With a brief murmur of thanks, she turned to the older woman. “I'm happy to see you looking so well this morning."
Mrs. Papoulas grimaced. “I am better, though still a little wobbly. Hopefully, I will be back to normal by tonight."
“Do you feel up to going to San Miguel?"
Nikolaos had drawn deck chairs into the shade cast by the overhang of the bridge. “Frankly, I don't believe it would be wise,” the elderly woman said as she dropped down onto one of the chairs.
Nikolaos stretched out on a chair next to his grandmother, a quirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watched Maura draw up a chair on the opposite side, well away from him. “The ship will drop anchor in the harbor at Cozumel,” he pointed out, “and the passengers will be taken ashore by tenders. Standing in line to embark, making the transfer from the ship to the tender, walking into town, is all a bit strenuous."
Mrs. Papoulas lifted a hand in protest. “It's the ride in the tender that I object to, nothing more. I am perfectly capable of the walking, and the standing too, for that matter."
“The tenders,” Maura asked in a tactful change of subject. “Are they some type of boat?"
“Actually, the closed, motorized lifeboats the ship is carrying. They may not look it, hanging on their struts, but each is capable of carrying fifty passengers in comfort."
“I suppose,” Mrs. Papoulas said as Maura nodded her comprehension, “that you intend to explore San Miguel, shop for the famous black coral?"
“I suppose I will have to, since the tour to Tulum has been cancelled."
“You had signed up for that? How disappointing."
Maura gave a nod. “I like seeing old places where people have lived, whether it's old houses, or ancient ruins. I've never cared that much for shopping."
“Such a shame,” the older woman said, then turned to her grandson. “Nikolaos, this cannot be a good thing for the line, raising the expectations of people like Maura, and then withdrawing the promise of such outings at the last minute. Surely something can be done."
“I was just thinking that I could hire a boat to take Maura to the mainland to see Tulum."
“She couldn't go alone,” his grandmother objected.
“Naturally I would go with her to see that everything went smoothly."
“No, really —” Maura began.
The elderly woman ignored her protest. “I was thinking of how we could avoid such disappointments in the future, actually, but it would be wonderful if you would escort Maura."
“I'll be glad to do it; shopping has no appeal to me, either."
“No!” Maura said. “I don't want you to go to that trouble for me."
“But why? It's a small thing, after all,” Nikolaos's grandmother said.
“It isn't. It would entail all kinds of arrangements and scheduling. We might even miss the sailing of the ship."
“That isn't likely. Captain Spiridion would wait for you and Nikolaos, I'm sure."
“The expense —"
“Matters not at all, since Nikolaos would take care of it."
“I couldn't allow that,” Maura said firmly. “I prefer to be obligated to no one, least of all a man."
“My dear, there is no question of that, though I applaud your attitude.” An anxious frown between her eyes, Mrs. Papoalas looked to her grandson.
“Even so, that's the way I feel,” Maura insisted, a flush rising to her cheekbones.
“I'm afraid it's my fault, grandmother,” Nikolaos broke in. “I had a few things to say yesterday about people who take advantage, and it appears Maura is set on proving me wrong."
“That isn't the only reason,” Maura said, “but if it satisfies you, and persuades you to drop this entire idea, then I won't argue with it."
“That's something, at least,” Nikolaos replied, his tone silky.
Mrs. Papoulas looked from Maura to her grandson, distress mirrored in her fine old eyes. “Maura, my dear, are you sure you won't reconsider? Think what an opportunity you are refusing."
Maura sent her a wry smile. “I have thought, but though I wouldn't upset you for the world, I can't accept this from you."
“Nikolaos,” the older woman said, rounding on her grandson as he lay with his arms crossed over his chest beside her, “what have you done to Maura?"
His answer came slowly as he allowed his dark gaze to move past his grandmother to where Maura sat on the other side. “Nothing,” he said, “that you wouldn't approve, or that I wouldn't enjoy doing again."
Cozumel was flat, a low-lying island set down in the turquoise waters of the gulf. The town of San Miguel was not large. Little more than a village, in fact, it was gaining some small reputation as a tourist attraction because of its beaches, its quiet, slow-moving atmosphere, and its inexpensiveness.
As the Athena glided into the harbor, another ship, large and white, perhaps a little larger than the Athena, could be seen, one bearing the red flag of the U.S.S.R. and with the hammer and sickle emblazoned on its smokestack. From the port of New Orleans also, it had left the dock well ahead of the Greek ship. The first thing Maura noticed about it was that its lifeboats were open and without visible sign of mechanical propulsion. Her interest was aroused because she had been inspecting the Athena's tenders. These were substantial, solidly constructed boats with glass windows set into the covered top, a built-up housing for the controls, and inside, rows of cushioned seats. It was fascinating watching the great boats being swung out from the mother ship on their hydraulic arms, then lowered to the water.
Because of her interest in seeing the lifeboats put into use, and the necessity of running down to the cabin for a shirt to cover her shorts, Maura was late in lining up to go ashore. She was one of the last to board the tender for its final ship-to-shore run. At the sound of her name, she turned to see Alexandros. He moved in close behind her on the landing platform, taking her elbow as she stepped down into the tender.
“I am so happy that I caught you, Maura,” he said, his smile intimate. He indicated a seat by the window, waited until three more people had boarded, then secured the door. Giving the signal to start to the crewman standing before the controls, he swung around and dropped into the vacant seat beside Maura.
As the boat pulled away from the ship, Maura turned to look back at the great white vessel. Leaning on the rail high above, watching the departure of the tender, was a man. Nikolaos Vassos straightened, a set look to his shoulders, then he turned abruptly away.
“May I walk with you in San Miguel as you visit the shops?” Alexandros was asking. “I have a few hours of time free and nothing to do, unless you will allow me to spend it with you?"
“What? Oh.” Maura swung back toward the officer with a smile. “I would be glad to have you come, if you are certain you won't be bored."
“Bored? Never. I will help you bargain with the Mexicans. They have the custom here, as in my country. In New Orleans, no; the price is set and cannot be lowered, but in San Miguel, yes."
Alexandros was correct. The Mexican shopkeepers in their tiny, open-air shops built of rough plywood were willing, even eager, to strike a bargain. Maura, who had intended to purchase no more than a piece or two of black coral as a memento for herself and a gift for her great-aunt, found herself buying a half dozen items of the hard, shiny material for the price quoted for one. The waters off Cozumel was one of the few places in the world where black coral, the naturally occurring color of the hardened, centuries-old marine life, was to be found. Cut into shapes such as hearts, horns, owls, and sea turtles, it made lovely pendants or bracelet charms. Maura was also unable to resist a box of brass inlaid with mother-of-pearl from abalone shells, a silver ring set with a miniature seascape done in abalone, and finally a long evening gown of intricate cut-work lace in soft off-white cotton.
Standing aside while Alexandros haggled with the shopkeepers, seeing the curious glances they flung in her direction grew embarrassing. It was that as much as anything else that made her
turn away from the shops. With Alexandros carrying her packages, they strolled past a coin dealer proudly showing extremely suspect pieces of eight, and struck off in the direction of the town square.
It was growing humidly hot as the afternoon advanced. The almond trees, the hibiscus and chenille plants that graced the raised stone of the square had a tired look, the drained appearance of places where summer lingers too long. The area around the center of town was undergoing a face-lift, with some buildings in the process of being demolished, and others being rebuilt. At one location, workmen, shirtless in the broiling sun, were mixing concrete by hand and carrying it up a ladder in a bucket to repair a wall. In another, they were using the same method to form a floor. The stones of the square, smoothed and shaped by hand, had been made from the same substance. And piled behind a tumbled-down building was a huge heap of concrete chunks that had hardened before they could be used.
It was easy to admire the diligence and perseverance of the men working under such primitive conditions, but it was also easy to regret the waste of human endeavor when there were machines to do the job faster and with more competence. And yet, looking at the hand-wrought concrete stones of the steps that led to the fountain in the square, Maura did not think that the perfectly formed, mathematically even blocks turned out by American mass production would have been nearly so attractive.
“Would you like a cold drink?” Alexandros asked, nodding at one of the sidewalk cafés where passengers from both the Russian ship and their own were refreshing themselves.
There were flies hovering over the sticky tables that sat in the molten Mexican sun. Maura shook her head. “I think I would just as soon wait until I get back to the ship."
“As you wish,” he said with a shrug. “Are you ready now? A tender will be leaving the dock every half hour."
“I'm ready, but what about you? Don't you have a little more free time left?"
“I have seen San Miguel before. It is you I prefer to spend my hours with."
The sincerity of his words could not be doubted, and for that reason, they were touching. Maura, moving beside the officer toward the wharf where the tender was docked, felt a shadow of uneasiness. She glanced at Alexandros. He appeared to be in his late twenties, a handsome man, self-assured, competent in his field. She had watched as he helped guide the ship into its anchorage at noon, maintaining radio contact with the bridge from his station on the bow of the ship. He had seemed then to know exactly what he was doing. Why was it she had the feeling now that he was diffident, somehow vulnerable, in her presence?
“You must meet a great many girls on these cruises, Alexandros,” she said lightly.
“A few. Most are silly teenagers, or else they have men already or are—not pretty. Few women who look as you do travel alone."
“I think there must have been enough to give you practice in making compliments."
“You are teasing me because I try to tell you that I think you are beautiful."
“You might say that,” Maura agreed, smiling.
“Good. I think it means you like me."
Was it his openness that defeated her, or his conceit? She could not tell, “It's nice to meet and talk with someone from another country."
“Yes,” he agreed emphatically. “Tonight is the Sadie Hawkins night. You are familiar?"
His accent was such that she could not be certain she had the name right. “I'm not sure."
“I do not know how it comes about, but it is the night when the ladies invite the men to dance. You know?"
“Oh, yes, of course.” Sadie Hawkins, from the old Al Capp cartoon strip, the day celebrated in the backwoods when if a girl could catch a man, he was hers.
“Yes? Then if I come to the lounge tonight, will you ask me to dance with you?"
“I don't know,” she said slowly. “Is it necessary for me to participate?"
“Participate? You mean to play the game? No, it is not necessary, but it is fun for the ladies, a change of the tables."
He meant that the game allowed the ladies to turn the tables on the men. In the discussion of the term, and of the origins of Sadie Hawkins Day, Maura managed to avoid giving him a direct answer.
There was a message awaiting Alexandros when he stepped on board the Athena. He accepted it reluctantly. Making his excuses, he disappeared along the passageways of the lower deck, though not before he had promised to see Maura later in the evening.
Maura went straight to her cabin. Putting her parcels away in the closet, she ran her fingers through her hair. She felt sticky with perspiration. The heat of the Mexican port seemed to have seeped into the ship. As far as she could tell, the air-conditioning system was not working. With the cabin like an oven, she could not make up her mind to have the hot bath she badly wanted; it would be too warm afterward to dress for dinner. Anything she put on would be as limp as a dishcloth in minutes.
She considered calling the purser's desk to complain, then decided against it. No doubt if the other returning passengers had found the same conditions she had, there would be complaints enough, and more.
After bathing her face for a feeling of freshness and running a brush through her hair, Maura took the stairs up to the promenade. She circled the deck at a slow stroll, enjoying the trade wind from the sea, noting idly that six times around the ship equaled a mile, a convenient bit of information for the early-morning walkers and joggers. There were a number of them on the ship; she had seen them that morning, doggedly putting in their laps.
The sun was beginning to slip down the sky in the west, losing its fiery strength. Maura climbed higher to the lido deck and sought out a chair facing in that direction. She had just dropped down onto it when the engines began to rumble. Getting to her feet again, she moved to the railing to watch the anchor being drawn up and the propellers stir mud from the bottom of the harbor as the ship swung and headed out to sea once more.
On deck four, there was a section of the prow of the ship where the passengers could not trespass. This was the province of the crew and the kitchen staff, and also a place of storage for great coils of rope, a loading crane, a steamlined speedboat with inboard motors, and an enormous propeller of solid bronze. There had been a similar propeller stored on the other cruise ship in which Maura and her aunt had sailed. It had crossed her mind to wonder at it once or twice, though she had never sought an explanation. Now as she stood at the railing overlooking the prow, a man and his wife discovered the great chunk of bronze. As they turned to Maura, including her in their speculation over its reason for being there, she shook her head, unable to enlighten them.
“The propeller is a spare,” came a voice behind her, as Nikolaos, his manner casual, joined their group, moving to stand close beside Maura. “No two ships are the same in weight and balance. The propellers for each must be cast with precision to take these factors into account. For that reason, each ship's propeller is made in duplicate and carried on board, for the chance of losing one is great, and the expense and delay in having another cast to exact size would be too much."
“What if they lose their spare?” the man asked.
“I can assure you that regardless of whether it is the original or the duplicate, no propeller is abandoned without a great effort first being made to retrieve it."
“Divers, salvage equipment, and the like?"
“As you say."
Satisfied, the man and his wife thanked Nikolaos and wandered away. Maura leaned on her elbows on the railing. “It was nice of you to take the time to explain things to those people."
Nikolaos sent her a dark glance. “Good public relations."
“I might have known."
“Yes, you might,” he answered, his tone biting.
She had not expected him to be so sensitive to the satire in her tone. It seemed best not to comment. “Since you have the facts at your fingertips, how fast are we going now?"
“Just now we are only beginning to pick up speed after leaving Cozumel. The Athe
na has a cruising speed of about thirty knots, which can be translated into approximately thirty-five miles an hour according to your American measurements."
“It's a good thing we travel all night, or we would never get anywhere,” Maura said in mock dismay.
He turned to meet her gaze. “On a cruise ship, it isn't arriving that's important, it's the journey."
“Oh, come,” she chided, “you almost sound as if you prefer this slow means of travel over—what was it you usually use, a private jet?"
“It has certain advantages."
“Such as?” she inquired.
“Time to think, to get to know people; isolation, at least for a short while, from business problems."
“I would think with the means so readily available to you, that you would go to sea more often."
“How do you know I don't?"
Maura made a small movement of her shoulders. “I suppose I guessed it. Your grandmother said she could not persuade you to make this Caribbean run to check on it."
“Yes, it has been a long time,” he said with a nod. “Like all men with responsibilities, there seemed no stopping place. Then, I thought I had had my fill of ships. I sailed two years as a crewman aboard a Vassos ship on the Mediterrean circuit after I completed university training."
“Which explains why you are aware of the problems of the men on these cruise ships,” Maura said almost to herself.
“Yes."
A small silence fell between them. The sun dropped behind a bank of low-lying clouds, edging them with gold, shining through the layers in hues of soft orange, pink, and mauve that blended with the dark ink-blue of the sea. The glowing colors were reflected in the water, and also shone softly on Maura's face as she gazed out over the gently moving waves.
“Did you enjoy San Miguel?” Nikolaos asked, shifting his stance to face her more freely.
“It was interesting."
“But not Tulum?"
“Well, no,” she was forced to agree. “It was not Tulum."
Love at Sea Page 6