Elizabeth Street - Laurie Fabiano [89]
The sky became pitch black from the momentarily extinguished flames so they couldn’t see the first wave to crash into them. The two boats were thrown at one another. Antonio emerged from the wave coughing, and in a second his father was shoving his own oar into Antonio’s hands. Through the slaps of water on his face, Antonio could see glimpses of the sinew of his father’s arms dragging his sisters-in-law and their babies into the boat. His brothers’ boat was nearly severed in half and was starting to pull down on their boat. Having gotten their wives onboard, his brothers were using the rope to pull their way through the foam. As soon as Orazio and Raffaele reached the boat, Giuseppe cut the rope loose, and what was left of his sons’ boat disappeared beneath the foam.
Raffaele and Orazio each grabbed an oar and shared the seat with Antonio and Salvatore. Giuseppe moved to the prow shouting instructions to his oarsmen.
“Don’t fight, ride them!” rasped Giuseppe. “Here comes one to the left. Use your oars to stay in the boat. Steady!” The boat rode the crest of the wave and was delivered hundreds of feet northwest. Giuseppe said a prayer of thanks because his goal was to get as far north of the strait as possible. His relief was short-lived. They were hit by another wave, knocking them back and nearly overturning the boat. Giuseppe continued to shout instructions to his sons, whose arms strained against the oars.
When they emerged from under the last wave, Giuseppe tried to get a sense of where they were. They had stayed north, but they were farther west, off the coast of Sicily. South of him in the strait, he could see the fires of Messina and for the first time the ruin of Reggio. It was like two bonfires had been set facing each other on the coasts. A cloud of smoke hung over Scilla, but he saw only isolated flames.
Two waves approached from both the east and west, and he shouted to the boys to row toward the end of the western wave in hopes of skirting up its back to avoid being caught in the collision. Just in time they flew down the back of the wave and only caught the backlash of the force of the two waves smacking together.
Antonio wasn’t sure if he was crying or not. Seeing his mother and sisters drenched and screaming at his feet frightened him more than the waves. They clung to the bottom of the boat, sputtering for air between waves. Antonio prayed to his patron saint. He thought of his grandparents, cousins, and many aunts and uncles onshore in Scilla. Were they alive? The thought of reaching them gave him renewed strength, and he listened to his father’s instructions even more intently.
His sisters-in-law kept the two infants breathing by clasping their heads between their breasts so that they could find air when waves swept over the boat. After the collision of the last two waves, Fortunata saw her infant grandson pushed up against the side of the boat, crying next to his unconscious mother. Fortunata wasn’t sure whether Raffaele’s wife had been knocked out or had swallowed too much water, but she pumped her chest and blew into her mouth, not calling to the others for fear Raffaele would release his oar. Pumping and breathing, she prayed for the break in the waves to continue. Torturously long minutes later, her daughter-in-law began coughing up water, and Fortunata was able to raise her to a sitting position. She propped her against the side of the boat and put her grandson in her daughter’s arms.
After the tidal wave hit Messina, it crossed over the strait, slapping back at Reggio. The waves continued back and forth across the strait, each time lessening in height and intensity.
They were now able to ride the waves without being completely engulfed by each swell. For the first time, Giuseppe could think instead of simply react. Where was his family better off—on land or sea? What if there was another tremor? He looked at the others instead of the sea for the first time and saw that his young daughter-in-law was nearly