Nico nudged her. “What happened?”
Zanna explained while the auctioneer moved on to the next lot. The process was slow, and by midmorning the auctioneer called for a break. They resumed the bidding at ten-thirty, and it was close to noon when the auctioneer called for bids on their Gulf sponges.
The auctioneer pointed to Nico. “These are some of the fine sponges our new Greek divers harvested from the Gulf. I think these deserve some impressive bids.”
The buyers followed the same procedure, though Zanna noted bids were now being written on many more slips of paper. Her heart soared with excitement as the auctioneer read over the bids and then called out the highest bid and price.
Zanna waved back and forth and shouted, “I accept!”
Confusion shone in the eyes of the auctioneer as he looked first at Zanna and then at Nico. “The offer isn’t made to you, miss. It needs to be accepted or rejected by him.” He pointed at Nico.
“What did he say?”
She ignored him and took a step forward. “I am the business manager for Miss Lucy Penrose, owner of the boats. She has given me written authority to conduct all business for Penrose Sponge Company.”
The auctioneer shook his head. “I don’t care what she gave you. He’s the one who needs to accept or reject the bid.”
Zanna drew closer and rose on tiptoes to whisper in Nico’s ear. “He won’t let me agree to take the bid. The acceptance must come from you.”
He smiled down at her. “And is it enough?”
She remained close to his side. “It is.”
Nico bowed his head and whispered, “So I should accept?”
“Yes,” she said.
“You know, all those men staring at us are likely thinking you have a romantic interest in me.”
Her mouth dropped open. “That’s what you’re thinking about?”
“Not entirely. I was thinking you should tell me how much the offer would be in drachmas.” He edged closer. “I think you are a good lawyer, but you don’t know what price we should accept for our harvest. I think you are judging only by what you’ve heard on previous bids.”
She knew he was right, but she wouldn’t admit it. Instead she mentally converted the bid into drachmas and whispered the amount to him.
“We can get a higher bid if we hold out a little longer.” He grinned. “You see how much we need each other?”
The twinkle in his eye and the intimacy of his words caused her insides to quiver. Why did Nico have that effect on her?
CHAPTER
17
TWO MONTHS LATER
Nico stood on the dock and raked his fingers through his thick black hair. Much had happened over the past few months. The men had continued to harvest excellent sponge, the quality far surpassing what they had anticipated when they left Greece. At auction, the competition among the buyers remained robust, with Mr. Pappas doing his best to win the bids each time he arrived at the docks. With his English much improved, Nico was pleased he no longer needed Zanna’s assistance interpreting during the sales. Still, she attended as many of them as possible, insisting she needed to be mindful of progress with the business.
The men were now saving a portion of their earnings, and many of them anticipated bringing their families to America in less than a year. Now that they were beginning to experience some profit, Zanna had convinced Dr. Penrose to use part of the money to help begin construction of more permanent housing for the men. They’d been adjusting to this new country much more quickly than any of them had anticipated. Perhaps it was due to the similarity in climate and the richness of the harvests, or the fact that the Turkish authorities had proposed new taxes and restrictions, which had begun to paralyze the sponge industry in Greece.
Nico had been thankful for these past months, yet worry pinched the edges of his mind. He wanted to believe nothing was amiss with their new venture, but his gut told him otherwise. He stood on the dock, waiting for the boats and praying the Anastasi would bear a full load. The last three times out, the boat had returned with far fewer sponges than in the past. While Markos and Felix, the divers on the Anastasi, had blamed Demetrios, the boat’s captain, for taking them into new waters that had yielded far fewer sponges, Demetrios had argued against their claims. The other crew members remained unwilling to take sides.
“Why the frown, Nico? Yesterday the bids for your sponges were higher than any that have ever been sold in Tarpon Springs.” Mr. Pappas reached inside his jacket, withdrew a fat cigar, and tucked it between his lips. “At each sale I attend, my bids must go higher in order to purchase your sponges. If I were you, I would be smiling from ear to ear. Instead, you stare out at the water like you’ve lost your last friend.” The cigar danced up and down as he spoke.
“To others it would appear I have no worries, but there are always problems that arise.” He gave the older man a sideways glance. “Surely you must know this. You have been a businessman for many years.”
Mr. Pappas pushed his straw hat off his forehead and swiped at beads of perspiration with a white handkerchief. The smell of dank water and fish permeated the air. The early morning hour and slight breeze did little to relieve the oppressive humidity that beset the area.
Nico inhaled the soggy air and blew it out in a sigh. He didn’t know what weighed on him more—the diminishing harvests on the Anastasi, or the fact that his men wouldn’t confide in him. Something was going on out in the Gulf, and the conflicting stories between the divers and captain left him looking to the rest of the crew for answers. Yet his frustration continued to mount since they refused to confirm one story or the other. If the Anastasi returned again with a small load of sponge, he would set aside his duties in the warehouse and at the auctions and go out with her crew the next time they sailed. He wanted answers. If his men wouldn’t reveal the truth, he’d find out for himself.
Pappas held a match to his cigar and inhaled quick puffs until the tip burned bright orange. “Exactly what problems trouble you? The sponges are of excellent quality, and from what your men tell me, the sponge beds are vast. You have good boats and equipment. What more could you ask for?” He held the cigar a short distance from his mouth and smiled at the glowing ash.
There was nothing but truth in what the older man said. To anyone other than those within the business, everything looked perfect. Even so, he and the men knew something wasn’t right. The crews on the other two boats had mocked the crew of the Anastasi before the three boats departed on their voyage. They’d even taken wagers, betting the Anastasi would come back with a small harvest. Nico had cringed at their raucous laughter, yet he couldn’t fault them. The men had to take their fun where they could find it. There was little laughter to be had once they were in the Gulf.
“You can talk to me, Nico. Perhaps I can help.” He arched his brows and grinned. “Or is it only the pretty little Greek girl that you trust.”
Nico frowned at the remark. “Zanna is not a little girl. She’s the manager of the business. And you’re right, I do trust her. That doesn’t mean I’m unable to trust anyone else.”
“Glad to hear it.” He clapped Nico on the shoulder. “I want you to know that you can trust me. I want to do everything I can to make sure my fellow Greeks are successful in their new home and that I have done what I could to honor my promise to Mr. Penrose.” He flicked the ash from his cigar into the murky water that slapped at the pilings. “So, tell me what troubles you.”
Nico momentarily considered the man’s comments. He didn’t know Mr. Pappas well, yet had it not been for Adelfo Pappas and his willingness to aid Mr. Penrose by writing those letters to the Greek Sponge Exchange, Nico would still be in Greece. There was no denying Mr. Pappas had been instrumental in bringing Nico and his crews to their new homeland, or that he wanted them to succeed and remain in America.
Though he doubted there was anything Mr. Pappas could tell him that would be of assistance, Nico desired the opinion of another man.
The cigar s
moke wafted toward him when he turned toward Mr. Pappas. “It’s the Anastasi. The last three times they’ve gone out, they brought in fewer sponges each time. The divers blame the captain, and the captain blames the divers. I don’t know who to believe.” He went on to detail what little he’d discovered after questioning the crew. “I suspect there’s something more to all of this, I just don’t know what it is. But I plan to find out.”
Adelfo nodded thoughtfully. “And how will you do that if the men won’t confide in you?”
“If they don’t return with a good harvest this time, I plan to go along with them on their next voyage and dive myself. I’ll see then who is speaking the truth and who is not.”
Mr. Pappas took a long draw on his cigar, sucked in his cheeks, and attempted to blow smoke circles, his mouth opening and closing like a banked fish. Weighed down by the stickiness in the air, the puffs of smoke resembled nothing more than the haze that enveloped them. “Seems as though you don’t need my help after all. You’ve already worked out a solution to your problem.”
“We’ll see. I’m not as confident as you. I’m praying I’ll discover my worry was uncalled for and they will return with an overflowing harvest.” He shaded his eyes with one hand. “We should know soon. I see the St. Nicolas on the horizon.”
Though the boats were in sight, it seemed to take forever before they finally docked. Nico knew it was because of his own concerns. They’d truly taken no longer than normal. The St. Nicolas was first to dock, and as usual the sponges were strung and piled in every available space. The same was true of the Crete. Nico held his breath as the Anastasi pulled alongside the dock.
The moment they’d cast their lines to the dock, he cupped his hands to his mouth. “How was your harvest this time?” he called.
Only the screech of gulls broke the silence, until Markos shook his head. “Not as good as we hoped, but the sponges we harvested are good ones.”
Nico’s shoulders sagged. “That’s not the report I hoped for.”
Markos shrugged and held out his open palms. “We do what we can.”
“Where is Felix?” Nico scanned the deck.
“He’s below. I don’t think he’s feeling well.”
The hairs on the back of Nico’s neck stood up. “What’s wrong? Did he stay down too long?” Two of the men secured the boat to the moorings, and in one long stride Nico jumped onto the deck of the Anastasi. He went to the captain. “I want to see him, and I want to see the logbook.”
He descended the narrow steps and came alongside the man’s makeshift bunk. Felix’s eyes appeared to be mere slits, but when Nico spoke, the diver’s eyes popped wide open. Nico knelt beside him to gain a better look. “Markos tells me you’re sick. Were you down too long, or did you make too many dives in one day?”
Felix rolled his head back and forth on the pillow. “It’s not the bends, Nico. As soon as one of us is ill, you think we’re breaking your rules.”
“My rules are in place so I can keep you alive. Did you lose consciousness while you were underwater? Were you breathing too rapidly? You may have pushed beyond the crew’s pumping limit. Remember, they can’t sustain more than thirty revolutions a minute, and if you dove too deep, they can’t even maintain that rate.”
“No, I told you, I followed the rules.”
After looking at Felix’s eyes, Nico could tell that the man hadn’t received enough air at some point during the dive. The whites of his eyes were nearly as dark as the pupils, evidence the outside water pressure had suddenly become greater than the air pressure inside his helmet and suit. Something had happened to create the imbalance of air and water pressure, and Nico guessed Felix had descended too rapidly and the pump crew hadn’t been able to build up air pressure quickly enough. Felix’s diving suit likely compressed and pushed his body upward into the rigid helmet where there was less pressure, thus causing the injury to his eyes. Either that or he’d allowed himself to sink into deeper water while below so that the crew couldn’t maintain adequate pressure. Either way, there was no doubt in Nico’s mind that Felix was withholding the truth.
He fisted his hands. “Don’t lie to me, Felix. Your eyes reveal what happened down there. The skin surrounding them has already turned dark.”
“I didn’t want to place blame on the crew. They couldn’t help it. I accidentally dropped into much deeper water, and the pump crew couldn’t build up the air pressure quickly enough to keep up with the increasing water pressure.” He reached for Nico’s arm. “It isn’t their fault. They turned the flywheel as fast as they could once I signaled the line tender. The drop wasn’t so deep that I suffered permanent injuries. My sight will return. Nothing happened that will keep me from diving again.”
Nico arched his brows. “You think not? I’m sure your wife would disagree if she was out there on the dock, and you can’t be sure you will regain your eyesight.”
“Diving is my life, Nico. Once I can see again, I must return. This was an accident that could happen to any one of us.”
“If what you told me is true, then I can’t fault you. We’ll talk about diving once the doctor says you have fully recovered. I am planning to go out on the Anastasi the next time she sails, so I will take your place.” He stood, staring down at Felix lying in the bunk. “Stay here. I want the doctor to examine you before you leave the boat.” He reached down and grasped Felix’s arm. “If you ever want to dive for me again, don’t move from this bunk until the doctor gives permission. Is that clear?”
Felix offered a mock salute. “Aye, aye, Captain.”
Nico frowned. “This isn’t a joke, Felix. You could have died down there.”
“But I didn’t,” the sailor muttered.
Nico ignored the remark. He’d been around divers all his life. He was one of them, and he understood them—at least most of the time. Felix’s argument came as no surprise. Every diver he’d ever known was filled with a daring bravado, a willingness to push the limits. They’d stay underwater just a little longer, ascend or descend a little faster than was prudent, overlook signs of the bends, dive to unsafe depths, remain underwater far too long, each one certain nothing would happen to him. They were men eager to show their mettle while flirting with danger and placing their lives at risk. Nico had seen too many of them die. The wails of their widows and children echoed throughout the Greek islands. He didn’t want the same outcome here in Tarpon Springs.
After returning to the deck, Nico sent one of the men in search of Dr. Penrose, then gestured to Markos. When the man drew near, Nico pinned him with a hard look. “I thought you said Felix was ill. You knew he was suffering from the squeeze, yet you lied to me. If he lay down there and died, would your conscience bother you at all, Markos?”
“Only his eyes were damaged. He wouldn’t have died.” The diver shoved his hands into his pockets. “He begged me not to tell you. He begged all of us.” Markos hollered the last remark and looked at the men unloading the sponges. “Didn’t he?”
They nodded their agreement.
“Just because he asked, doesn’t mean you should do it.” Nico stood in the midst of the crew. “I think it’s shameful you’d all agree to keep such a secret. What’s come over you men?”
One of the crewmen who turned the pump’s flywheel stepped forward. “I wanted to tell you what happened. Once we knew he needed more air, we turned the flywheel as fast as we could, but we couldn’t get enough air to him quick enough.” He bowed his head. “What happened is our fault.”
“If what Felix told me is true, it was an accident and nobody is to blame. If there’s any fault here, it’s that you men didn’t immediately come forward and tell me after you docked. You’ve all seen what the squeeze can do. Did you think I wouldn’t notice that Felix couldn’t see?”
The pump handler nodded. “I understand, but you know how it is for us. We need to be in the water sponging so we can support our families still in Greece. Felix can’t give up sponging. He said he was sure his sight would retu
rn, and he was fearful you’d never let him dive for you again.”
“I need every man if we’re going to be successful, but I won’t put money before the lives of my crew. I’d like to think you value your own lives as much as I do.” Nico shifted his attention to the captain. “What news can you give me regarding the harvest?” He glanced at the sponges remaining in the boat and those on the dock. “It doesn’t look as though you’ve fared any better than the last few trips.”
The captain shook his head. “The divers will tell you the same tale they’ve given you the last three times out, but I can tell you that the waters they were diving in are where the divers of the Crete and St. Nicolas have harvested large yields. Felix and Markos don’t fill their baskets with the same speed of other divers. Maybe the St. Nicolas should send me some of their divers, and I’ll give them Markos and Felix.”
“Felix won’t be going out on the next voyage. I plan to take his place.”
The captain straightened his shoulders and tipped his hat. “Now, that would please me very much.”
Nico’s head snapped up at the clatter of feet on the wooden dock. He heaved a sigh when he saw Dr. Penrose hurrying toward the boat. He held out his hand and helped her onto the deck and gestured toward the stairs. “Felix is below. I’ll wait up here unless you call for me.” Thankful his English had improved enough to be understood, he offered the doctor a faint smile.
Lucy started toward the stairs. Before heading down, she glanced over her shoulder. “He may need to be moved to my office. Walking could be harmful, even if he’s able. I admit, I don’t know much about diving injuries.”
Nico nodded. “If so, the crew will help move him. But I think it is only Felix’s eyes that are injured. With time, such injuries usually heal.” He hesitated, then added, “Sometimes the squeeze paralyzes divers for life. Some even die.” He signaled to two of the crew members. “You are to remain by the stairs, and if the doctor calls for you to move Felix, help her do so at once.”
The Lady of Tarpon Springs Page 16