The Med by David Poyer Read Free Book Online Page A

something, and he lagged behind as she roamed through the high town.
    In the afternoon they became suddenly purposeful, and went sightseeing. Susan dragged him around San Pancrazio, telling him the walls dated from the third century B.C.; the Greek theater; the Naumachia, which reminded him of a model-towing tank. He trailed along with his jacket slung over his shoulder, sweat soaking his shirt, and took pictures. He wanted to put together, at the end of this cruise, an album of all the ports Comphibron Six had visited, along with a few paragraphs of description in his own and Susan’s hands. He imagined that someday, when they were old, they would look through it together. At four the sun grew too much for them, and they went back to the hotel and took a shower together and made love again and then napped.
    When they woke they had a short but surprisingly bitter argument over where to go for dinner. He wanted to try the hotel dining room. She was sick of it and wanted to go out. In the end they compromised. Dinner at the hotel, and the night out in Giardini, at the base of the hill.
    They found a noisy knot of the bachelor officers at the Hotel Naxos bar. He ordered gin and tonics. That was the only drink Susan really liked. The bachelors welcomed them, but Dan felt the conversation become awkward. Once you were married, in the Service, you moved out of their circle and into that of the married officers. After one drink he nudged her and they went out into the night again. They found a bench at the seawall, overlooking the water. It was cool, welcome after the heat of the day, and the wind came in sweet and heavy off the sea, smelling of salt and faraway storm.
    â€œYou didn’t like them?”
    â€œThey were all right. Just … I’d rather be with you.”
    â€œYou’re sweet,” she said, looking away toward the sea, and his eyes followed hers, out into the dark.
    Dark, but blazing and twinkling with lights. The evening was clear. Across the Strait of Messina, only twenty miles wide here at the meeting of Italy and Sicily, Reggio and Pellaro and Porto Salvo glowed like heaps of fallen fireflies. He made out four ships, moving slowly against the fixed lamps of the far shore; a green sidelight, red; two bound south, two north. The traffic would get even thicker as they neared the neck of the strait, a few miles north. He remembered taking the squadron through there a few weeks before. It had been a hairy evolution.
    Closer in, swinging a mile or so out beyond the breakwater, Guam had dressed ship. The electricians had been climbing about when he left the night before, and now the ship was a pyramid of lights. They stretched white from bow to truck, truck to stern, and multicolored lamps glittered along the edge of the helo deck. It was beautiful to see, a twinkling palace suspended in the darkness; beautiful to see.…
    â€œWhat’s the matter?” she whispered, leaning on his arm.
    â€œNothing.”
    â€œYes there is. You’re quiet. When you get quiet … come on, talk to me. Is it the Ryan? Is that still bothering you?”
    â€œNo. I mean, it still bothers me, yes. But that’s not all of it.”
    â€œIs it this ship? Is it old Crazy Ike?”
    â€œYeah,” he said, his voice so soft she could hardly hear it above the sigh of wind.
    â€œHe’s giving you a rough time?”
    â€œNot me, so much … I think he likes me. Red was his fair-haired boy on the way across, but now—”
    â€œRed? Which one is he?”
    â€œThe chubby guy—he was the one juggling apples at Stan’s party.”
    â€œOh, him. Lieutenant Flasher, right? He’s so silly! I liked him.”
    â€œAnyway, all of a sudden Sundstrom turned against him. I have no idea why, but since then I’ve moved up to favorite.”
    â€œThat can’t be so bad. Isn’t that what you wanted? Isn’t that why you volunteered for sea duty again,