The Iron Quest 5 by João Coelho



Taming Giants II

It all starts down below, on the seabed, littered with the wrecks of ships slowly succumbing to rust. The water, constantly clouded by sediment stirred up by strong currents, hides pointed irons and sharp metal plates covered in rust and algae. It's a dark world where man's presence is unwelcome. It's a vast graveyard that claims the peace and silence of the sleeping giants.

But there are some brave men in this bay who are determined to desecrate this graveyard on a daily basis and defy the dangers within. The countless injuries they have suffered here have taught them where they cannot defy the sleeping giants. Having dived and scoured the bottom of this beach with their bare hands countless times, they know where there are still carcasses from which they can pull plates and pieces of iron with the strength of their arms. Their eyes have become accustomed to the darkness and poor visibility of the water, and their lungs have been trained to withstand long periods underwater, almost always more than a minute.

They move quietly in the water, as if not wishing to wake the giants from their eternal slumber.  Fearlessly, they enter the interior of the carcasses through narrow passages where they can barely fit, hoping to find the most precious trophies: pieces of copper or bronze, much more valuable than iron. Small listed fish patrol the seabed, following their movements closely, as if they were the guardians of this silent realm. They're the only life in this dark and desolate graveyard, where the flowers have been replaced by rust spots and carpets of algae.

It's the tides that determine when they go into the water, since it's practically impossible to work when the tide is high. From a young age, they learn that the tidal cycles advance by one hour each day and it is this cycle that determines their lives, even if they have to go to the beach to work when the sun has not yet risen. The rainy season can also force them to stop working, as the water becomes even darker and full of debris brought in by currents from the mouth of a nearby river.

If one of them spots a large piece, they quickly gather in a group to dive simultaneously, pushing the piece in different directions until it separates from the hull. The movement lifts more sediment from the bottom, making the water even murkier and resembling a dense, impenetrable wall. It's almost impossible to avoid the sharp edges. Cuts to hands, arms and legs are inevitable and some remain open for months. It's a titanic effort that can take several hours and requires countless dives, during which everyone has to work in perfect synchronisation. When they come to the surface, they regularly assess the position of the piece and the progress made. Although everyone can give their opinion, it is the more experienced divers who decide what to do and how to do it on the next dives.

But that's only the beginning. Once they have removed the piece from the hull, they have to lift it to the surface and carry it to the beach on fragile rafts made from pieces of polystyrene wrapped in a fishing net. If the pieces are very large and heavy, they have to drag them along the seabed, diving countless times to lift them and then dropping them again and again until they reach the beach. It's a race against time to beat the rising tide. As well as creating strong waves and currents, the rising water can also block the passage of the motorbikes that carry the pieces along the beach to another part of the bay, about 4km away, where they are weighed and sold.

After several hours of struggle, and having overcome the hundreds of metres that separated them from the beach, they still had to lift the heavy piece by force of arms to put it on the bike. The tide had already begun to flood the beach and the bike was stuck in the wet sand under the weight of the piece. They're exhausted, but it takes one last effort to push the heavy load. Once the bike was free, they were able to rest for a few minutes. Some throw themselves onto the sand as if they were diving again, but this time into a deep sleep. Others stare at the horizon, oblivious to what's going on around them, as if that's where they'll find the remaining strength to get home. Before hopping on the bike, there's still time to smoke a cigarette, as if it were the most comforting thing they could have at the moment.

At the end of the day, after the scale has pronounced its verdict, they divide the paltry reward they have received for taming yet another giant on this beach in a relentless battle.

 


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Peripheral Places – Short Stories by Catia Montagna