'Much better than ouzo.'
'You talk too much,' said Craig and started the engine as he began to think of what he would do.
He had a girl with a secret, and money, and a most improbable ancestry. There was the possibility that she was lying of course, but no one sane would use such a story for a cover. It would be simplest to go to Menos and find out for himself. He lay down on the deck, and wondered what to do with the girl. Hand her over to Loomis, he supposed. Loomis would be interested, all right. There might be a trade agreement in it. Craig lay flat on his back, looking up at the big tender stars, hearing the soft creak of timbers and halyards, the even slap of water. He fell asleep.
* Chapter 4
When he woke the girl was 'I wish to know what
standing over him once more, is happening,' she said.
'We are going to Menos,' he said. 'And my servants?'
'They won't be harmed—unless they do something stupid,' said Craig.
'And they're not your servants.'
'They work for me,' Selina said. 'It is my business to protect them.'
Craig looked up; she was perfectly serious.
'You haven't done all that well so far,' he said.
She looked down at him, her eyes blazing with anger.
'Bernard told me that the English were always polite,' she said. 'Why don't you stand up when I speak to you?'
'One of your servants stuck a knife into me,' said Craig. 'I'm tired.'
'I don't think you are behaving very well,' said the girl. 'I am a princess after all.'
'Oh, princess, live for ever,' said Craig.
The girl looked down at him, puzzled. The effect was delicious.
'You are making a joke of me!' she said.
Craig nodded. 'It's an English custom.'
'To laugh at women? In my country women are taken seriously.'
'Tell me about it,' said Craig.
She began to talk then, eagerly, of a country ringed by mountains and desert, a country high and clean and fertile, with fast-running streams and great valleys of lush grass where herds of free-running horses roamed at will. She talked of the Naked Place too, the one menace in her Paradise, then turned quickly to the castles on the hills above the valleys, little square towers that Crusaders might have built, where blue-robed men practiced, with infinite care, the arts of riding and swordsmanship. The girl talked on and on, until at last her voice began to quiver a little.
'I shouldn't speak like this,' she said.
'You're homesick,' said Craig, and had to explain what that meant.
At once the proud head came up, the eyes were cold and distant as a falcon's.
'You must not mock me,' she said.
Gravely, Craig apologized.
'And smugglers,' said the girl.
'—and smugglers. We're not used to entertaining princesses. We came out tonight to do some business and ended up in a fight. It left us a bit bewildered.'
'You were wounded too,' said the girl. 'You took it
well.'
'You've seen wounded men before?'
'Of course,' said Selina. 'Although nowadays it's rather dull, really. So little happens. Not like my grandfather's time. The Arabs came in then, looking for slaves.'
'What happened?' asked Craig.
'My grandfather killed them. The people belonged to him.'* Selina looked at him very seriously. 'One must always fight to defend one's property.'
Craig thought that if only he had this girl to talk to he would never need ouzo again.
'That is what I did tonight,' he said, and Selina nodded.
'You were absolutely right,' she said. 'After all, you know nothing about me.'
Slowly, with great care, Craig stood up, then salaamed before her.
'Now you laugh at me again,' she said. 'You do not believe I'm a princess, do you?'
She stormed over to a suitcase and flung it open, burrowing like a mole into it, hurling out stockings, dresses, panties, girdles, bras, shoes, until at last she drew out a whole series of robes, silk, linen, wool; blues and reds and greens, exquisitely, painfully embroidered, heavy with gold bullion and precious stones. Craig looked at diamonds, opals, topaz, pearls; a series of gold coins; American double eagles, napoleons, louis d'or, sovereigns from George Ill's time to George Vs.
'You have a fortune here,' he said. 'You don't think I'll steal it?'
'I know you won't,' said the girl.
'You're very kind,' said Craig. 'How old are you, Selina?'
'Nineteen,' she said. 'I'm not a girl—any more than you are English.'
'Aren't I?'
'Of course not,' she said. 'Bernard told me what swine they all were. You're much too nice, but you shouldn't tell lies.'
Craig said: 'But surely Bernard is English?'
The girl said: 'I'm sorry. I can't talk about him,' then asked at once: 'What is your name?'
'Petros,' said Craig. 'Serafin is my father.'
The girl nodded. 'That is better,' she said. 'You must not tell lies, Petros.'
Before dawn, they found the Andraki fishing fleet, and Serafin made for two of its boats. One of them, skippered by his cousin, carried Gruber and Bauer, the other, skippered by his wife's brother, had Selina aboard, then took station with Serafin's boat as they set course again for Menos. Craig slept on as the sun came up, and picked out one by one, a spatter of islands. Serafin, tireless with age, held the course for Menos, made for its tiny harbor, then waved to his wife's brother, who sheered off to a friendly headland and settled down to wait. Serafin called softly to Craig, who groaned awake, then lurched to his feet to help Serafin bring the caique to port.
He took the wheel as Serafin's hands went to the sheets, the heavy sails tumbled and Serafin reached forward to lash and stow. Craig coaxed the caique toward the harbor, watching the white town rising in terraces from the beach's glittering sand. It was a pretty little town, merging into its framework of pine trees, vines, and olives, the white walls offset by roofs of blue and scarlet tiles. The engine sputtered on, and the boat nudged its way carefully into the bay before the town. Craig put the engine into neutral and wished for the thousandth time that a caique diesel was equipped with reverse. Already a gaggle of its kind was tied up by the quay. There was no room to throw a rope ashore. The old man said: 'I'll go. You'll only start to bleed again.'
He lowered the dinghy and rowed the mooring rope ashore. As he did so, wind and drift caught the caique, and drew her broadside on to the quay. Craig engaged the engine and gently gave it power, turning it to head out to sea as Serafin reached the shore, and a couple of longshoremen passed the mooring rope round a bollard and warped in the caique by sheer brute strength.
Craig killed the engine, tied up alongside another caique, and went ashore to where Serafin and the two longshoremen negotiated like managing directors the precise sum so delicate an operation involved. They reached an agreement at last, and Craig and Serafin moved down through narrow, shadowed streets to a taverna, where they breakfasted on fresh coarse bread and coffee with goat's milk, sitting at ease, not talking, until it was time to walk through the town to the Caf6 Aphrodite, sit inside in its shade, and drink resinated wine.
The thick walls, the low ceiling, were whitewashed and cool, and the two men looked out in content through the open door at the blinding whiteness of the street outside. The wine was good, and they enjoyed it in silence. They loved each other and they were content. They had faced danger together too often to be afraid, and so they waited. Serafin noticed that Craig drank only one cup of wine in an hour, and smoked not at all. His son was himself once more, fighting to regain the mastery of his body, to be again the strong and dangerous man that Serafin so
