"The prettiest thing in Trieste was the swimming school. It was moored
out at the entrance to the harbour. We used to reach it in a boat, and
get hold of Tonina, the old woman who provided us with the _camerino_,
or little stall to undress in, and who would grin from ear to ear at
our chaff and the thought of her _bakshish_. The women's costumes were
short trousers, with bodice or belt of blue serge or white alpaca trimmed
with red. We plunged into the great _vasca_ or basin, an acre of sea,
bottomless, but enclosed on all sides with a loaded net, to keep out the
sharks. There were twelve soldiers to teach beginners. They used to
begin with a pole and rope, like a fishing-rod and line, and at the end
of the rope was a broad belt, which went round the waist of the beginner,
and you heard the incessant, 'Eins, zwei, drei' of the drill. Next they
would lead the beginners round the edge of the basin with a rope, like
pet dogs. But we adepts in swimming plunged in head first from a sort
of trapeze, or from the roofs of the dressing-rooms, making a somersault
on the way. The swimmers did the prettiest tricks in the water. Young
married women met in the middle to shake hands and hold long
conversations. Scores of young girls used to romp about, ducking each
other under and climbing on each other's backs for support, and children
of three or four used to swim about like white-bait, in and out, among
us all.
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