Our trip out of the Island of Melioria to the Italian peninsula took much longer than we expected. Only now that the journey is behind us can I sit down and continue my log.

When last I wrote I told how Rico and I had waited in the dark before sunrise. Finally, after what seemed like a very long time we could hear footsteps, Rico and I, from our hiding place among the barrels and crates of the uncollected cargo at Port Melioria. We both held our breaths. The morning fog was so thick that we could barely see a figure approaching, but we could hear that his stride was vigorous and determined.

We could see a figure in the fog

Do you think that the captain of the Aurelia is coming? Rico whispered. I did not answer, but I could see that Rico was listening as intently as I. Then he shook his head. No. That is no sea captain. Only one person walks in that half-march, half-scuff way.

With that, Rico stood clear of the crates, and I joined him. He waved his arms, and the marching scuffer saw us, and moved our way.

Ciao, Prospero! Rico said softly.

Prospero, the apprentice baker, scuffed his feet on the dock

Ciao, Rico. Ciao Fiorino, our friend Prospero Pastorelli greeted us in reply. Good to see you! All of Melioria is still asleep. If we leave now, no one will even know we are gone.

Prospero was not smiling. He looked from side to side and over his shoulder, as if to make sure we were still alone.

The sun will break soon, he said with some urgency. We must hurry. There is a boat here. Quick, well row out of port. There is a ship ready to leave for Naples.

We did not need a second invitation. We picked up our packs and followed Prospero on to the dock. Sure enough, there was a small fishing boat moored there.

The three of us got in the fishing boat

With a some effort, Rico and I rowed the boat while Prospero controlled the rudder. I could paddle a gondola in the canals of Venezia with little problem, but rowing this little boat out of the port seemed to be more difficult. Little by little we managed to control the boat against the rippling waters of the seaport, and finally brought it around the port, along the coast and into a small bay.

Rico and I rowed, following Prosperos directions

Maybe it was because of the heavy fog, or maybe because I had never explored this side of Melioria, but I could not recognize this place. There were steep cliffs at waters edge and no beach whatsoever. I glanced over at Rico, who seemed to bite his lip as he looked around at the surroundings. Prospero, he asked, where are you taking us?

They call this La Cala del Contrabbaniere*, Prospero answered in a whisper, and if you look carefully, youll see that there is our ship.

Rico spots the ship

Is that a ship of smugglers? Whose ship is it, Prospero? I asked. No doubt my voice betrayed my alarm.

Our friend Prospero shushed me: Dont talk loud! When we get to the ship, the men will lower a rope and well climb on board. Be very polite, and let me do the talking.

The three apprentices board the ship in Smugglers Cove

Before I could take ten breaths, we were at the ship and climbing the rope ladder. As soon as we were on deck, two sailors spoke with Prospero, but Rico and I stepped back, out of earshot. The sailors weighed anchor and we were moving moving out of the cove and out to sea toward the rising sun.

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* La Cala del Contrabbaniere can be translated Smugglers Cove