Josef

He went to the tack room first, where he took as much of the fishing tackle as he could carry and lowered it onto the pad.

He then went to the bunk room and filled his backpack with as many books as it would hold. At least his love of reading

would be satisfied.

A return to the tack room unearthed what, to Josef, was an invaluable find. A rope ladder had been partially covered by

the tarpaulins. Josef took the ladder and tied it to the portside deck rail. He would now have much easier access to the

boat.

It took him only a few minutes to scramble down the ladder and haul his sled to higher ground. He unloaded the sled and

rushed back to the boat. He went through every cupboard and compartment. There was not much left to salvage. A few

food items, books, more lengths of rope and two more tarpaulins was all he could carry away. Every-thing else was either

too heavy or was fastened down and could not be removed. A week later, during an unusually high tide, the boat was swept

out to sea and was never seen again.

Life on the island, or what Josef thought of as “his” island, was almost perfect. The days were sunny and brisk; the nights

were cold but never below freezing. He ate well, and even better after he learned to use the fishing gear and catch fish.

Once again both Josef and Ami began to put on weight. Josef improved the cave by bringing in pine boughs for his bed. To

keep the wind out he rigged one of the tarps across the windward end of the cave.

After two weeks he settled into a routine. He bathed in the stream each morning and fished off the rocks in the

afternoon. He discovered a hole near the mouth of the stream where fish came to eat. Each time he fished this hole he

caught two or three small fish; what kind of fish he didn’t know but they were good to eat. Part of each day was spent

gathering wood and at least an hour reading. He also began to explore the area around camp. Long walks in each direction

always took him to rocky cliffs he was not able to climb. Even walking up the stream brought him to a waterfall that dropped

from the same cliffs. As far as Josef could tell, he was marooned.

He also started keeping a diary. He began by writing down, in a notebook he had salvaged, everything he could

remember about his life since his family was killed. Once he had the past written down he began writing a summary of what

he did each day. One of his entries read, “Took Ami to the stream and pulled him into the water. He was so filthy and

needed a bath so badly the water turned black.” From that time on Ami entered the water without any coaxing.

Josef had all but lost track of time. He knew it was December, but what part he wasn’t sure, probably close to

Christmas. He vowed to set aside one day soon and observe it as Christmas day. As it turned out, the day he selected was

a stormy one. It was another storm like the last one he had been in and lasted three days. During this time he and Ami

stayed close to the cave, venturing out only when nature called or water was needed. He had to rely on his dwindling supply

of packaged foods.

Early one morning, a week after the storm, Josef and Ami went for a walk along the shore north of camp. After more

than an hour they reached a headland which stretched out into the sea. The headland apparently was an extension of the

high cliffs he had come to on all of his other walks. The cliffs here, however, were not as high. Josef wondered if he could

climb to the top. If he could he would be able to see what lay beyond.

He called Ami and began to climb. A few times Ami needed to be boosted over a rock but the climb wasn’t as difficult

as he had feared. When he reached the top what looked like paradise stretched out in front of him. At the foot of the cliff a

broad, sandy beach began and extended to the north as far as he could see. It reminded Josef of pictures he had seen in

magazines, advertising travels to far-off, exotic tropical islands.

Josef sat there entranced. If only he had been shipwrecked on this beach instead of the desolate, rocky shore where his

camp was located. Then, as he thought about it, he realized this beach wouldn’t provide the good natural resources he had

available. There was no sign of a fresh water stream. The rocky coastline, he was sure, was better for fishing and his cave

provided good shelter. What more did he need? He needed people, other than that his life was almost perfect. He also

missed his music.

Hunger pangs soon reminded him that he hadn’t eaten since early morning. With a last look at the beautiful beach he

called Ami, scrambled down the cliff and returned to camp. He mad up his mind he would return there in a few days. When

he did he would take some food along and explore the beach. For now he was thankful he had food and shelter.

Three days later Josef carried out his promise to himself to return to the beach. He arose early and packed a supply of

food and water in his backpack. With Ami by his side he returned to the headland. Upon reaching the summit he

immediately discovered he was not alone. About a kilometer away, moving in his direction, was a fishing boat. The boat

appeared to be trolling close to shore.

In an attempt to attract the fishermen’s attention he began shouting and waving his arms. The boat continued on its way

with no sign Josef had been seen. He clambered down the hillside to the beach, slipping and sliding as he did. Twice he fell

and rolled a short distance before he could stop himself.

When he reached the beach he ran toward the boat, waving his arms and shouting. He was almost even with the boat

before a man on board looked in his direction and waved back.

“Help me,” Josef shouted, in Croatian. “I’m alone here, shipwrecked.” He repeated this in French and in English. When

the man called back Josef couldn’t make out what he said; the sound of the surf breaking on the beach prevented him from

hearing.

Josef noticed, however, that the boat had stopped and one of the fishermen had dropped the anchor. The first man then

lowered a small row boat into the water and headed to shore. As the boat approached Josef waded into the water and

seized a rope attached to the bow. He then steadied the boat while the man climbed out to join him.

The fisherman was a huge, bearded man dressed in rough peasant clothes. He immediately began talking to Josef in a

language Josef didn’t understand. When the man realized he wasn’t being understood he tried another language which

Josef still did not understand. Finally, Josef stopped him and tried the languages he knew; first Croatian, then French, then

English.

When Josef tried the English the man held up his hand and said, “English, a little bit, I speak.”

Josef then explained as best he could, what had happened to him and about his camp on the other side of the bluff.

Much of this communication was done with gestures and hand signs. At last, it seemed, the man understood what Josef was

telling him. When he did he asked Josef if he would like to come with him on his boat. Josef, with tears in his eyes, thanked

him and said yes.

The fisherman then gestured for Josef to get into his rowboat. When Josef climbed in Ami balked and refused to come

to him in spite of all the pleading and scolding Josef tried. Finally, with the help of the fisherman, Ami was partly pulled and

partly carried onto the boat. The fisherman, whose name Josef had learned was Antonio, rowed them out to the anchored

fishing boat. Here he helped Josef to climb aboard and handed Ami up to him.

The other fisherman was Antonio’s teenage son; Antonio introduced him as Luciano. The anchor was raised and the

boat got underway. Antonio turned the boat away from shore and rounded the point of the headlands at a great distance. In

his broken English he explained to Josef that they had to stay far away from shore when they rounded the point. There were

many rocks extending far out to sea.

It was almost an hour later before Josef directed them to an anchorage offshore from his camp. Because of the rocks

the anchorage was much farther from shore than the previous one had been. Rowing to shore was more difficult and took

much longer. This time Luciano accompanied Josef instead of Antonio. Ami, happily, stayed on the fishing boat. Luciano

rowed carefully around rocks so the boat would not be carried onto them by the incoming tide.

Upon reaching camp Josef had to make a decision. What should he take with him and what should he leave behind?

The rowboat was small and could not possibly carry all the things he had salvaged from his wrecked boat. He knew he

wanted to save all the books, they were important to him. Most of them could be packed in his empty back- pack. There

was little left of his packaged or canned food. All that was left Josef packed in one of the duffel bags. When he pointed to

the tarpaulins and ropes Luciano nodded his head vigorously; also, the fishing tackle. The ropes were added to the duffel

containing the food; the tarps were stuffed into the other duffel. Luciano took one duffel and the fishing gear to the boat.

Josef carried his knapsack and the second duffel. He then took a careful look around and decided there was nothing else of

value.

Rowing back to the larger boat was difficult and slow. The tide was still coming in; also, a wind had come up and blew in

toward shore. More than an hour later they arrived back at Antonio’s boat. Josef was thankful Luciano was so strong; if he

had to row he never would have made it.

When they were back on board the fishing boat Antonio showed Josef a locker he had emptied. By moving the contents

of this locker to another he had provided Josef with a place to put all his belongings. The tarpaulins, ropes, and fishing

tackle Josef gave to Antonio. There was also a bunk in a forward cabin that Josef could use. Again, he thanked Antonio

and Luciano for rescuing him from his “island.”

During the next week Josef and his two new friends had many conversations. At first, understanding each other was

difficult but as they talked understanding became easier.

Josef talked of his life both before and after the fighting began. When he spoke of his family’s death the anguish was too

much for him; he broke into tears. Antonio instantly threw his arms around Josef and held him close. His description of the

storm-tossed voyage and shipwreck they both marveled at.

Antonio and his family lived in a small fishing village near Trieste in Italy. As Josef didn’t know where Trieste was

located Antonio explained it was on the Adriatic Sea near the northwestern border of Croatia. Their present fishing trip had

begun December 28, three days before picking Josef up. The date was a surprise to Josef.

“You rescued me on New Year’s Day,” he exclaimed. “What a wonderful way to start a new year.”

Before returning to their home the fishermen resumed their fishing. They crossed back and forth off shore, casting a

large net out as they did. Each time, after the entire net was cast out, it was cranked back in using a motorized winch. The

fish, mostly small, were thrown into the hold with other fish and covered with ice. This became Josef’s main job. Each time a

new catch was hauled aboard Josef climbed down into the hold and shoveled slivers of ice over it.

The days were long and tiring. Josef knew that being a fisherman was one job he would not choose to do, if he had a

choice. From what Antonio told him men from his village didn’t have a choice; either they fished or they starved. But fishing

wasn’t what it used to be.

“When I started going out with my father almost thirty years ago the fish were much larger than what we catch now. Only

a few of the fish I catch will be big enough to sell at the fish market. The rest, if I’m lucky, will be sold to one of the canneries

in Trieste.” A week later the hold was full. It was time for the fishermen to return home.

San Reino was a tiny fishing village with a cluttered harbor. When Josef and his friends arrived there were four fishing

boats at the dock waiting to be serviced. Antonio had to wait until space was available. Josef could see about a dozen

small houses clinging to the side of the steep hills that came down to the water’s edge. They all looked as if they had not

received a coat of paint in years. A rough dirt road snaked its way up the hillside behind the village, at the beginning of its

journey to Trieste.

“As you can see, we are a very poor village,” said Antonio. “There are too many people and not enough fish to go

around.”

“Why don’t you leave and find a job somewhere else?” Josef asked.

“Many of the young people have done that, including my oldest son. But finding work has not been easy for them. There

are now only fifty people living in the village, most of them old. I have three other children at home and one other family has

two children; everyone else is an adult. In a few years there won’t be enough people to operate the boats. Then the village

will die.”

While Antonio was talking one of the fishing boats pulled away from the dock and anchored in the bay. Antonio moved

his boat to take its place at the dock. The next two hours were busy ones. All the fish had to be unloaded from the hold and

sorted. The few large fish were sold to a fish vendor from Trieste and loaded on his truck. The rest went to a tanker type

truck from a Trieste cannery.

That evening Josef met the rest of Antonio’s family. His wife, Maria, was a pleasant, stout woman with hair turning gray.

The children were all girls ranging in age from 11 to 16. The wood frame house in which they lived was one of the largest in

the village. It was also the cleanest looking. The house was located close to the village square and had a small back yard.

Antonio explained they grew vegetables in the yard during the growing season.

Josef’s personal things were carried upstairs to a small bedroom overlooking the harbor. The room contained a double

bed, a dresser, and little else. “This is Luciano’s room,” Antonio said. “I’m afraid you’ll have to sleep in the same bed with

him. We have no place else.”

“Thank you, Antonio,” Josef replied. “I appreciate what you have done for me and hope I’m not causing a problem.”

“You’re quite welcome, Josef. Perhaps, in the future, we can find a better place for you to stay.”

The month of January went by rapidly; Josef was busy meeting new friends. The other family in the village had a son his

age named Giuseppe, which Josef later learned was Italian for Josef. For some time there was a language problem, as

Giuseppe spoke only Italian, but this was soon erased. Perhaps because of the early language training his father had

provided in French and English Josef learned Italian quickly. He and Giuseppe soon became friends.

Josef was helped in learning the language by a local woman who, in the absence of a regular school, held school at her

home. When Josef learned there was a teacher he immediately asked where her house was and then attended every day

for two hours. His efforts in trying to learn encouraged three other children to attend, including Giuseppe. The woman spoke

some English and helped Josef with other subjects as well as the Italian.

At other times during the day Josef and his new friend wandered the town. Giuseppe, whose family was the only one in

the village not involved in the fishing industry, lived in an old house at the north end of the village. Directly behind Giuseppe’s

house was a large vineyard which climbed the hillside as far as the eye could see. The family grew grapes which were

made into wine. The wine was known far and wide for its excellence.

Josef went fishing with Antonio on one short trip but usually stayed in the village playing with Giuseppe or going to

school. During that time he discovered that Antonio’s family was poor and sometimes didn’t have enough food for

themselves. He mentioned this to Antonio and was told not to worry, everything would be okay. However, when first

Giuseppe and then Giuseppe’s father, Pietro, asked Josef to come live with them he gladly accepted

Moving out of Antonio’s house was a tearful occasion. Josef had come to accept the family as his own. He knew,

though, that his presence took food away from others. That would not be the case at Giuseppe’s. On February 4^th he moved

in with his new family. It was a year to the day since his real family had been killed.

Josef was happy living with Giuseppe’s family. They accepted him into their home as one of their own. There was no

shortage of food; if anything, they all ate too well. All of them were big eaters and showed it; not one was as slender as

Josef.

Giuseppe’s younger sister, Lucia, often accompanied them when they were playing their children’s games. She was a

tomboyish 7 year old who had the light complexion and light brown hair of her mother. Guiseppe was darker and had hair

even darker than Josef’s.

They often played hide and seek. At times the game was played in the village itself, at other times in the many rowed

vineyard. Josef soon became familiar with all the twists and turns of the village and its many hiding places. Even so, when

he was “it” he seldom could find where Giuseppe was hiding but almost always found Lucia.

One rainy day the three of them were in the attic of the house laughing and giggling at some of the old fashioned odds

and ends stored there. In one corner Josef noticed a violin case. When he opened it a beautiful violin was inside. He asked

Giuseppe about it.

“I think it was my grandfather’s, we can ask Papa.”

That evening, as they were eating, Josef asked Pietro about the violin.

“That is a very valuable instrument,” he replied. “My grandfather made it many years ago. He passed it on to my father,

who passed it on to me. Both of them were good musicians and played well, a talent which I don’t possess. Why are you

asking about the violin?”

Josef answered, ”My papa and mama both played and my two brothers were learning.”

“What about you, didn’t you also want to play?” Pietro asked.

“I was taking piano lessons. I didn’t tell Mama and Papa but I also wanted to play the violin.”

“I think something can be done about that,” Pietro replied. “Signora Carpetta, an old lady who lives in the village with her

son, taught violin for many years in Trieste. When her husband died she moved here to be with her son. We can talk to her

tomorrow and see if she will give you lessons. She may even have a violin you can practice with. After you have had some

lessons we will see about using Grandpapa’s violin.”

Josef was so delighted he leaned over and hugged Pietro. “Thank you Signor Pietro, I would like that.”

“Please Josef, not Signor Pietro, just Pietro will do.”

“May I call you Papa Pietro?”

“I would like that.”

Josef then turned to Giuseppe’s mother and said, “And I shall call you Mamma Francesca.” At this Francesca beamed

and hugged Josef.

Signora Carpetta, as Pietro had said, was an old lady. She walked with difficulty, with the help of a cane. He hands

were gnarled and misshapen from arthritis. She was also losing her eyesight and hearing. In spite of all this she agreed to

give Josef violin lessons but only for a half hour each day; any longer than that would be too much for her. She had an old

violin Josef could practice with, if he promised to take good care of it. She refused to accept any payment for the lessons

but insisted that if the violin was mistreated it would have to be paid for. Pietro agreed to this.

Signora Carpetta was amazed at how quickly Josef learned. He had learned the basic skills of reading music when he

was taking piano lessons; he had also watched his parents and his brothers as they played the violin. From these

experiences he was quickly able to master the finger placement and bow work a violin required.

Within a few weeks he could play a simple children’s piece with little coaching. Less than two months after he began his

lessons he graduated to a more advanced level and was given several difficult sonatas to practice. When Papa Pietro

heard him practicing he went to the attic to get his grandfather’s violin.

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