The Lost Sailors Read Free

sleep with them, would we? Let me tell you something. There are thousands of women more beautiful than Cephea, I know that. I’ve met them in every port in the world . . . But she . . . she had something in her eyes that was just for me. That’s love. And that’s what I realized when she opened the door that day. Maybe she remembered how I’d held her in my arms when she was born. My hands on her little ass . . .”
    Abdul was a bit drunk, and Diamantis was lost in thought. His memories were coming to the surface, like something coming to the surface of a pond that has been stagnant for too long. It didn’t feel all that good. He’d have liked to drive these memories out of his head. He knew that behind Melina, another face loomed. The face of a girl, eighteen years old. He had loved her madly and had left her—abandoned her—without even saying goodbye.
    It had happened twenty years ago. In Marseilles. He had never tried to find her again any of the times he had put in here, had never tried to find out what had become of her. Not even in all the time they’d been stuck here. He missed her terribly at that moment. Amina. Her face was in his head, and it was too late now to blot it out. He knew what he was going to spend his time doing from now on. He was going to find her. As if by doing that he could finally straighten his life out.
    â€œHow about another one?” Abdul asked, pointing to the empty bottle.
    Diamantis didn’t need to be asked twice. Wine is for remembering, not forgetting.

2.
AT NIGHT, THE WORLD ABANDONS US
    A bdul was watching Diamantis through the porthole of his cabin. “Where on earth’s he going so early?” he wondered. Diamantis hadn’t taken the one remaining bicycle, and that intrigued Abdul.
    It was the first time, since they’d been stuck here in Marseilles, that Abdul had wondered about Diamantis’s life on land. He would often leave in the morning, by bicycle, and come back two or three hours later. Sometimes, he was away the whole day, and when he did that, he would go on foot. Like today. But he always did it with Abdul’s full agreement. And never shirked the tasks that needed to be done on the ship. Diamantis, he had to admit, was no slouch when it came to work. On the contrary. One afternoon, he had even joined the crew to tackle the rust that was spreading through the ship. At the end of the day, Abdul had commented to him, somewhat curtly, that a first mate was out of place doing that kind of thing. Diamantis had replied that rust was out of place on a freighter. Abdul had smiled.
    â€œI know. It was just to give the men something to do. I don’t want them to go crazy doing nothing. They’re starting to quarrel among themselves. Especially the two Burmese with the rest of the crew. I don’t know if you know this, but the
Aldebaran
had been on the scrap heap for two years when I took her over. So, however hard you scrape away at it, you’re not going to get rid of the rust.”
    â€œWell, I’m like them, Abdul. I feel like hitting out. It might as well be at a heap of old iron. And I’ll tell you something. I feel better. So do the men. We got our heads and arms covered in rust, but at least we felt like sailors again.”
    That was the night they’d started talking to each other.
    Since then, nothing had been the same. Abdul had become aware of hidden depths in his not very talkative first mate. In a way, he’d always known they were there, but he’d only just started to realize it. Diamantis could have been his friend long before this. He could have confided in him, asked his advice. And maybe things would have been different. Maybe he’d still have been the proud Captain Aziz, and not the pathetic commander of this shitty old tub. “The real questions,” he told himself, “are the ones you only ask yourself later. When you’ve already screwed up your