While I was on holiday in Malta with some friends a few years ago, we had booked a boat trip to the neighboring islands of Gozo and Comino. The package included all food and drinks for the day, including breakfast, so we woke up early and went to the port under a sun bright morning and a clear blue sky. The boat is waiting for us on the dock in Sliema was average and quite old but it seemed to be well maintained and therefore floated it was good enough for us. We boarded with about 50 or 60 other people.
While my companions went in search of beer, I stood at the back of the boat, leaning on the railing and looking curiously at the types of rustic Mediterranean Sailors prepare for our departure. The boat was moored to the outside as a car against a wall, so that the engines were roaring in the life of a blue diesel smoke cloud filled the air before me, obscuring my view of the action . As the air cleared, I saw a guy on the ground hurriedly cast off the mooring rope to the right and a young member of burly crew quickly pulled on board, but before the second rope can be thrown out of the captain SHOT engines and gave it full speed ahead. The crew ran through the boat behind me and tried desperately to untie the rope from the terminal on the bridge as he stretched like a rubber band gradually get thinner and thinner. At the same time, he cried on his shoulder Maltese obviously trying to tell the captain to cut the engines. He could not hear. The earth guy tried in vain to push the rope on the bollard on the dock, but the extreme tension made it impossible.
I was considering offering some sort of assistance when the unthinkable happened; the rope snapped about five feet from the boat and whipped violently in either direction. The short end of the rope is pulled through the railing of the boat and knocked the crew member squarely between the legs. Unfortunately, he always looked backwards and roared toward the wheelhouse so he has no chance to take evasive action. The strength of the violent impact ended his tirade over a long vowel, and the sudden and simultaneous acceleration of the boat did stumble forward and hit his head hard on the ramp with a clang. He fell on the deck clutching his groin with one hand and his head with the other. He slowly pulled his knees up to his chest as he whispered a Catholic prayer, his face all white except for a trickle of blood from a wound above his right eyebrow. The captain set sail, oblivious to the chaos in the rear, while the passengers gathered to offer assistance to the fallen crew.
The captain eventually got word of what had happened and ventured to the back of the boat to see for himself. At that time, the young crew member was sitting against the railing nursing his genitals with both hands, while a passenger friendly wiped his head wound with a cloth. male passengers empathetic with legs crossed and pained expressions on their faces watching. The bearded captain stood before the young man said something in Maltese then burst into laughter. The young man climbed slowly to his feet and dragged painfully towards the hysterical captain. He straightened standing before him, looking for all the world like he was about to salute, then, without a word, he quickly a whim in the face. The nose of the captain broke with creaking knees buckled and instantly. The young man managed to get a couple of good fast kicks as captain sprawled on the deck before the passengers intervened to prevent further bloodshed.
Surprisingly the rest of the crew decided to continue the cruise as if nothing had happened and we actually get to see Gozo and Comino that day. As we had lunch on board, we had to speak to a Maltese passenger on the events of the morning and we asked him what the captain had said to provoke such a violent reaction and end his career member of crew. Loosely translated, here's what the captain said: "Do not worry about it - just like you homosexual was never going to give me grandchildren anyway."