"So that's Capri, over there, right?" Allan asked. He could make out the shape of the island in the distance, shrouded by light morning fog.
"Right."Jerry answered. "It looks like a woman's profile, you see? And that's where emperor Tiberius built his palace."
Tiberius. Allan couldn't remember much about Roman emperors,beside Augustus. Jerry must have had better history teachers, or had simply studied better those guidebooks they issued to G.Is. He soon abandoned all thoughts of Roman history, staring at the swirls of different shades of blue and grey on the surface of the sea, and as it often did, his mind filled with music, as it often did. If they found a café where to sit, he could start to jot it down, and maybe discuss it with Jerry. Capri Melody, or Morning in Capri, it might be called. There should be a trumpet solo for Jerry. Allan now remembered what a sight Jerry had been with his trumpet, all tuxedo and long limbs and conked hair. It was odd to see him in uniform now. Women looked at him, Allan had gotten used to the fact that women had no qualms looking at the black American soldiers."Haile Salassie" he had heard people whisper at Jerry. Emperor Tiberius, Emperor Salassie. Rome, Ethiopia.
"Hey, Jerry." Allan said. "I've got a new nickname for you. The Emperor. Emperor Jerry Smith. How's that, written in lights all over Broadway?"
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