(FORTUNE Magazine) – The majestic Moor of Venice is back in her slip in Ravenna, an ancient Adriatic port. But not for long. Raul Gardini, owner of the 79-foot racing sloop and captain of Italy's Ferruzzi Group, is as dauntless and restless as Shakespeare's Othello, namesake of the yacht. ''I don't like to stand still,'' says Gardini. ''I don't care if the forecast is bad. I want to leave port.'' Gardini enjoys making waves. The family-owned conglomerate he heads was founded in 1947 by his late father-in-law, Serafino Ferruzzi. Ravenna-based Ferruzzi Group, with estimated 1987 sales of $11 billion, trades more grain and produces more sugar and starch than any other company in Europe. But Gardini, 54, seems insatiable. Last year he seized on Montedison, Italy's $9- billion-a-year chemical and pharmaceutical conglomerate, and by March had accumulated a controlling 39% block of its shares. Last month he bought Central Soya Co. of Fort Wayne, Indiana, for $365 million. ''He's a real buccaneer,'' says James A. Harmon, chairman of Wertheim Schroder & Co., Montedison's investment banker in New York. The acquisitions bumped Ferruzzi Group up to second place among Italian businesses, after automaker Fiat. Gardini and the Ferruzzis are part of an elite cadre of hyper-rich clans that dominate Italy's economy. Best known among these unequals are the Agnellis of Fiat, who have steered their 40%-owned auto company into robotics, telecommunications, and civil engineering. Also on the move are the Benettons, whose more than 4,500 shirt and sweater stores from Atlanta to Zermatt rival McDonald's in ubiquity. The Benetton family, three brothers and a sister, drove a generation of salesclerks to distraction by insisting that clothes be folded as meticulously as origami paper; now they also peddle financial services, including mutual funds and insurance, through a subsidiary called InHolding. Ferruzzi, too, has sprawled beyond its original business, but its strategic vision remains elegantly focused. Montedison's management was puzzled, not to mention miffed, when the agricultural giant pounced. What on earth could chemicals and cereals have in common? Gardini, an ardent environmentalist, has the answer: He plans to use Ferruzzi starch, grain, and seeds as the biodegradable feedstocks for Montedison's paper, pharmaceuticals, and plastics. Among his pet projects is a $1-billion scheme to produce ethanol, a natural gasoline additive, from grain. Squarely built, silver-haired, and perennially tan, Gardini charts Ferruzzi's course from a place known as the mousetrap. That's what his wife and three children call the elegantly appointed office Gardini crawls into for up to 20 hours at a stretch. The five-room suite is packed with maritime memorabilia. More than 100 regatta trophies line the shelves, including the King's Cup, presented to Gardini in August by King Juan-Carlos of Spain as first prize for a week-long race in the Mediterranean. After smoking more than a pack of Winstons and spending a full day on the computer, telex, and telephone, Gardini retires to a 16th-century villa that connects with his office through a passageway hidden inside a closet. Located in the heart of Ravenna, the residence is surrounded by a high stone wall that contains a courtyard and garden. Gardini, a weekday workaholic, relaxes on weekends. If not sailing or duck hunting, he may hop in a black Mercedes sedan with his family and head for Venice, 90 miles up the coast. There he owns Ca' Dario, one of the most splendid and renowned palaces on the Grand Canal. ''I didn't buy it because it was a status symbol, but because I liked it. And I enjoy fulfilling my wishes,'' he says in the lilting Ravenna dialect. This suave and confident billionaire, a farmer's son, dropped out of the University of Bologna in 1955 to work for Serafino Ferruzzi in his new cement business. Later that year he married the boss's daughter, Idina. Then, as Ferruzzi's strategic director, Gardini helped transform a company that had begun as a barley importer after World War II into a far-flung agricultural empire. Today Ferruzzi produces food on 2.5 million acres in Europe, the U.S., and South America. When Serafino Ferruzzi died in a plane crash in 1979, there was no question among his three daughters and one son that Gardini would take charge. Though he delegates more than his father-in-law once did, he rules with the same iron fist. Says he: ''I want to be the only captain of the ship.'' The construction of the Ferruzzi fortune followed the blueprint for Italian billionaires: It has been exclusively a family affair, and a relatively recent one at that. Except for the Agnellis, all the Italians on FORTUNE's list made their money after World War II. ''Before the war Gardini's wealth would have been impossible,'' says Franco Modigliani, MIT's Nobel Prize-winning economist. ''If you were rich, you stayed rich. If you were poor and wanted to start a business, you needed permission from the government. Most poor people stayed poor.'' ; Silvio Berlusconi, king of the country's cable TV industry, amassed his billion in just the past decade. Likewise Salvatore Ligresti, a Milanese real estate tycoon. And the Benettons were nobodies until 1980, when their logo started turning up on almost everybody everywhere. Gianni Agnelli, whose grandfather began selling cars at the turn of the century, mingles easily with Italy's considerably less wealthy old-money set. Some of his fashion ideas are decidedly quirky: He wears his antique Cartier wristwatch over his sleeve and leaves the collar buttons of his Brooks Brothers oxford shirts undone. Agnelli was in a serious car crash 35 years ago and still walks with a limp, but he is a firm-footed powerhouse in a country where governments can't keep their balance. Agnelli personifies the understated manner of monied Italians. The truly rich in Italy go to great pains to hide their wealth, partly for fear of kidnappers. Italians also have long been famous for double bookkeeping: one set for the taxman, one for themselves. The desire to downplay their net worth may also stem from religious upbringing. Says Milan stockbroker Paolo Azzoni: ''Catholics usually feel guilty about making a lot of money.'' All this well-mannered poor-mouthing made FORTUNE's quest for Italy's richest a dizzying exercise. ''You can't go by published numbers because there aren't many,'' says Azzoni. ''You have to go by feel.'' FORTUNE is confident that the Italians on its list are worth at least $1 billion. But some of these estimates may be as understated as the billionaires themselves.