The "What Is That?" Factor
I’m standing on the dock in Naples, surrounded by a sea of floating wedding cakes. You know the type—fiberglass towers, aggressively white, looking like they were molded from a single piece of plastic just last Tuesday. They are sleek, they are fast, and frankly, they are a dime a dozen in the Mediterranean.
She’s sitting at the end of the quay, and she has presence. Not the "look at me" flash of a modern Sunseeker, but the quiet, heavy-set authority of a bouncer in a tuxedo. She’s high-bowed, with a rounded stern that looks like it could endure a hurricane without spilling a drop of your martini. Her lines are odd—beautiful, but purposeful. She doesn’t look like she was built for leisure; she looks like she was built for war, or work, or something far more serious than tanning.
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| The steel paradox: Why this 1964 survivor makes modern superyachts feel cheap |
And that’s because she was.
This is the Vervece. And if you’re looking for the typical plastic fantastic yacht charter, stop reading now. Go rent a Ferretti. But if you want to know what happens when you take a 1960s industrial workhorse, strip it down to its steel bones, and inject it with Italian high fashion, you need to come on board with me. Because the Vervece isn’t just a boat; she’s the coolest story in the harbor, and frankly, she ruins the experience of modern yachts for anyone who steps aboard.
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| The steel paradox: Why this 1964 survivor makes modern superyachts feel cheap |
Part 1: The Blue Collar Aristocrat
To understand the Vervece, you have to rewind the tape. Way back. We are talking about 1964. The Beatles were invading America, the Cold War was chilly, and in Viareggio, Italy, the legendary Benetti M&B shipyard was welding together a beast.
But they weren’t building a pleasure yacht for a playboy. They were building a tugboat.
Named for a small rock islet off the coast of Massa Lubrense, the Vervece spent decades as a member of the Rimorchiatori Napoletani fleet. For nearly forty years, this vessel didn’t carry models and magnums of Dom Pérignon. She carried tow lines, salvage gear, and sweaty men who smoked unfiltered cigarettes. She pushed massive tankers around, fought fires, and braved seas that would snap a modern fiberglass yacht in half.
This history matters. It matters because when you step aboard a modern yacht, you are often standing on a structure designed to be as light and fast as possible. When you step onto the Vervece, you are standing on a hull built to pull 10,000-ton ships. You feel it immediately. There is no wobble. There is no shudder. She feels like a piece of the continent that just happened to detach and float.
In 2006, her working life ended. She could have gone to the scrap yard, cut up for razor blades. Instead, a visionary owner saw those classic canoe stern lines and that high, proud bow and thought, “I can work with this.”
What followed was one of the most ambitious conversions in yachting history. The Palumbo Shipyard in Naples—famous for working on massive commercial ships and superyachts alike—took her in. They didn’t just paint her. They gutted her. They replaced 80% of her steel. They kept the soul of the tug but rebuilt the body for the billionaire class.
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| The steel paradox: Why this 1964 survivor makes modern superyachts feel cheap |
Part 2: The Walkthrough – First Impressions
Let’s walk aboard. I want you to visualize this with me.
Usually, on a 30-meter (98-foot) yacht, the passerelle (the boarding plank) feels a bit like a diving board. On the Vervece, you walk onto the aft deck and the first thing that hits you is the space.
Because she was built as a commercial vessel, she doesn’t have the pinched, aerodynamic teardrop shape of a sport yacht. She carries her beam (width) almost all the way to the back. The aft deck is absolutely massive. You could host a dance party for thirty people back here and nobody would bump elbows.
The floor is thick, solid teak. Not the thin veneer you see on production boats, but thick, chunky planks that feel warm under your bare feet. There’s a massive dining table back here, shaded by the overhang of the deck above. This is where you’re going to have breakfast while anchored off Capri, watching the sun hit the Faraglioni rocks.
But look at the details. The cleats (where you tie the ropes) are huge. They are original—or at least, they are sized for the job she used to do. They are polished to a mirror finish now, but they are a subtle nod to her past. "I used to hold oil tankers," they seem to say. "Your tender is no problem."
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| The steel paradox: Why this 1964 survivor makes modern superyachts feel cheap |
Part 3: Stepping Inside – The Beach House
I slide open the glass doors to the main salon, expecting to see dark mahogany, brass clocks, and maybe a portrait of a sea captain. You know, the "Old Money" aesthetic.
I am completely wrong.
The interior of the Vervece is shocking in the best way possible. It is modern beach house chic. It’s bright, airy, and impossibly white. The designers used white lacquered ash wood for the cabinetry and walls, paired with pops of color in the cushions and art.
It feels less like a ship and more like a high-end loft in Malibu or a villa in St. Tropez. The contrast is intoxicating. You look out the window and see the heavy steel bulwarks of a tugboat, but you turn around and you’re in a contemporary design magazine.
The main salon is split. First, you have the lounge area—big, squashy white sofas that practically beg you to collapse into them after a swim. The air conditioning is whisper-quiet (a modern luxury, thankfully). Further forward is the formal dining area. The table is a piece of art itself, often set with driftwood accents and crisp linen, keeping that "organic luxury" vibe front and center.
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| The steel paradox: Why this 1964 survivor makes modern superyachts feel cheap |
But here is the secret sauce of the tugboat hull: The Windows.
Commercial boats have big, vertical windows to let the crew see what they are doing. On the Vervece, these have been enlarged and refined, flooding the space with natural light. There’s no "cave effect" that you sometimes get on older classic yachts.
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| The steel paradox: Why this 1964 survivor makes modern superyachts feel cheap |
Part 4: The Owner’s Secret (The Master Cabin)
Now, follow me forward on the main deck.
On 99% of yachts in this size range (30 meters), the Master Cabin is downstairs. You have to descend into the belly of the beast to go to sleep. It’s fine, but it can be a bit dark, and you can hear the water slapping against the hull right by your ear.
The Vervece breaks the rules.
Because of her massive internal volume (almost 200 Gross Tons, which is huge for a 30m boat), the designers were able to put the Master Suite right here on the Main Deck.
I walk in, and it’s a sanctuary. It’s full-beam, meaning it stretches the entire width of the boat. There is a King-size bed floating in the middle of the room. But the best part? You can wake up, press a button to open the blinds, and look straight out at the horizon without getting out of bed. You are at deck level. You aren’t hiding in the basement; you are commanding the ship.
The bathroom (heads, in nautical speak) is en-suite, obviously, finished in that same clean, white aesthetic with high-end fixtures. There’s a dressing table, a sofa, and enough wardrobe space for a week’s worth of linen suits and evening gowns.
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| The steel paradox: Why this 1964 survivor makes modern superyachts feel cheap |
Part 5: Below Decks – The VIP and Guests
We head down the stairs to see where the rest of your entourage will sleep.
The layout is surprisingly flexible. There’s a VIP Suite down here that rivals the Master. It’s also full-beam (thanks to that chunky tugboat shape) and features a Queen bed. But it has a quirk—a cool one. It has an anteroom with a little studio/office space and a sofa. If you’re on a working holiday (God forbid), this is your bunker. It even has an extra shower.
Then there are two Twin cabins. These aren’t the cramping "broom closets" you find on some boats. They are spacious, with their own en-suites. And because the Vervece is so wide, the beds are proper sizes.
The Sleep Factor:
I have to mention this. I asked the captain about sleeping on board. He smiled and said, "She’s steel. She sits deep."
Modern composite boats bob like corks. If a wave hits them, they bounce. The Vervece has a draft of over 3 meters. She sits in the water, not on it. At anchor, she is rock steady. If you are prone to seasickness, this is the boat you want to charter. She doesn’t roll; she just gently breathes with the ocean.
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| The steel paradox: Why this 1964 survivor makes modern superyachts feel cheap |
Part 6: The Upper Deck – The Party Platform
Let’s head up. Past the main deck, up the exterior stairs to the Upper Deck (or Bridge Deck).
This is my favorite spot on the boat.
First, you have the Skylounge. This is a second, smaller living room behind the wheelhouse. It’s the "chill-out zone." If the kids are watching a movie in the main salon downstairs, the adults can be up here with a whiskey, playing cards or reading. It opens directly onto the upper aft deck.
This upper deck space is dedicated to al fresco dining. There’s another table here, and this is where you want to have dinner. Why? Because you are elevated. You are looking down on the marina. You have privacy from the passerby on the dock, but you have a 360-degree view of the bay.
And then, the Wheelhouse.
I poke my head in. It’s a blend of the Space Age and 1964. The dashboard is lined with modern touchscreens—Raymarine, GPS, radar, the works. But the wheel? It’s still a ship’s wheel. The windows are those reverse-raked commercial windows that stop glare. It feels professional. It feels safe.
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| The steel paradox: Why this 1964 survivor makes modern superyachts feel cheap |
Part 7: The Engine Room – The Heart of the Beast
I’m a bit of a nerd for mechanics, so I asked to see the engine room.
You might expect a dirty, oily pit given her history. Instead, it’s a laboratory. It is spotless. White floors, gleaming chrome.
The original ancient engines are long gone. In their place are twin Cummins 1000hp diesels.
Now, 2000 horsepower sounds like a lot, but in the yachting world, that’s modest. And that’s the point. The Vervece isn’t a speedboat. She cruises at a dignified 10 to 11 knots. She consumes fuel like a lady, not a frat boy.
With a range of 3,000 nautical miles, she could technically cross the Atlantic. You won't do that on your week-long charter, but knowing she can adds a layer of confidence. You aren’t in a fragile toy; you are in a small ship.
The refit also included zero-speed stabilizers. These are giant fins underwater that paddle back and forth to stop the boat from rolling when it’s stopped. Combined with her heavy hull, she is incredibly stable.
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| The steel paradox: Why this 1964 survivor makes modern superyachts feel cheap |
Part 8: The Charter Experience – Why Her?
So, why would you spend roughly €40,000 to €50,000 per week (plus expenses) to charter the Vervece?
I sat down on the aft deck, imagining the itinerary. You start in Naples. The Vervece is a local legend here; the crew are mostly Neapolitans. They know every hidden cove in Ischia, every restaurant in Positano where the chef will come out to hug you.
The Crew Factor:
The Vervece runs with a crew of 6. That’s a high ratio for 8 to 10 guests. It means you never pour your own drink unless you want to. The reviews for this boat consistently mention the food. Because the galley (kitchen) is large and commercial-grade, the chef isn’t fighting with a microwave. They are producing five-star Italian cuisine—fresh mozzarella bought that morning in Sorrento, seafood caught off the side of the boat.
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| The steel paradox: Why this 1964 survivor makes modern superyachts feel cheap |
The Toys:
Despite her classic looks, she’s loaded with modern fun. The garage and deck store two Lomac tenders (fast rubber boats) for getting to the beach. There are SeaDoos, paddleboards, wakeboards, and the inevitable giant inflatable donut. The crew will launch all this stuff the moment the anchor drops.
The Vibe:
I realized something while sitting there. When you pull into St. Tropez or Portofino on a plastic superyacht, you are competing. You are trying to show you have the newest model.
When you pull in on the Vervece, you have opted out of the competition. You have won by default. You are the guy driving the vintage Land Rover Defender in a sea of leased Porsches. It signals confidence. It says, “I don’t need to go 40 knots. I’m already here.”
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| The steel paradox: Why this 1964 survivor makes modern superyachts feel cheap |
Part 9: The Verdict
The Benetti M&B Vervece is a paradox. She is old, yet brand new. She is industrial, yet luxurious. She is tough, yet soft.
In a market obsessed with "bigger, faster, shinier," the Vervece offers something rarer: Character.
She has ghosts—good ones. You can feel the history in the steel plating. You can imagine the storms she has weathered in her past life, which makes the calmness of your gin and tonic on the sundeck feel even sweeter.
Pros:
Volume: She feels much bigger than 30 meters.
Stability: A steel hull + stabilizers = no seasickness.
Style: Unbeatable "explorer/classic" aesthetics.
Main Deck Master: A rare luxury in this class.
Range/Economy: She sips fuel compared to planning hull yachts.
Cons:
Speed: If you need to zip from Monaco to St. Tropez in an hour, she’s not for you. She cruises at 10 knots. Sit back and enjoy the view.
Styling: If you hate the "tugboat chic" look and want sleek curves, you’ll hate her. (But you’d be wrong).
The steel paradox: Why this 1964 survivor makes modern superyachts feel cheap
Final Thoughts
As I walked back down the passerelle, leaving the Vervece behind, I looked back at her stern. A crew member was polishing the nameplate.
There are thousands of yachts available for charter in the Mediterranean this summer. Most of them will blend together in your memory into a blur of white fiberglass and beige carpet.
But if you book the Vervece, you’ll remember it. You’ll remember the sound of the heavy steel latch on the door. You’ll remember the feeling of invincibility as she plows through a chop that sends other boats running for the harbor. You’ll remember living inside a piece of Italian maritime history.
She used to work for a living. Now, her only job is to make sure you have the best week of your life. And like any good professional, she takes her job very seriously.
Vervece Specifications at a Glance:
Builder: Benetti M&B (1964)
Refit: Palumbo Shipyard (2013-2015)
Length: 30m (98.4 ft)
Beam: 7.74m (Massive!)
Guests: 8-10 in 4 cabins
Crew: 6
Hull: Steel
Cruising Speed: 10-12 knots
Charter Rate: Approx €38,000 - €49,000 per week (+ expenses)
Have you ever chartered a converted commercial vessel? Would you choose this over a modern superyacht? Let me know in the comments below.