Greek Wedding (29 page)

‘I'm glad to know you were so confident of me,
kyria
.'

‘Well, I shan't come,' said Peter.

‘That's entirely your own affair.' Brett rang the hand-bell for Price. ‘If you can really take us, Alex, we'll sail tonight. Barlow has standing orders to get steam up the minute he sees the
Philip
. Thank God we've coal enough for the trip. We won't hold you back as we did last time.'

‘Ah, but what a pleasure it was!'

Alex's glowing look for Phyllida warned her that he had indeed taken everything she had said in the wrong spirit. It would be all to do over again. Oh, why had she been such a fool in the first place? She sighed, and turned to Peter: ‘You can't mean to abandon us now?'

‘You surely don't imagine I'll abandon Greece?'

‘But,
Petros mou
,' Alex intervened. ‘Think a little. It's only to go so far as Zante. And, to tell truth, I'm short-handed on the
Philip
. I'd counted on you to sail with me and lend a hand as you have so often done before. Besides—' He took Peter's arm
and led him away from the others out into the courtyard, throwing a reassuring glance back to Phyllida as they went.

Brett was busy giving his orders to Price, who received them with his usual calm. ‘Packed and ready by this evening? Very good, sir, and glad to be going. But what about rations for the trip? We're pretty short by now, and I don't reckon they'll be much better off on the
Helena
.'

‘I've been thinking about that.' Brett turned to Phyllida. ‘Your friend Dr. Howe's back in town. Do you think he could be prevailed upon to let us have sufficient for the trip? For a good price, of course. He must still have some provisions left from that last American relief ship. I dislike to have to ask it, but you, at least, have certainly earned his help by all the work you've done for him, here in Nauplia.'

‘I don't know—' Phyllida, too, hated the idea of putting such a request to Dr. Howe. His stories of the peasants of the Morea, living on herbs, and snails and more unmentionable food in frail wigwams made of poles and leaves had impressed her deeply. How could they take even a little food out of those starving mouths?

She was relieved when Alex, returning with Peter, picked up the subject and disposed of it in his usual definite way. ‘Food? You've enough for a few days? Then we'll round Cape Matapan and stop at Kitries for what we need. I promise you, my people will never let friends of mine go hungry.'

*          *          *

It was nearly a month since the three women had left the house, and they were appalled at the change in the town. Most houses showed traces of gunfire, or looting, or both. Many of them were entirely destroyed, their wretched inhabitants camping among the ruins in huts made of poles and blankets. And over all hung a vague, indefinable odour—the smell of death.

‘Dear God,' said Phyllida. ‘I had no idea.' The three women were hurrying along, surrounded by the men of the party.

‘No,' said Jenny. ‘I'm just as glad I didn't. Lucky for us our house was under the cliff. But, these poor Greeks; to think they've done this to themselves.'

‘Yes. One of the few towns that didn't get destroyed in the fight against the Turks. It's heartbreaking. Oh look ! There's
Dr. Howe!'

The young American was surrounded by a clamorous crowd of half-starved, ragged Greeks, but detached himself for a moment to join their little party. ‘You're getting out? I'm glad. I'd been meaning to come and see you—but you can see how it is. Things are worse here than anywhere, I think.' He walked along with them, explaining that he had been delivering relief supplies to the islands and down along the coast of the Morea. ‘But it's bad everywhere. How are you off for food?'

When he learned that they only had supplies for three days, he insisted on adding to them. ‘Suppose you're becalmed? It's not safe to start with so little. At least the poor wretches on land can eke out their rations with snails and shellfish, prickly pear and what herbs they can still find.' He scribbled an order for flour. ‘It's all I've left, I'm afraid,' and parted from them at the town gate. The soldiers on duty began by demanding immense sums to let them through, but Alex dealt with them rapidly. ‘The name Mavromikhalis still has its magic,' said Brett.

‘Even here,' agreed Alex. ‘But just wait till you get to Kitries.'

‘Shall we need to stop there now?'

‘It depends on the wind. You may be independent of it, in your splendid
Helena
, but this time I'm afraid you will have to set your pace by mine. I don't intend to part from you till I have seen you safe in the harbour at Zante. And I don't know about your sailors, but I know mine won't work without their food—and their wine. I think we'd best resign ourselves to a stop at Kitries.'

‘It's the most beautiful country I've ever seen.' Phyllida leaned her arms on the
Helena's
rail and gazed back at the turrets of the Palamede outlined against the violet evening sky, with one cypress tree rising above them like a banner.

‘And how glad I am to be leaving it.' Jenny laughed. ‘I never thought I'd live to be so grateful to Alex. And don't you just hope he's making Peter do some work for a change?'

‘Yes.' Phyllida, too, had been shocked at the way Peter had left all the work of the embarkation to Brett. Surely, by now, he
was well enough at least to try and help? ‘It will do him good to be with Alex,' she said hopefully.

‘It might at that. He certainly seems to pay attention to him. Did you wonder how Alex persuaded him to come along with us? I know I did.'

‘A little. But, surely, for your sake?'

‘You think I'm still to expect a proposal in form? Oh well, not till Zante now, thank goodness.'

She was wrong. They had arranged to lie-to at night for fear of losing each other, and as soon as the two ships were lying quietly as close together as was safe, Peter had himself rowed across to the
Helena
with an invitation. Alex wanted them all to dine with him on the
Philip
next night.

Brett was doubtful, Phyllida and Jenny exchanged speaking glances. Peter, predictably, blew up. ‘You do understand, I suppose, what a sacrifice Alex is making for you? He'll never tell you himself, he's too proud; but it was almost at the expense of honour that he withdrew, at this crisis, from the depleted Greek navy.'

‘Yes. I'd thought of that. I suppose it would seem ungracious.' Brett still sounded doubtful.

‘Ungracious! It would be barbarous! Besides, there's something else. Might I ask for a word with you alone, sir?'

‘Alone?' Brett raised an eyebrow. ‘It will have to be on deck then.' He turned to lead the way.

Jenny's eyes met Phyllida's. ‘Oh dear,' she said.

Brett returned by himself ten minutes later. ‘I've told him we'll go tomorrow night. If it's calm. I think it's the least we can do, in the circumstances. Besides—' He met one enquiring glance after another. ‘No use beating about the bush, I suppose. I didn't know you'd made a conquest of him, Jenny. He has asked my permission to make you an offer.'

‘Oh dear,' said Jenny again.

‘Thank goodness!' Brett did not try to hide his relief. ‘Just the same, I think you must give him his answer, kitten, and the sooner it's over with, the better. So—I said we'd go. No doubt he and Alex will arrange an opportunity between them. No use letting him hope a moment longer than necessary. Well,' he was glad to have it over, ‘that's settled then. We three will go.' Aunt Cassandra's refusal had been a foregone conclusion. ‘And now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll say good night. I promised
Barlow I'd take the first watch on deck. He's had a hard day of it, and Brown too, and we're a bit nearer Nauplia still than I altogether like.'

‘Brett!' Phyllida flung her scruples to the winds and followed him up the companion-way. ‘I don't like it.'

The moon had risen, turning the still water round the ship to liquid lead, and casting strange shadows of paddle-wheel and mast across the deck. In its light, the lantern, up forward where Barlow was on watch, looked pitiful, a flickering pretence at illumination.

‘Don't like what?' Brett turned, impatiently, to face her in the shadow of the hatchway. Incredible how long it was since they had been alone together.

‘This dinner … this proposal of Peter's … Any of it. Can't we make an excuse, beg off, wait till Zante?'

‘Why?' He wanted this over as fast as possible.

‘I don't know. I'm—frightened. It's absurd, I know. But I am, just the same.'

‘It
is
absurd. You ought to know Jenny well enough by now to be sure that that brother of yours is never going to talk her round. She's got a lot of sense, my Jenny.'

‘Of course she has.' Angrily. Must he remind her how she had let Alex ‘talk her round'? ‘That's not what I meant at all. It's—' She hated to say it. ‘It's Peter I'm afraid of. What he'll do if she refuses him.'

‘
When
she refuses him,' he corrected her. ‘He's been taking things for granted a bit, hasn't he? I can't say I altogether liked his tone when he asked my permission. A sharp setdown is what he needs, and that's what he's going to get from Jenny. About time too. Frankly, I was never more glad of anything than when Alex invited him on board the
Philip
.'

‘I'm sorry we've been such a burden on you.'

‘Nothing of the kind. I'm delighted to have you and your aunt, and you know it. It's made all the difference to poor Jenny. God knows what I shall do about her when we part at Zante.'

‘I'm sure you'll manage admirably.' She spoke more sharply than she meant in an effort to conceal her dismay at the idea of that parting. ‘You Renshaws always fall on your feet.'

‘Always? I wonder. But, thank God, Jenny at least seems to know her own mind. And now, if you'll excuse me. I ought not
to keep poor Barlow from his bed any longer.'

‘But, Brett—' How could she put it? ‘I really am frightened of what Peter might do.' As he turned to move away, she came after him, out from the shadow of the hatchway into full moonlight, the pale oval of her face turned up towards him, pleadingly.

He was quite mad. More than anything in the world he wanted to take her in his arms, to comfort her, to promise—All kinds of absurdities. Only the other day she had engaged herself to Alex. Women were all the same. Helena … Phyllida … Not Jenny, thank God. ‘Nonsense!' The word, the angry tone were as much for himself as for her, but she drew back as if he had struck her. ‘It's not like you to let your nerves run away with you,' he went on more gently. ‘But we're all tired out. Sleep on it. You'll see, in the morning, that you've been making much ado about nothing. Jenny will give your brother his dismissal, and the air will be the clearer for it. After that, we'll keep as much to ourselves as you like. I know it's awkward for you to meet Alex—'

‘It's not that.' Furiously. And then, giving up, and turning away into the shadows. ‘I'm sorry. I won't keep you any longer. Good night.' She got away from him before the tears submerged her, and waited, trying to swallow them, on the companionway.

Returning at last to the saloon, she found Jenny alone. ‘Aunt Cass has gone to bed. What's the matter, love? Been quarrelling with poor old B?'

‘Not precisely. He doesn't think I'm worth quarrelling with. I was trying to persuade him we ought not to go tomorrow. He won't listen. He thinks I'm “letting my nerves run away with me”.' She quoted it angrily. ‘But, Jenny, I'm worried. If we must go; if Peter does propose to you—and I suppose he's bound to—don't you think you could hold out some kind of hope … just till Zante … say you need more time…' She dwindled into silence.

‘No, love, I can't.' Jenny had never sounded more like her brother. ‘And it's not like you to suggest it. After all, Peter can't eat me. If you ask me, he's been riding for a fall, and, frankly, I find I quite look forward to giving it him.'

‘Oh, Jenny—' This was worse and worse.

‘You really are over-wrought, Phyl.' Jenny might have been
ten years the senior. ‘Wait a moment, while I find you my sal volatile.'

‘I don't want sal volatile! Jenny, listen to me!'

‘In the morning, love. It's late, and we're all exhausted. We'll be keeping poor Aunt Cass awake. Sleep on it.' She echoed her brother. ‘I promise you, it will all seem mere moonshine in the morning.'

Phyllida sighed, and yielded, and let herself be fussed over and dosed with detestable sal volatile and finally sent to bed like an hysterical child. They were so confident, those Renshaws. Once they had an idea in their heads, there was no shaking them.

Jenny might send her to bed, but she could not make her sleep. She lay for what seemed hours, watching a narrow streak of moonlight creep across the wall of the cabin, listening to Cassandra's steady breathing and wondering how in the world she could prevent tomorrow's party.

She could not. Next day was August at its best, a golden calm over sea and land, sunshine turning the sea to saffron and the mountains of the mainland to a celestial vision from the illustrated
Pilgrim's Progress
she had read to Peter as a child. Sitting on deck, hands listlessly in her lap, she let the golden prospect soothe her. Of course Brett and Jenny were right. Peter was her brother. She had known and loved him all her life. It was absurd, it was wicked nonsense to be afraid of what he might do when Jenny refused him.

In the dead calm, the
Philip's
sails hung lifeless from her masts, and they made no headway at all until a light breeze sprang up towards evening. Phyllida's hopes rose with the wind. They could not possibly make the difficult transit to the
Philip
if it held. But it was no use, as the sun set it fell again and the sea lay still as molten glass. ‘As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean—' she remembered the lines from that strange poem by Mr. Coleridge and felt a little, superstitious shiver run through her as she remembered the fate of that ship's crew.