Umberto was promptly wrapped up, put on a lorry,
wheeled to the place, and hoisted into position. The date of the
unveiling was fixed. The mayor I am told, had already composed his
speech, and was getting it by heart. Around the pedestal the fishermen
sat pottering. It was not observed that they received any visits from
the priests.
But priests are subtle; and it is a fact that three days before the
date of the unveiling the fishermen went, all in their black Sunday
clothes, and claimed audience of the mayor. He laid aside the MS. of
his speech, and received them affably. Old Agostino, their spokesman,
he whose face is so marvellously wrinkled, lifted his quavering voice.
He told the mayor, with great respect, that the rights of the
fishermen had been violated. That piece of ground had for hundreds of
years belonged to them. They had not been consulted about that statue.
They did not want it there. It was in the way, and must (said
Agostino) be removed. At first the mayor was inclined to treat the
deputation with a light good humour, and to resume the study of his
MS. But Agostino had a MS. of his own. This was a copy of a charter
whereby, before mayors and councillors were, the right to that piece
of land had been granted in perpetuity to the fisherfolk of the
district.
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