seen in the Italian Strait of Messina, and were described as fairy castles in the air or false land conjured by her magic.
Fata Morgana mirages significantly distort the object or objects on which they are based, often such that the object is completely unrecognizable. A Fata Morgana may be seen at sea or on land, in polar regions, or in deserts. It may involve almost any kind of distant object, including boats, islands, and the coastline. Often, a Fata Morgana changes rapidly. The mirage comprises several inverted (upside down) and upright images stacked on top of one another. Fata Morgana mirages also show alternating compressed and stretched zones.
The optical phenomenon occurs because rays of light bend when they pass through air layers of different temperatures in a steep thermal inversion where an atmospheric duct has formed. In calm weather, a layer of significantly warmer air may rest over colder dense air, forming an atmospheric duct that acts like a refracting lens, producing a series of both inverted and erect images.
A Fata Morgana requires a duct to be present; thermal inversion alone is not enough to produce this kind of mirage. While a thermal inversion often takes place without there being an atmospheric duct, an atmospheric duct cannot exist without there first being a thermal inversion.
(Source 1. 13.01.2026) (Source 2. 13.01.2026)
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*Cipro is a type of sweet, red wine, that has a sweet-bitter taste accompanied by a scent of roses with nuances of apricots and violets. It is originally from the Slovenian Istria, but it's a variety of wine that has almost died out due to the incredibly demanding cultivation of grapes. It is one of the oldest wines in the world, dating back to 2000 years before Christ. It is also known under the name Muscat rose (Croatian Istria) or Moscato rosa (Trentino, Italy).
(Source 1 (26.08.2025)). (Source 2 (26.08.2025)).
** Havana is the capital city of Republic of Cuba, an island country in the Caribbean, a region in the middle of the Americas. It was the Spanish that introduced tobacco to Europe, which resulted in it becoming a major commodity shipped to Europe. Havana Cigars are required to be made exclusively from tobacco grown in its own territory, and are worldwide recognized as a benchmark of excellence. You can find more information about them and the process required for their creation here (12.01.2026), but please note that you must be over 18 years of age to access the site and this is not an encouragement for you to start smoking. This information was written purely for research purposes.
(Source. (12.01.2026))
*** In the original text, it says "grande tazza", which is an expression used by sailors to refer to the sea. (Source. (12.01.2026))
**** Santa Barbara, in English Saint Barbara, was an early Christian Syrian Greek Saint and martyr who was beheaded by her own father for having converted to the Christian faith and refusing to return to her father's religion. As divine punishment, her father was struck by lightning after having committed such an atrocious crime, and his remains burned in a fire, not even his ashes being left behind. She is celebrated on the 4th of December. (Source. (12.01.2026))
***** Charon is the name of the ferryman of the Greek underworld, whose task is to carry the souls of the dead who had been given funeral rites across the rivers Acheron and Styx, rivers which are believed to separate the world of the living from the world of the dead. The Acheron is a is a river in the Epirus region of northwest Greece, while the Styx river is a specifically Underworld river, a form taken by the goddess Styx herself.
It is believed it was needed to provide a coin to the Charon in order to be carried across the rivers.
In Aeneid, a Latin epic poem written by Virgil (an ancient Roman poet from the Augustan period), it is shown that those who cannot pay the fee or that had not received their funeral rites would have to wander the shores of the Styx for a hundred years before they would be allowed to cross the river.
****** The cat o' nine tails was a stirrup leather made from nine small cords that was used in the navy in order to punish the unruly. You can see a picture of it here (Picture is from the Wikipedia article, which is provided in the following sentence. The availabily of the link was last checked on 12.01.2026). If you wish to find out more about this weapon, please go here (12.01.2026). Source (12.01.2026)
******* Callao is a seaside city in Peru, a country in Western South America. Source 1 (12.01.2026). Source 2 (12.01.2026).
******** A petrel is a bird belonging to the Procellaria genus of the Southern Ocean (also known as the Antarctic Ocean) long-winged birds, which are related to prions (also known as whalebirds) which are
small petrels in the genera Pachyptila and Halobaena.
In this story, Captain Salgari most likely refers to specifically storm petrels of one species or another are found from Antarctica to the Arctic, throughout the tropics, and in the North Atlantic. Their name comes from the fact that the best time to see them is during storms at sea. Some native legends in the Arctic claim that the storm was actually caused by the petrel. Other folktales say the birds are the spirits of sea captains who mistreated their crews and are doomed to spend eternity flying over the sea.
Sailors once believed that these tiny birds signaled impending bad weather. This belief stems from the storm petrels' behaviour of flying close to ships during turbulent weather. Sailors observed that these small birds darted around their vessels as the skies darkened and the seas grew rough, leading to their association with impending storms. During a time when seafarers relied heavily on natural signs to navigate the treacherous seas, the appearance of storm petrels became a powerful omen.
Furthermore, the storm petrels' presence during storms led sailors to believe that they were the restless spirits of drowned sailors. This belief arose from the notion that these spirits were doomed to eternally navigate the ocean, forever tied to the waters that claimed their lives.
The name petrel comes from Saint Peter’s walk on water in the Gospel of Matthew in the Christian Bible—a reference to the storm-petrel’s tendency to patter its feet on the water as it forages.
In New England (a region consisting of six states in the Northeastern United States which are: Connecticut, Maine, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Rhode Island, and Vermont) and Newfoundland (easternmost province of Canada, located in the country's Atlantic region and which includes the large island of Newfoundland), fishermen still refer to storm petrels as “Mother Carey’s chickens,” Mother Carey" coming from the Latin Mater Cara, a name for the Virgin Mary, with the birds serving as a divine warning of storms.
While some claim that the petrel serves as a divine warning of storms, and others say that it is a bringer of bad luck, in both of those instances, it is bad luck to kill one.
(((Source 1. (12.01.2026)) (Source 2. (12.01.2026)) (Source 3. (12.01.2026)) (Source 4. (12.01.2026)) (Source 5. (12.01.2026)) (Source 6. (12.01.2026)) (Source 7. (12.01.2026)))
********* Cape Horn is the southernmost headland of the Tierra del Fuego archipelago of southern Chile, and is located on the small Hornos Island. It is not the most southerly point of South America (that title belonging to Águila Islet), Cape Horn marks the northern boundary of the Drake Passage and marks where the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans meet. (Source. (12.01.2026))
********** The Italian term present here is corbetto (pl. corbetti), which the footnote in the original post says it refers to the ship's sides. However, according to the Salgarian nautical dictionary put together by Mister Fabio Negro and which can be found here (13.01.2026), corbetto is a term that refers to parts of the frame that stretch out the planking and which are in the vicinity of the keel.
*********** Cape of Good Hope is a rocky headland on the Atlantic coast of the Cape Peninsula in South Africa.
A common misconception is that the Cape of Good Hope is the most southern tip of Africa, based on the misconception that the Cape was the dividing point between the Atlantic and Indian oceans. The southernmost point of Africa is actually Cape Agulhas (which is a rocky headland in Western Cape (which is a province of South Africa, situated on the south-western coast of the country)), which is about 150 kilometres (90 mi) to the east-southeast. (Source 1. 13.01.2026) (Source 2. 13.01.2026) (Source 3. 13.01.2026)
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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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