The Lost Sailors Read Online Free PDF

didn’t think anything. You had the right to leave.”
    â€œAnd you have a duty to stay here, is that it?”
    The question was so direct that Abdul didn’t know what to reply. “No,” he stammered. “No.”
    â€œSo, forget about rights and duties. We’re here, and we’ll have to just get on with it. Maybe in a few days, we’ll be at each other’s throats.”
    â€œWhy should we be at each other’s throats?”
    â€œBecause we’re both dying to know why we’re here, sitting opposite each other eating spaghetti with a crap sauce and drinking cheap wine . . . and because . . .”
    He stood up, lit a cigarette, and puffed feverishly at it.
    â€œAnd because neither of us wants to talk about it. I think I’m going to bed. Shall we raise the ladder?”
    â€œWe’ve never raised it. Why are you asking that?”
    â€œBecause you’re the captain, Abdul, dammit!”
    They both laughed.
    â€œHow about finishing the whisky instead?” Abdul suggested.
    â€œSeeing there’s not much left, that’s a good idea. Grab the bottle. I’ll explain the map to you, if you like.”
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    â€œYou may not know this,” Diamantis began, “but in ancient times maps were called ‘the periods of the earth.’”
    â€œThat’s nice.”
    â€œIt’s fantastic, you mean. Because, you see, between this map and the ones we use today for navigation, the earth has really changed a lot. Ports have changed their names, and so have the seas that washed them. Some have disappeared completely. If their story isn’t written now, it never will be.”
    And Diamantis pointed at the map and recited the names of ports, names to set a man dreaming. Salona, Aquileia, and Adria on the Adriatic. Sybaris, Lilybaeum, Phokaia. The two Caesareas, on the coasts of Africa and Asia Minor. The two Ptolemais, one in Lybia, the other in Phoenicia. The Good Ports, near Lasia, south of Crete, mentioned by Luke in the Acts of the Apostles. Tarsus in Cilicia, known for the gates of Cleopatra. And Tarsis, famous for its ships, although no one knows its exact location. Dor, at the foot of Mount Carmel. Apollonia and Berenice, on either side of the Cyrenaic peninsula. Herakleia and Theodosia, in the Crimea, which can only be reached by land. Gorgippia and Germanoissa, near the narrows that lead to the Sea of Azov. Old Himera on the coast of Sicily. Cythera, on the southernmost of the Ionian islands. Cythera . . .
    Diamantis paused for breath. He downed the last drop of whisky and clicked his tongue.
    â€œA pity there’s so little of it!”
    â€œI agree to us buying another one tomorrow. The evenings are going to be long.”
    â€œTrue. But all the same, we haven’t taken a vow of fidelity!”
    â€œCarry on, instead of talking crap.”
    â€œBut I agree about the whisky. Leave it to me. I can get it wholesale.”
    The sea isn’t something you ever discover alone, Diamantis continued. You don’t see it only with your own eyes. His father had taught him that. You see it the way others have seen it, with the images and stories they have handed down to us in your head.
    â€œThat’s how I learned about the sea. On my father’s knees. And that’s how I learned about history and geography, too. And how literature started to mean something. I mean, the literature that teaches us there are seas in which we’ll never be able to swim, ports where we’ll never be able to fuck girls. And countries that will survive human stupidity.”
    â€œYou’re a real philosopher, Diamantis.”
    â€œI love the sea, that’s all. It makes you see the earth differently, and people too.”
    â€œThat’s what I mean. I bet you can quote poetry by heart.”
    â€œYou’re right. In fact, that’s how I seduced my wife.” He thought a moment, then began to recite:
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    Hail