Episode 27: Cagliari
Just like the young women of 1925, we make a fine entrance into the port of Sardinia's capital, running before the wind. With a few differences: we are being followed by a large azure-blue Grimaldi container ship, and we have an engine standing by to rescue us should our harbour manoeuvres go wrong.
In the vast port of Cagliari there are no longer any graceful fishing tartanes or steamers bound for Tunisia as there once were, but an armada of luxury yachts, big ferries for Sicily and, above all, an immense cruise liner, the Costa Toscana, in from Spain. It looks out of all proportion. It is as long and as broad as a whole district of this city, which has kept its narrow streets and colourful façades.
We first pay a visit to the Basilica of Our Lady of Bonaria, known in English as Our Lady of Fair Winds, patron saint of seamen and seawomen alike, where we admire some fine ex-votos. Then we climb the steps four at a time, just as they did, up to the old town before sunset. Below the Terrazza Umberto I we stop at the Antico Caffè, founded in 1855. Our inspirations must surely have walked past this celebrated address, where we dine wonderfully well on the recommendation of our friend Luc.
Having rushed through a few errands and filled their 150-litre water tank, the young women were leaving Cagliari that very evening at ten o'clock, likewise after a good dinner washed down with Chianti. A sailor sent by the harbour master's office helped them free their anchor, caught under a mooring chain. Rowing the dinghy, Ella gallantly towed Bonita out. With an overall length of 16.70 m, a hull length of 11.10 m and a tonnage of 14 tons burthen, Bonita must have been seriously heavy. To the sound of the gramophone set out on the coachroof, they pressed on without fear into the black immensity, a half-moon for a lantern. So began their crossing to Sicily, in the course of which a gale would take them by surprise.
We have to bide our time. That crossing to Sicily is our next goal, but in… 2027. Family and professional commitments allow us barely more than two weeks of freedom a year. So the following day we set off back towards our boat's home port, on the island of San Pietro.
In her book Quand j'étais matelot (When I Was a Deckhand), Pa'Tchoum, one of the five crew members, wrote in 1925: "The streets of this great city and the dusty avenues where the trams grind along sadden me violently, and I think of our floating home as a refuge." Like them, we leave the lights of the big city behind without regret, and let our joy burst out at finding the open sea again.
To the sound of a boom box rather than a gramophone, we take up a few verses together in tribute to Catherine Ringer and France Gall: "Quand tu l'as, tu l'as, Ella, elle l'a, Ella l'a!"
Signed, the Bonitas
Cagliari, Sardinia, Italy, 15 September 2026
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