Georgios comes to my side.

"Let's take her out to sea, Captain."

He shouts the order for the rowing to begin. The boat lurches forward in small intervals at first, then gradually smoothes out into a longer, lingering pattern moving across the water.

"I am concerned about the weather ahead, Lady Admiral," Georgios states after we have stood in silence for quite sometime, side by side, surveying the water.

He sounds as if he is speaking more figuratively regarding the situation between us, but I know he means the actual weather.

"I think we can avoid the storm. According to the first mate, after speaking with others who have come into the port from the south, the storm is moving to the northeast in our direction. If we sail more west, then south, we should be able to avoid the worst of it."

"A sensible course," Georgios agrees. "To Crete!"

"To Crete."

Our eyes have not met this entire time. He walks off to tend to the crews' orders without so much as a glance in my direction.