"Captain Nikolas! Captain Nikolas! Look … Look up there!" Yanni said breathlessly, with a touch of hope in his voice. His long hair, the color of wild reeds, was blowing in the wind as he stretched his tall, slender body. Pointing at the inhospitable terrain above the sea cliff as he held the ship's wheel tightly with his other hand, he shouted, "Look … Look! It looks like a small monastery or hermitage. There is a white chapel and a bell tower."
"I see, Yanni," said Nikolas, his clear deep voice anxious with emotion. "Who could have committed such a great sin to be exiled in so desolate a place as this," he murmured under his graying mustache. "Impossible! No, no. I can't even think of it."
Nikolas lifted his heavy eyebrows and looked again. A ray of hope flashed through his turbulent mind, like a light helping to guide him out of his labyrinth of resentment, as the dark blue waters foamed with an emotion to match his own, crashing against the ship's keel. The towering rocks of the island stood like some angry Poseidon emerging from the sea.
He took the wheel and steered the vessel to a safe distance from the rocks as Yanni ran below to get the binoculars. Returning with them quickly, he hung them around Nikolas's neck. The wind whistled furiously against the ship's mast and ropes, beating them mercilessly. Nikolas grabbed the binoculars and angled them at the barren mountain terrain, combing the area for signs of life.
He saw the whitewashed chapel, the wall surrounding it, and other structures nearby. The chapel door was open. Ah! A good sign," ‟ he thought. Or, maybe just some careless ‟ pilgrim left it open." He looked again and there was no movement of any kind, except seagulls and a lonely cypress tree, prostrate against the swift wind. Disappointed, he tossed the binoculars on the wet wooden deck.
He looked up toward the dark sky and cursed the weather, genuinely concerned about the safety of his men onboard. The sun unsuccessfully tried to break through the thick, dark, fast-moving clouds. A storm was in the making.
"Yanni, here, take the wheel," said a determined Captain Nikolas, as he picked up the binoculars and brought them back to his eyes to refocus on the chapel. A slight smile appeared on his lips as he clenched his teeth, he relaxed and shouted with a triumphant voice, "Oh my God! My God! There are people up there!"
He spotted four or five women, moving gracefully like sirens, dressed in long black robes covering their entire bodies, except their faces. With their garments flowing in the wind, they stood out starkly against the whitewashed walls of the chapel. One of them stopped, gazed at the ship, and raised her arm to greet the sailors. Nikolas raised his hand in return, only afterward realizing the distance was too great for his response to be noticed. One by one, the women entered the chapel, lowering their heads to fit into the tiny door. Nikolas felt tightness in his chest. His body and mind were both in turmoil as he began pacing the wet deck.