The Sea Tales of Master Catrame - Solomon's Cross - Fifth Story of 13

    

The Sea Tales of Master Catrame

SOLOMON'S CROSS

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The following text may present outdated depictions that are in no way or form shared by the translator themself, and neither are they shared by the original author of these stories.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)

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)

*mast (alternative definition) = a tall spar**, or arrangement of spars, erected vertically or near-vertically on the median line of a ship or boat. A mast may carry sails, spars, and derricks***. (Source. 19.01.2026)

**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).

***derrick = a device that is used for lifting and moving large objects. (Source. 19.01.2026)

****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).

master (mariner) = a sailor who is qualified to be a captain of a merchant ship. (Source. 04.11.2025)

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)

topman = the man stationed in the top on a sailing vessel, responsible for the setting of the sails. (Source. 15.01.2026)

(goat) kid = young goat; the name for the young of the goat. (Source. 28.01.2026)

sailboat (or sailing ship or sailer) = a boat propelled by a sail. (Source 1. 19.01.2026) (Source 2. 28.01.2026)

archipelago (or island group or island chain) = a chain, cluster, or collection of islands. An archipelago may be in an ocean, a sea, or a smaller body of water. (Source. 28.01.2026)

port (nautical) = left side of the ship. (Source. 30.10.2025)

starboard = the righthand side of a ship, boat or aircraft when facing the front, or fore or bow. (Source. 15.01. 2026)

mast = a tall, slim post or tower, usually tapering upward, used to support, for example, sails or observation platforms on a ship. (Source. 19.01.2026)

mast (alternative definition) = a tall spar*, or arrangement of spars, erected vertically or near-vertically on the median line of a ship or boat. A mast may carry sails, spars, and derricks**. (Source. 19.01.2026)

*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).

**derrick = a device that is used for lifting and moving large objects. (Source. 19.01.2026)

***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).

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).

taffrail = 

• (nautical) The curved wooden top of the stern of a sailing man-of-war or East Indiaman, usually carved or decorated;
• (nautical) The rail around the stern of a ship;
• (nautical) The deck area at the stern of a vessel.

(Source. (03.02.2026))

tiller = the handle of the rudder which the helmsman holds to steer the boat, a piece of wood or metal extending forward from the ship's wheel over or through the transom*. Generally attached at the top of the ship's wheel. (Source. 03.02.2026)

*transom = a transom is the aft (rear) transverse surface of the hull** of some boats and ships forming its stern. (Source. 03.02.2026)

**hull = the body or frame of a vessel, such as a ship or plane. (Source. 29.11.2025)

by a thousand hatches = not an actual English phrase; the original is "Per mille boccaporti!", which is more of Master Catrame's thing rather than an Italian or a sailor thing. 

bosun (or bo's'n or boatswain) = a person aboard ship who is in charge of various maritime affairs (the officer whose authority is given by the Captain to be in charge of sails, rigging, anchors, cables etc. and all work on deck of a sailing ship (or an officer that does not hold military authority of a merchant ship but who controls the work of other seamen)). (Source 1. 03.02.2026) (Source 2. 03.02.2026) (Source 3. 03.02.2026) (Source 4. 03.02.2026) (Source 5. 03.02.2026) (Source 6. 03.02.2026)

In the original text, Captain Salgari uses the term bosmano, which is most likely Salgarian penmanship.

galley = the cookroom or kitchen and cooking apparatus of a vessel or aircraft; sometimes on merchant vessels called the caboose. (Source. 12.02.2026)

yard = any spar* carried aloft**. (more specifically, a long tapered timber hung on a mast to which is bent a sail, and may be further qualified as a square, lateen, or lug yard. The first is hung at right angles to the mast, the last two hang obliquely). (Source. 04.02.2026)

spar = a thick pole or piece of wood; (In a nautical context: any linear object used as a mast, sprit, yard, boom, pole or gaff). (Source. 04.02.2026)

**aloft = above, overhead, in a high place; up. (In a nautical context: In the top, at the masthead***, or on the higher yards or rigging.) (Source. 04.02.2026)

***masthead = the top of a mast. (Source. 04.02.2026)

hawser = a thick or heavy-duty cable or rope used to tow or moor a ship. (Source. 04.02.2026)

Artocarpus = a genus of approximately 60 trees and shrubs of Southeast Asian and Pacific origin, belonging to the mulberry family, Moraceae. Most species of Artocarpus are restricted to Southeast Asia; a few cultivated species are more widely distributed, especially A. altilis (breadfruit) and A. heterophyllus (jackfruit), which are cultivated throughout the tropics.

The name Artocarpus is derived from the Greek words artos ("bread") and karpos ("fruit"). (Source. 04.02.2026)

Given the location of the story, it is likely that the trees Master Catrame refers to are either the breadfruit or the jackfruit.

areca (palm) = a species of palm native to the Philippines cultivated for areca nuts (also known as betel nuts).

Other names for this palm are:

• areca nut palm; 
• betel palm; 
• betel nut palm;
• Indian nut; 
• Pinang palm;
• catechu. 

This palm is commonly called the betel tree because its fruit, the areca nut, which are often chewed along with the betel leaf, a leaf from a vine of the family Piperaceae.

span (or handbreath) = a space equal to the breadth of the hand; a palm*. (Source. 07.02.2026)

*palm = any of various units of length notionally derived from the length of the palm from the wrist to the base of the fingers. (Source. 07.02.2026)

Tertian fever = a type of malaria caused by the parasites P. falciparum, P. vivax, or P. ovale (all of these are carried by mosquitos, specifically the female Anopheles one). (Source. 07.02.2026)

sirrah  = an archaic, extended form of sir. (Source. 07.02.2026)

anthropophagus (pl. anthropophagi) = cannibal; man-eater. (Source. 07.02.2026)

squealer = pig. (Source. 07.02.2026)

mulberry (tree) = any of several trees, of the genus Morus, having edible fruits. (Source. 07.02.2026)

freighter (or cargo ship) = a ship used mainly to carry freight (cargo, goods). (Source 1. 07.02.2026) (Source 2. 07.02.2026)

👑👑👑

Nobody from the crew showed up on Master Catrame's fourth day of tales. Everyone was so scared of the old man's funereal tales, they would shiver in fear at the slightest sound from the bottom of the cargo hold, dreading the apparition of the ghosts from the Charon*; they would turn pale at the sight of any old ship on the horizon, thinking that it was the Flying Dutchman, and would get startled each time they would hear the waves crash slightly louder against the sides of the ship, thinking that they were hearing the Englishman's bell** or would see the king of the sea appear out of nowhere***.

They had had enough of those legends, and should papa Catrame keep at it, most likely nobody would have remained on board the moment the ship would have made landfall in the ports of India.

That evening, papa Catrame was on his own for a good while, just sitting on the barrel; but he didn't seem upset about it. He drew from his pocket a big piece of paper, picked up a piece of charcoal, wrote a few lines with lopsided and bulging letters and stuck that kind of notice to the mainmast.

Having done that, he returned to the barrel, making himself as comfortable as he could, and lighting up his good ol' pipe, started smoking like a chimney.

We had all noticed the old man's sole maneuver and, pushed by an irresistible curiosity, drew near the mainmast so as to see what was written on the piece of paper.

Deciphering those scrawls was no small feat, seeing as Master Catrame wrote like a true sailor, making certain strokes thick, and tails so long that one couldn't tell where they began and where they ended. In the end, though, to our astonishment, we managed to read the following bizarre caption:"How a Solomon's Cross turned Master Catrame in the king of an island!".

"What does that even mean?", the topman asked.

"By Bacchus****!", the captain exclaimed. "It's tonight's novella's title."

"What?! Papa Catrame was a king...?", everyone shouted.

"That's what he claims."

"What on Earth does that even mean?"

"And it has something to do with Solomon's cross!"

"Papa Catrame has gone mad!"

"The Englishman pulled his legs and fear has messed up his brain."

"Silence!", the captain exclaimed imperiously. "We don't judge a book by its cover... March on! Let's go hear the tale of the old (sea) dog!..."

When papa Catrame saw all of sitting around his barrel, a satisfied smile crossed his face as he cheerfully rubbed his hands together. Without a doubt, he was proud of the original stunt he had pulled in order to have us come running.

"Papa Catrame, you promised us a marvellous tale, tonight", the captain spoke, "and it seems like this time around it doesn't involve ghost ships, nor dead that ring the bell. If you'll keep us cheerful and merry, I promise you not one, but six bottles of Spanish wine*****, of the kind that makes men your age be over the moon with happiness.

 "I'll keep merry.", the master answered with a sardonic smile.

"No legends then, tonight?"

"Legends are always part of my narrations."

A dissatisfied grimace crossed the captain's face; but papa Catrame reassured him with a gesture.

"Had it been a sinister tale, I wouldn't be here to tell it.", he said. "It happened to me; but even though I was in grave danger and was almost skewered like a goat kid, it's not at all frightening."

"Open up your beak and sing, my dear old man."

"Tornadoes!", Master Catrame exclaimed. "Here's a phenomenon that sends shivers down the spine of the oldest and bravest of sailors, that makes captains and officers turn pale, and the passengers that venture on the ocean almost die of fright.

"Whom of us hasn't shuddered in fear at the sight of those approaching columns made of whirling water, that disturb the sea, that tear down everything in their path, that crush the most gigantic of ships, lifting them up as if they were blades of straw, only to sink them into the deepest abyss as it breaks and overturns them? Who hasn't..."

"Hey! Papa Catrame!", the captain interrupted him. "What do tornadoes have to do with Solomon's cross, your kingdom, and your almost getting skewered?"

"Have a little bit of patience, sir."

"Forget about the tornadoes and get a move on, then. We're all familiar with them, by Bacchus!"

"You might have heard about the terrible shipwreck of the Albert in the Pacific Ocean, many years or so ago, at 14° latitude to the South, and at 204° longitude East******."

"I had heard about it when I was a young boy.", the captain answered. "I know that it had been lifted by a tornado and then thrown into the abyss."

"Do you know the reason why it sank?"

"No!", all exclaimed.

"Because of a Solomon's Cross that the master mariner did not have the time to make."

"Oh!", the sailors exclaimed incredulous, while the captain split his sides laughing.

"Listen first and only then judge for yourself", Master Catrame imperturbably added. "As you might have already figured it out, I was part of the Albert's crew, a big sailing ship that was flying under the English flag and which was meant for the transportation of immigrants from the Celestial Empire******* to California.

We had had crossed the big ocean by then, and even though the times when we thought its name, Pacific, was appropiate were few, nothing ever truly dangerous had happened to us. On our fifth voyage, near the Archipelago of the Navigator Islands********, which are also called the Samoan Islands, here comes a furious hurricane towards our ship eager to assail it.

It was a desperate fight to avoid being dragged towards one of the many islands that obstruct that great ocean, aware that they were populated by certain chocolate-and-liquorice coloured ugly mugs, whom have the terrible habit of throwing inside a pot or to skewer those ill-fated ones that their benevolent father - that is to say, the ocean - brings to their beaches. All of our efforts were in vain. The ship staggered like a sailor that has drunk three bottles of rhum, leaning now to port, now to starboard, taking on board real mountains of water; its masts oscillate as if they're about to break into a thousand pieces; the prow, bashed more and more furiously, starts to split, thus the ocean makes its appearance in the cargo hold.

One could still hope; except we couldn't, because the devil, too, wanted to be part of that. It was about four in the afternoon, not a minute sooner nor later, when we saw a type of cone separate itself from the mass of dark clouds. Little by little, it lengthens itself, then it shortens itself, then goes back to lenghtening itself, as if it was attraced by an arcane force.

Under that sort of tornado the sea would rise to frightening heights, then fall back down, forming a sort of vortex, then it would rise again, as if it had a deep desire to shake hands with that piece of dark cloud. 

That ugly game lasted for about ten minutes, when finally, dark cloud and sea had become one. The tornado had formed! And what a tornado that was, my boys! It was a column as thick as an island; the dark cloud was sucking in the sea in sheer anger, the wind was carrying it in a dizzyingly rotary movement, pushing it towards us, whom were no longer able to avoid it, since the ship's wheel had gone to pieces and the sails were torn to shreds...

Papa Catrame stopped to catch his breath and empty another glass of Cipro; then, with his eyes fixed on us, abruptly asked:

"Do you believe in the efficacy of Solomon's Cross?"

"Yes", some answered.

"No", was the answer of others.

The captain, instead, shrugged and smiled a sarcastic smile.

"In that case, to those of you that don't believe in it, to those of you that have never tried to make the sign of the Cross on a tornado, because, had you done that, you would have seen the tornado dissipate instantly" - Master Catrame said in a professor's voice. - "Do you think that ye sailors of old had not dissipated tornadoes this way, that they taught us this infallible method for no real reason? Nowadays they say that there's another way. Lies! It's the sign of the Cross that is needed, Papa Catrame tells you so!

I've seen it made not just once, but ten, twenty, fifty times, and the tornado always either broke apart before reaching the ship or turned around to go into the open sea. It was enough for the oldest sailor on board to go to the stern, would make the sign of the Cross on either the taffrail or the tiller of the ship's wheel and the rotating column would simply fall apart.

That's enough of that, though; let's go back to our story, or I will never finish it before morning comes. Give a minute!... Ah, yes!... By a thousand hatches! It's exactly like so: the tornado was approaching at a vertiginous speed and we found ourselves completely unable to avoid it. Thus, it was necessary for the sign of the Cross to be made immediately or it was all over for us.

Our Master, or bo's'n, as the sailors from beyond the English Channel********** call them, an old man who was who knows many years old, lost the stolidity and rigidity of his kind for the first time in his life, and ran, more like flew, actually, towards the stern in order to make the sign of the Cross on the taffrail. But even in this ill-fated voyage, here comes the devil to meddle in our business and our poor bo's'n slipped and fell on his head, dying instantly.

The tornado, no longer stopped by the mysterious force of the Cross, swooped down on us, hit us, lifts us up. If I were to tell you what I saw and felt in that moment, I can honestly promise you I wouldn't be able to do it even today.

I heard a shatter of wood, a laceration of sails, then an odd whistling, horrifying roars, and saw the ship spinning between the sea and the dark clouds of the sky, in an immense water column. I felt myself being lifted up to a phenomenal height then, I don't know how, found myself under the waves of the sea. Once I had gone back up to the surface, I couldn't find anyone nor anything: not the tornado, not the ship, not my crewmates; but everywhere around me there were pieces of the planking, of the masts, yards, crates, barrels and all kinds of other things, all clashing furiously as they floated.

The catastrophe was complete: the Albert was swallowed by the tornado, after having been disarticulated by the brutality of the water.

Was I the sole survivor of that horrible shipwreck or was there anyone else, possibly nearby? At that moment, I couldn't know, for no human voice had answered my desperate cries. Later on, though, a year or two after the facts, I happily learned that several of my crewmates had been miraculously saved, including the ill-fated bo's'n, whom was the cause of the sinking of the Albert. Ah! Had that wretched Englishman not been in such a hurry, maybe I'd still be aboard that magnificent sailing ship, earning who knows how much...!".

Papa Catrame sighed a sigh as long as an anchor's hawser, which caused laughter in the entire audience, took heart as he gulped down half the bottle of the wine that the cabin attendant was pouring him, cleaned his mouth with the back of his hand and proceeded to continue his narration.

"I must confess you that I felt great fear as I found myself alone in the middle of the ocean, at the mercy of the waves that were shoving inside of me endless glasses of water, making me sneeze as much as someone that was sniffing tobacco*********** for the first time. And the fear grew even greater, for I knew I was in one of those areas where those fearsome devourers of sailors known as sharks were not few. But I didn't want to die without fighting and challenging the waves for my hide, thrashing about like the devil in the Holy Water.

After having wandered around for a while, now pushed forward, now backwards, and now tossed around with little regard for my person, I had finally reached a scrap of the Albert. It was a piece of our galley, the deck if I'm not mistaken, and it was quite convenient for me, so much so that I had lied down and, wouldn't you believe it, fell asleep in such a deep slumber that not even Peking's Big Bell************ could have woken me up.

"You can only imagine my surprise when, upon opening my eyes, I no longer was on the roof of our galley, no longer on the ocean, but softly lying down over fresh grass, in the shade of trees whose leaves were a few metres long, I no longer know if they were palms belonging to the Artocarpus genus or if they were areca palms; but that's not important right now.

I got up in a seating position, thinking that I must be the butt of a dream, and only then had I realized that I was surrounded by thirty, forty ugly mugs, chocolate-and-pepper coloured, as nude as Adam, actually, no, since they were wearing a ring that went through their nose, and on top of their heads, two or three birds-of-paradise feathers.

Seeing me still alive, those rascals barred their mouths so much so that it sent shivers down my spine. It seems as if their heads had split open in half with a single blow, displaying rows of teeth that would make a crocodile envious. They were laughing like crazy, their hands pounding on their bellies, and rubbing one another's nose with so much energy that they could have stretched the length of half a handbreath.

I felt as if I had been hit by the Tertian fever, and for good reason too, for I was not unaware that those merry sirrahs had the bad habit of eating castaways, and I could feel myself plummeting inside a great, big cooking pot, to be boiled together with some green sauce or having an enormous spit go through me.

I swear to you that in that moment, in the depths of my heart, I wanted that good-for-nothing bo's'n to go stuff a goose, as he was the sole cause of all of my misfortunes, since he hadn't done in time..."

"We know the rest, Papa Catrame.", the captain interrupted him."Let go of what happened with Solomon's Cross and keep going, because I am curious to know how did your reign come to an end."

"Going back to what I was saying...", the Master replied."My fear lasted but a few minutes, because, to my great surprise, and despite having taken those savages for extremely voracious anthropophagi, they started being extremely corteous towards me. Some of them were massagging my limbs, others were cooling me down with the help of big tree leaves or would offer me fruits or they would come to rub their nose against mine as a sign of friendship, as it is a custom of the Pacific islanders to greet one another in this bizarre way.

Once they saw me calm and sated, they gestured for me to follow them, leading me to a big village, whose population had received me with great, joyous acclamations. There, they put a crown of feathers on top of my head, pass a copper ring through my nose, and finally, led me to a comfy hut, making me understand that from then on I was to be their king!

"Strawberry trees!*************", I thought to myself. "Never has a sailor been luckier than I!"

But I was to find out later what kind of luck had befallen on me! I still think shivers going down my spine, each time I think about it.

Ah, I digress. Here I was, then, king of an island, because of the bo's'n inability to keep the boat safe. My subjects beaked their backs to bring me the juiciest products of both the land and the sea. Every day, inside my hut, it was raining every type of fishes**************, roasted squealers with certain kind of yummy roots, delicious fruits and vases full of a kind of a beer that was quite spicy. Of course, Papa Catrame being a great devourer, just like sailors are in general, did not lose time in taking advantage of all those blessings from God! I would eat not unlike a wolf, three breakfasts in the morning, two lunches in the afternoon, or three or even four dinners during the course of the night. In a month, I had become so thick that I had had to have the door of my hut widened and my cape redone four separate times, a cape made from the canvas of a mulberry tree and which had been given to me by the populace.

I have no doubts that I would have become as big as an elephant, or at least a rhinoceros, had I continued that blessed life; but it wasn't meant to be.

One fine morning, actually, one ugly morning, I received a visit from six dignitaries, six valiant chiefs, but also masters of gastronomy, as I would find out later. I thought they had come to discuss affairs of the state, actually, I had got it in my head that they were coming to discuss a marriage proposal with some liquorice-coloured beauty so my dinasty wouldn't vanish with me; you can only guess my surprise when I saw them approach with some suspicious-looking expressions, that were betraying a burning yearning, and examining me with the utmost care, palpating my arms and thighs. I heard them talk something among them in a language I couldn't understand, then greeted me with the deepest bow and left.

I was perplexed, unsure of what to think of that thorough visit. I thought that maybe my subjects thought I wasn't eating enough and that I would waste away, so, that day, I ate six breakfasts, four lunches, and five dinners. Dear me! They were to be my last meal!

In the evening, I was serenely digesting my fifth dinner when my previous six guests had returned, accompanied by the royal chef, and subjecting me to another meticulous visit. Once done, they left, but not without first making a new, even more respectuous and deep bow; but as they were leaving, I had heard these mysterious words:

"He's good for tomorrow! We're all set!"

My thoughts started taking a more serious turn. What did the royal chef have anything to do with it? That man was not a high-ranking dignitary and I had good reason to be offended at that lack of etiquette. Moreover, what did they mean by "for tomorrow"? I became restless and went to look for my prime minister.

I had found him in the kitchen, cleaning a pot so big it could have held two men inside...!

You can imagine that I was under shock. Why was the prime minister bothering with cleaning up the crockery?

"Kara-Olo!", I exclaimed with a severe scowl."Is this how you deal with the affairs of the State? Goodness gracious! A prime minister that does the work of a scullery maid...! Shame on you, you piece of jackass...!"

"Your Majesty", he humbly addressed me."I am simply making sure that everything is ready for tomorrow's banquet."

"A banquet?", I exclaimed."Could it be that my people want to offer me a national lunch?"

This time, it was Kara-Olo that looked at me in shock.

"But it's you that will be offering lunch to the populace!", he exclaimed.

"I...!"

"Yes, Your Majesty", my prime minister candidly replied."You're thick enough, and I was just measuring this pot so I could make sure that you could fit inside of it...!"

I understood everything all too well now! They were about to eat the king, Catrame I! It was for this reason that they had brought me so many and so many delicacies! I had remained breathless and motionless for a good while. I can bet that, in that moment, I must've been as white as a seagull, and, had anyone opened one of my blood vessels, not a single drop of blood would have come out.

I dragged myself back to my appartment, wet from head to toes from a cold, gelid sweat. I don't know how many hours I had remained slumped on my throne. When I had come to my senses, the night was about to end, but a deep silence was still reigning over my village. I resorted to a desperate resolution.

I took a paint brush tinged with black ink, and wrote, with a steady enough hand, the following words on the walls of my royal dwelling:

I AM GIVING UP THE THRONE: EAT MY PRIME MINISTER INSTEAD OF ME. - CATRAME I

I punched my crown, opened my sailor's knife, which I had jealously kept to and on myself, pierced the door with it, crossed the forest, and once arrived at the seashore, jumped in a canoe, abandoning without a single shred of regret both my kingdom and my subjects.

Eight days later I was picked up by a Danish freighter. The fear of them catching up with me and being cooked in a green sauce as well as hunger had reduced me to skin and bones.

Had my former subjects seen me, who knows to what length they would have stretched their noses."

"And so", the captain said,"you, papa Catrame, you had become king because of a Solomon's Cross that wasn't done. Quite the strike of luck, huh?"

"Such a wonderful strike of luck", papa Catrame answered seriously,"that I would have gifted you my crown with the greatest pleasure."

"I would have at least become thick."

"To then thicken your subjects. Good night: I am going back to my cargo hold...!"

"One moment, Catrame."

"Yes, Cap'n'? What do you wish from me?"

"To give you a piece of advice. When you'll see a tornado, leave Solomon's Cross, which is nothing but a mere invention for gullible people, and fire a cannon; without a ball, if so you like. The detonation will be enough to break the tornado apart: I assure you. Good night, Catrame, both the First and Last!"

👑👑👑

Source of the tale. (22.01.2026)

Between fairy tales and reality: tRANSLATOR'S NOTE

Faith and fear both demand you believe in something you cannot see. You choose. (Bob Proctor)

As I kept translating this, I wondered to myself which Cross was Master Catrame talking about; because I was unsure whether this was some sort of archaic sailor slang, or if he actually meant the actual Christian Cross. Turns out, he refers to the actual Christian Cross and its power. Whether you side with Master Catrame or with his captain on this, it doesn't change that the Cross is a symbol of Christianity and that Christ was crucified on it. Since this is a part of history everyone is aware about, what I will write in this section for the Christian Cross will be something different. Still related to the Cross, though.

With Saint Patrick's Day right around the corner, it seems appropiate to speak of one of the miracles that a spiritual daughter of Saint Patrick has done, through the power of Christ's Cross. However, that will be towards the end of this section.

What do you know about the Cross before it came a powerful symbol of Christianity? I assume not very much, like most.

The Cross, before Christ, was not a holy item; in fact, it was the most horrendous, painful, and cruel form of execution. It was not the blessing and powerful tool against evil that Christians in this day and age say it is. It is so now, but before Christ's sacrifice on the Cross it wasn't. It was an execution meant for the worst of the worst of criminals. That's right. It was meant for the lowest of the low. Not only was the Cross a method of torture, it was the very opposite of a blessing.

But through Christ's sacrifice, it also became a sacrificial altar. It became a sacrificial altar because Christ willingly took on this torture, in order to open the gates of Heaven to humanity, transforming an instrument of torture into a sacrificial altar. However, the Cross does not symbolize just suffering (and I would like here to remind you how we use the phrase "each person carries their own Cross" (which can easily be understood as one's own path)), but it also symbolizes Christ's Ressurection, for without the Ressurection, Christ's suffering on the Cross would not have the value that we currently assign it to have.

This is how the Cross became a powerful spiritual tool against evil, specifically the devil. It is, nowadays, a blessed sign, an undefeated tool in the war against evil. God transformed torture and death, which are evil's greatest weapons, in a tool meant to help humanity in its fight against it. Because the cross, initially, was the evil one's weapon, but God blessed it and gave it power over him, through His Son's sacrifice. Because Christ, please do not forget, was both God and human. 

This said, before I move on and write about the miracle I mentioned earlier, I would like to add that God can only work through people if people are first willing to embrace their Cross (and by this I mean their life's path). God does not push His will on people; if someone doesn't want to embrace their Cross (or can't in that moment), God will not force them. This is where free will comes into place. It comes down to whether someone accepts for God to work through them.

Also, please note that I never said it would be easy to carry one's Cross. Keep in mind that it was meant as a method of torture initially, so it wasn't meant to be easy; it's just that through Christ's Sacrifice, that hardship became a helpful tool in the war against evil, rather than just a hardship, a horrendous pain, and something much, much worse at the end, with no actual meaning. It is because of His Sacrifice that that kind of suffering now has meaning.

Moving on, the spiritual daughter of Saint Patrick that I mentioned ealier, and whose name I wished to keep a mystery until now is none other than another one of Ireland's protectors: Saint Brigid of Kildare (or Saint Brigid of Ireland). 

Ireland has three national Saints: Saint Patrick, whom was Saint Brigid's spiritual father, Saint Brigid, whom we'll talk about in a minute, and Saint Columba (also known as Colmcille, which comes from a nickname people gave him: Colum-cille, meaning "The Church's Dove").

The story of the miracle done by Saint Brigid is as follows:

During that time, people had gathered in Tailtiu (Ireland). Saint Patrick, too, was there. They were trying to find a solution to a difficult problem. A woman was accusing one of Saint Patrick's priests that he was the father of her child. The name of the priest was Brón (whom would later become bishop of Cassel-Irra, close to Sligo, in Ireland).

"How can something like this be?", everyone was asking. 

"It's not that hard to believe.", the woman insisted."I went to Brón in order to receive the blessing to become a nun and offer my maidenhood to God. But this disrespectful priest stained me and so, I gave birth to his son."

As they were discussing this, Saint Brigid arrived and headed towards them. After that, Bishop Mel told Saint Patrick:

"Maiden Brigid is heading towards them and will make known, through the gift that she has, whether this is true or false, because there is nothing in Heaven or Earth that Christ will not unveil for her, if she asks Him. And this must be done in this case. She must be called to speak differently towards those that have gathered, because she will not do any miracles in front of you, Patrick" (Saint Patrick was her spiritual father and the one that had baptized her, and she didn't want to do any miracles in front of him, out of humility. Even so, in some situations, we will see that she had done miracles in front of him, when in a situation it was of utmost necessity).

Brigid had shown up in front of the people. People rose up as a sign of respect. Then, the Saint distanced herself from the crowd, and separately approached both the priest and the woman, asking them a few questions, without Saint Patrick joining her.

"Whose child is this?", Saint Brigid asked.

"Brón's.", she answered.

"This is not true.", Saint Brigid replied.

She did the sign of the Cross on the face of the woman, and right in that moment, the woman's face and tongue started to swell. Not too long after, Saint Patrick came and found all of them away from the crowd. Saint Bridgit then addressed the child in front of the whole crowd, even though he was much too young to be able to talk:

"Who's your father?", Saint Brigid asked. 

"Brón is not my father, but another man, who's standing a bit further away, over there. My mother is telling lies!"

Everyone thanked God and suggested to punish the guilty party. But Saint Brigid did not accept that and instead said:

"Let this woman go, so she can repent."

And that is exactly what happened, and the swelling that the woman had gotten because of her false accusations disappeared. The community rejoiced, the accusations towards the priest were dropped, and Saint Brigid was praised."

If you're curious about Saint Brón and would like to learn more about him, you can go here. (07.02.2026).

As an ending note, I would like to add that it is up to you whether you believe in the power of the Christian Cross or not. Your spiritual journey is your own problem.

(Source 1. 07.02.2026) (Source 2. 07.02.2026) (Source 3. 07.02.2026) (Source 4. 07.02.2026) (Source 5. 07.02.2026) (Source 6. 07.02.2026) (Source 7. 07.02.2026) (Source 8. 07.02.2026)

___________________________________________________________________________________

*This refers to the first tale that was told by Master Catrame, The Cursed Ship. You can read it here. (22.01.2026)

**This refers to Master Catrame's third tale, The Englishman's Bell, which you can read here (22.01.2026).

***This is a recall to Master Catrame's second tale, The Crossing Of The Line, which can be read here (22.01.2026).

****Bacchus (initially known as Dyonisus, later on as Bacchus, a name adopted by the Romans, as well, later on) is the god of wine-making, orchards and fruit, vegetation, fertility, festivity, insanity, ritual madness, religious ecstasy, and theatre. His name is due to a frenzy he is said to induce called baccheia (or bakcheia, a sort of madness meant to free you from your normal self through ecstasy and wine). (Source 1. 22.01.2026) (Source 2. 22.01.2026)

***** The wine that the captain might be talking about is a wine called Vega Sicilia Unico, made by the Spanish winery Bodegas Vega Sicilia, which was founded in 1864, and which was among the best during that time. Bodegas Vega Sicilia's wines are still recognised today as one of the finest and most valued on the market worldwide, with its top wine selling for an average of $497 per bottle. The Spanish winery is located in Ribera del Duero Denominación de Origen in the Province of Valladolid, Castile and León (northern Spain). (Source 1. 28.01.2026) (Source 2. 28.01.2026)

****** The coordinates 14° South and 204° East correspond to a location in the Pacific Ocean, west of South America and east of Australia. To interpret this: Latitude 14° South (14°S): 14 degrees south of the equator. Longitude 204° East (204°E): Because longitude is typically measured from -180° to +180°, 204° East is calculated as 360°-204°=156°West (156°W). This point (14°S, 156°W) is in the South Pacific Ocean, approximately near the Cook Islands or French Polynesia. You can see the exact place here (28.01.2026). Given the name of the ship and its place of sinking, I suspect that the ship Captain Salgari is referencing in this story is Prince Albert, belonging to the state of New Zealand, and which was wrecked off the south coast of South Island late in 1862. South Island (alternative name Te Waipounamu, in the Māori language) is the larger of the two main islands of New Zealand by surface area, the other being the smaller but more populous North Island. Captain Salgari's tales are told 30-50 years after they had occured. Here (28.01.2026) and here (28.01.2026) you have two maps that are approximately of the possible place where this tale may take place. 

(Source 1. 28.01.2026) (Source 2. 28.01.2026)

******* Celestial Empire =  (Imperial) China; or Middle Kingdom (from the translation of its native Chinese name, Zhongguo). (Source 1. 28.01.2026) (Source 2. 28.01.2026)

******** The Navigator Islands is a term coined by French Explorer Louis-Antoine Bougainville when he first encountered and landed in Taū (Taʻū is part of the Manu'a's Islands, which are part of the Samoan Islands), Manu'a and Samoa (island country in Polynesia (subregion of Oceania, which is a geographical region that includes Australasia, Melanesia, Micronesia, and Polynesia)) on 03 May 1768. That name was used by missionaries until about 1845, and in official European dispatches until about 1870. (Source 1. 28.01.2026) (Source 2. 28.01.2026) (Source 3. 28.01.2026) (Source 4. 28.01.2026) (Source 5. 28.01.2026) (Source 6. 28.01.2026)

*********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).

********** The English Channel (also known as the Channel) is an arm of the Atlantic Ocean that separates Southern England from Northern France. (Source. 03.02.2026)

*********** Tobacco is a term used for leaves of Nicotiana tabacum and some other species cultivated and harvested to make cigarettes, cigars, snuff, for smoking in pipes or for chewing. In this context, Master Catrame might refer to the snuff, since he mentioned sniffing tabacco. Snuff is a type of smokeless tobacco product made from finely ground or pulverized tobacco leaves. It is snorted or "sniffed" into the nasal cavity, delivering nicotine and a flavored scent to the user. (Source 1. 04.02.2026) (Source 2. 04.02.2026)

Note: This has been written for purely informational purposes. This blog does NOT encourage the use of tobacco, especially because its use is a cause or risk factor for many deadly diseases, particularly those affecting the heart, liver, and lungs, as well as many cancers. In 2008, the World Health Organization named tobacco use as the world's single greatest preventable cause of death. (Source. 04.02.2026)

************Peking is an older English spelling for the city of Beijing (China). It is still used today, but the term Beijing is much more common. The Big Bell that Master Catrame is referring to is most likely the bell from the Big Bell Temple (or Dazhong Temple), a temple which was built in 1733 during the Qing dynasty. Its name comes from the famous "Yongle Big Bell" that is housed inside the temple, which was cast during the Ming dynasty and whose sound can reach up to 120 decibels and can be heard 50 kilometers away from the temple in the depth of night. It weighs about 46 tons, with a height of 5.5 meters and a diameter of 3.3 meters.

The temple also houses an ancient bell museum, known as Big Bell Temple Ancient Bell Museum since 1985, featuring hundreds of bronze bells from temples throughout China. (Source. 04.02.2026)

*************In the original Italian text, Master Catrame says Corbezzoli!, corbezzolo being the Italian word for the strawberry tree, which is considered a symbol of unity for the nation of Italy, due to its green leaves, its white flowers, and red fruits, colours that recall the Italian flag itself. An English equivalent would have been "Goodness!", but that seemed to take away from Master Catrame's whimsy, hence why I opted to keep the expression in English, as well. (Source. 07.02.2026)

**************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)

***************Tailtiu is an old name for Ireland. The name belongs to a presumed goddess from Irish mythology. (Source. 07.02.2026)

___________________________________________________________________________________

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.