"Sh-h!" she said, coming up into the room and advancing upon him with her finger to her lips. "Who are you?" she added in Greek.
He was about to answer that he was the steward, in spite of the obvious injustice of such a query, when the outer door leading to the deck was opened and the young man named Amos appeared with a tray of dishes. He stepped into the little pantry to set down his burden and then made a profound obeisance.
"Tch!" said the lady, "Who is this?"
"The pantryman, Madama."
"Tell him to fill my lamp with oil."
"Your lamp, Madama?" quavered the steward. "Is Madama in the Captain's room? I have not been told."
Evanthia beckoned Amos and pointed down the stairs. "The room on the right," she said. "Fill the lamp with oil and light it. Make the bed. Go!"
She watched him descend.
"Now," she said to the steward, "is this the way you attend to passengers? Bring me some meat. I am starving."
"Yes, yes! In a moment, Madama." He hurried to and fro, twisting the end seat for her to take it, dashing into his pantry and bringing out dishes, a cruet, a napkin. Evanthia seated herself and began to devour a piece of bread. She watched the steward as he moved to and fro.