YANNIS (Cretan Saga Book 1) by Beryl Darby Read Free Book Online Page A

quay. Now, let me get those sails up and we’ll get going.’
    It soon became routine to Yannis to go with Yiorgo on some of his night fishing trips. Gradually he became accustomed to the night sounds and was able to perform his duties on the boat by touch. Yannis yawned surreptitiously. He had been out the previous night with his uncle and felt decidedly sleepy in the hot classroom. Mr Pavlakis was explaining an exercise to them and he was finding it very hard to keep his eyes open and concentrate.
    When he left the classroom, Yannis was surprised to find a strong wind blowing and clutched his books tightly. As the children left the shelter of the buildings the full force hit them and they bent their heads as sand and dust swirled around, stinging their faces and making their eyes water.
    ‘I hope Pappa isn’t out in this,’ observed Annita.
    The wind, coming across from Africa, was the dread of both fishermen and farmers. Boats would be overturned in the harbour, nets torn to shreds, or crops of olives and grapes shaken from their precarious hold on the branches and complete harvests ruined. When they reached the quay they could see that Yiorgo’s boat, along with the others was moored, the fishermen talking disconsolately in groups, looking at the horizon, trying to calculate the severity of the storm.
    ‘It will blow itself out by morning,’ declared Yiorgo. ‘I might as well come home with you children. There’s nothing I can do here.’
    The wind howled around the little house, rattling the shutters and sending debris along the street. Tired as he was, Yannis found it difficult to ignore the sound of the waves crashing against the rocky shore and he shivered involuntarily at the thought of being at sea. He fell into a deep sleep shortly before dawn and the next thing he knew Andreas was shaking him vigorously.
    ‘Come on, lazy. Pappa wants us to help him with the nets.’
    Yannis rubbed his eyes. Was it really morning? He pulled on a shirt and trousers and hurried downstairs after Andreas. The sea was unbelievably calm and it was strangely quiet now the wind was no longer blowing. The little harbour was almost empty as the fishermen tried to make up for the lost fishing hours.
    Yannis and Andreas worked hard all morning, taking it in turns to hold the nets whilst the other mended. Yiorgo washed the deck, greased the rowlocks and checked the ropes to the sails, finally declaring himself satisfied. Annita arrived, waving to her father and sitting down on a coil of rope.
    ‘I’ve been talking to Mr Pavlakis,’ she announced, looking at Yannis.
    ‘Where did you see him?’
    ‘In the square. He said he was on his way to work, but there’s no school today.’
    Yannis smiled. ‘He works in a taverna in his spare time, then saves the money so he can travel abroad during the school holidays.’
    Annita sniffed. ‘Fancy working in a taverna when you’re a teacher.’
    ‘What does it matter where you work if you make enough money to do something you want? He probably enjoys it anyway.’
    Annita began to giggle. ‘I wonder if he tells his customers not to talk?’
    Andreas and Yannis laughed with her, and Andreas began to walk between them, pretending to carry a tray.
    ‘Yes, sir,’ he mimicked. ‘What can I get for you? A coffee? Thank you, sir. Anything to eat, sir? Baklava? Certainly, sir. Now don’t talk and I’ll go and fetch it.’ Andreas flicked back an imaginary piece of hair from his forehead and wiped his hand down his trousers. The two children watching him laughed uproariously and Yiorgo turned round.
    ‘What’s so funny?’
    Yannis wiped his eyes. ‘It was Andreas, pretending to be Mr Pavlakis.’
    Yiorgo smiled. He doubted if he would understand. It was probably some school joke. He had met Mr Pavlakis once and thought him an annoying young man with his habit of pushing back his hair.
    Yannis turned to Annita. ‘He told me he was going to Rome in the summer holidays.’
    ‘Rome?’ Her