Mattina had seized his hand and was kissing it.
“To my own island? To Poros? God make your years many, Capetan Thanassi, for this that you are doing for me!”
X
The big white caique at Piræus was ready laden, only waiting for its captain, and an hour later, Mattina, in a little corner between two planks of wood and a big case, lay curled up on the low deck, with the cool night wind blowing salt and fresh on her face. She listened to the water flap-flapping against the wooden sides of the boat, and dimly saw the great white sails bellying out above her head. She heaved a big sigh of content and stretched out her feet under a loose piece of sack-cloth.
The harbor lights of Piræus were already far behind them when, rocked by the softly swaying movement, she fell asleep.
And how good it was the next morning to awake at sea, with the sun high above the horizon on a blue September day, to feel safe and free, to lean over the side of the boat, munching the hunk of bread and the piece of “touloumi”[29] cheese which one of the sailors had given her, while she watched the swish and sparkle of the water as the tall prow of the caique divided it, and listened to Capetan Thanassi’s loud orders to his men, as they tacked round by the lighthouse.
Ah! and how good it was, as soon as they turned the corner, to see in the distance the white houses of Poros!
It was even better when she stepped down the plank thrown from the boat to the shore and was treading Poros soil once more. Then it was like dreams coming true! The caique had anchored far away from the village, in a little creek before one came to the Beach of the Little Pines. Someone from Athens was building a house there, a big house with balconies and terraces. Capetan Thanassi had brought a boat load of wood-work for the doors and windows, and the workmen were busy unloading it almost before the anchor had been dropped.
“What will you do?” the old captain asked Mattina. “Before noon, when this unloading is over, I shall sail into the village. Will you wait?”