Crete (Greece) -- History -- Insurrection, 1866-1868 -- Fiction
The Lieutenant was very pale. When he spoke his voice was low and
unnaturally distinct, and he divided his sentence into groups of two
and three words, like a man who is making a superhuman effort to
control himself.
"And what about--this young woman--who went to Athens?"
"O, she's somebody else. I couldn't be mistaken in Panayota--I tell
you I saw her, man. Why, I was as close to her as from here to that
mast yonder."
"But perhaps there's some mistake in the reason for her being there.
Perhaps----"
"Why didn't she come out, then, when she saw me? She clapped her hands
in front of her face and shrank away. My first impulse was to go in,
and then it flashed over me in a minute. Besides, you heard what
Hassan Bey said--that the lepers are nearly all Cretans."
"Do you mean to say you're yust going away without going back to
comfort her or say a word to her?"
"But since she showed plainly that she wanted to avoid me? I tell you,
old man, I'm doing the kindest thing for both of us. It's incurable,
you know, and even if it wasn't, my mother and my governor would never
consent. I should have had a circus with them, anyway."
Lindbohm walked to the taffrail and looked dreamily away toward Canea.
There was an unexpected roar of a great whistle--a boat's whistle is
always unexpected--and the anchor chain began to rattle and click.
"It takes a long time to get the anchor up, doesn't it?" asked Curtis.
Lindbohm made no reply, but when the chain finally ceased to rattle, he
asked in a low tone, and without looking at his companion:
"So you give her up, eh?"
"Why, of course, old man. Seems to me I've made that plain enough!"
The ringing of a bell seemed to awaken the sleeping ship. She
shuddered as the machinery started. There was a patter of hastening
feet on the deck and a great churning, as the wheel made its first
revolutions in the water. Shore boats were cast off, with much
shouting and gesticulating of picturesque Cretans, standing erect in
their tiny craft, violently rocked by the agitated sea. As the ship
moved majestically away, a few boats clung to her side like whiffets to
a stately stag. One by one they dropped off and drifted astern.
Lindbohm turned and looked about the deck. Spying his satchel, he
picked it up and walked to the ladder, at the foot of which one boat
was still tied. Curtis ran to him and seized him by the shoulder.
"Where are you going, old man?"
"To Panayota."
"But this is madness. You can't do anything. I tell you the girl is a
leper."
The Swede, muttering "I'll yust take my chances," continued down the
steps and took his seat in the boat.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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