It was raining. Confusedly, in the westerly wind, the Greek destroyers with their financiers' names and their metal masts through the lattice work of which the sky shone like new wine, jostled transport ships, cargo boats from Patras, unable to proceed on their journeys, and even feluccas laden with flour and asphalt stopped in their island coast trade and guarded by searchlights from Italian hydroplanes. Like a belated sailor returning to his ship, Lewis, in a boat rowed by two men on the bilious sea, was looking with the aid of a pocket lamp for the _Basileus II_, on board which Irene was. In the darkness he strayed amongst screw-blades, beneath the stiff figure-heads and amongst the anchor cables; one heard concertinas, forecastle songs, the creaking of masts and the barking of dogs on the sailing ships. A trimmer emptied a scuttle of clinkers almost on top of him. Idle passengers, to relieve the boredom of quarantine, gazed at him over their black bulwarks and cursed him in Greek. At last a searchlight swung the night round and the word _Basileus II_ appeared on a poop in letters of gold. XVI HE found her in her cabin. A bunk with a wooden frame, a screwed-up porthole, washing soaking in the basin, open trunks. A fan churned the exhausted air. He faltered: "Irene!" "Don't touch me!" "But you sent for me ..." "I know.... Don't let's waste time. I have something important to say to you. Come on to the upper deck." On the upper deck they had difficulty in keeping their feet for the wind seemed to seize them by main force; the ship was straining at her anchors. In the distance an intermittent flash of red alternating with green. Above them the lifeboats hanging like black airships in the empty sky, lit up for one moment by stars; round the ship the sea was making a noise like nuts rolling about. "Why are you here?" "We were held up by the Italians. I embarked, at Marseilles, I was going to Athens ..." "To escape?" "Of course." "Irene, do forgive me."