Sailing To Sicily
The Tycho Braun departed from Marseilles, Friday 5 October 1891 on the morning flood tide outbound for Palermo to pickup my consignment of wine.
Captain Crocker’s agent in Marseilles had also arranged to load a quantity of Olive Oil also in barrels, it looked a four day stay in Sicily seemed assured.
Our outbound cargo included a cargo of agricultural tools consigned to friend Rosenberg, Captain Crocker was assured a profitable voyage.
It was a short cab ride to the banking establishment of The House of Rosenberg, his domicile was marked by the three brass balls of the House of Medici, The Old World symbol of banking.
Banker Rosenberg was well known in Palermo and locating his house was not a problem in spite of my lack of the local dialect.
My ring was acknowledged by Rosenburgs’ major doom clad in English butler style.
“Whom may I say is calling?” Major-Domo inquired in French.
“Ansar Pasha” I replied in English adding: “I believe I’m expected.”
The butler’s countenance softened slightly, he invited me in.
A short passage lead to a courtyard, where other servants and retainers bustled about, and my host stepped forward making the Muslim gesture, heart, mouth, forehead “Shalom” he intoned.
The courtyard was not large but bathed in October sunshine.
“Welcome to my home, as you can see, I live above the shop, as the English might say.”
“My family private apartments are to our left, warehouse and offices are straight ahead and the servants quarters and kitchen are to the right, all very compact and cozy.”
“I occupy the family block with my wife, three sons, and their families.”
“I notice no stable for the animals,” I observed.
“Very observant, I have a cousin who maintains the herd for rental purposes & I deal exclusively with him, he has other clients as well and it saves me by not having to employ; drivers, a farrier and veterinary services.”
“Would you care to inspect our little facility and I will introduce you to my sons who manage each ‘department’ as it were.”
Arnold, number One son was the bookkeeper and “bank” manager. Justin was warehouse manager. We inspected the wine stock which was stocked in Demi-barrels.
“You see,” my host continued, “I deal mainly with small producers, and it’s handy for barter to keep the units small, it also eases transport, they are more compact.”
“Yes, I quite agree very sound indeed.”
“Of course, on occasion I deal with some of The Don’s ‘estate” products which maybe handled as a ‘vintage’ product, but our major export is ‘vin ordinare’ as The French might express it.”
When we reached the servant block, I was stunned to learn Rosenberg’s third son was was “adopted” Justin his valet.
Arnold brought him home one day, he had found him in the street starving. We gave him a place at the family table. He has remained with us. His family takes their meals at the family table and manages my other retainers.
His apartment is in the family block, but has his “office” in the servant’s quarters. “Let us adjourn to the atrium for conversation and coffee.”
Rosenberg led the way, and we found two chairs next to the fountain in the sun, along with a small round table. A young man appeared carrying one of those popular Turkish swinging trays, with two Demi-cups of fresh brewed coffee.
“Thank you Saul,” said my host, “that’s one of my grandson’s, many of the staff are my relations, it’s something I have copied from The Mafia Don’s it’s a sound system.”
“We can sit here in the sun and conduct our affairs in private,” Rosenberg continued, “surely we have met before, not too long ago.”
To Be Continued
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