Free Sunrise on the Mediterranean by Suzanne Frank

knew
     he had the capacity to tell the future, or at least converse with the One God, she would probably kill him.
    The thought of RaEm being able to see the future was terrifying. How would she manipulate that knowledge for herself? … It
     was a thought he daren’t contemplate.
    He rolled onto his side. It was nearly dusk of the sixth day. The fishing had worked for three days, but these past three
     there had been nothing. Nothing, save RaEm’s derisive nagging and distorted perspective.
    Finally Cheftu had snapped at her. She had screamed obscenities at him, then sat facing the water for the rest of the day.
     Actually it had been quite pleasant, drifting in and out of sleep in silence.
    Had that been yesterday or the day before? He couldn’t recall, couldn’t fathom any time other than the one they were in. He
     had stared at the horizon for so long that his eyeballs were imprinted with the image; morning, noon, or dusk, it didn’t matter.
     Once again he was staring across the water, but wait! Was that a shadow? Slowly he sat up and watched the shadow gain substance.
     It was getting darker, but he was certain it was a ship! How could they get its attention?
    What was it doing here?
    All night long Cheftu watched that spot, praying that he hadn’t hallucinated, praying it would be there with the dawn. When
     light fell across his face he woke with a jolt, staring out across the waters. No ship. The disappointment was so sharp he
     could taste it. They would die soon of thirst while surrounded by water. Maybe he should use the stones; what would it matter
     now? He looked over his shoulder, just in case he’d gotten confused about the direction.
    The ship was bearing down on them! They were rescued. It was a miracle! “RaEm, look! Look!”
    She sat up, rubbing her eyes. “Do they see us?”
    “They must,” Cheftu said. “They are coming our direction.” He looked at the vessel, trying to place when they were. The sail
     was not Egyptian style, yet it displayed an Egyptian design on the topsail. “What is that symbol?” he asked.
    “The disk with the hands?” RaEm said, squinting up at the cloth swollen tight with wind. “Is it a hieroglyph?”
    “Nay, I think not.”
    The ship was still heading straight for them, but it was not losing speed. In fact, it was gaining momentum, using both sails
     and oars. “Are you sure they see us?” RaEm asked. They were both standing, hope having given them strength.
    It was going to crash on the islet! “They don’t,” Cheftu realized. “They don’t see us! Scream, shout, warn them.”
    Suddenly the ship veered, heading away from them, from the islet. “What in the name of Horus are they doing?” RaEm shouted,
     her hands on her hips. At the angle the ship was moving, it would completely bypass them.
    Bypass them and
leave
them. Cheftu cupped his mouth, shouting across the water. Would they hear him over the beat of the timekeeper’s drum? Again
     the oarsmen halted, the sails wilted. The ship stopped.
    RaEm and Cheftu stood, watching as the sun rose. They heard the sound of conversation, but nothing distinctive. “What are
     they doing?” RaEm asked, her voice hoarse from shouting.
    “I cannot fathom,” Cheftu said, squinting at the ship. Suddenly the oars started again, almost backing the ship up.
    “They are going to miss us!” RaEm shouted, leaping into the water and swimming toward the ship, which was now sailing away
     from them.
    Cheftu watched in horror. This was a farce! This could not be happening! Slipping his fingers into his mouth, he blew over
     them, a shrieking whistle that should be heard in Crete.
    The ship stopped. “Man overboard!” someone shouted. Cheftu sagged in relief when he saw a skiff lowered over the side, heading
     toward RaEm.
    Grâce á Dieu!
What kind of idiot had been navigating? He saw the skiff approach the islet, amazed that RaEm remembered him. As the boat
     grew larger Cheftu saw that it held three men. Two