Free The 22 Letters by Richard; Clive; Kennedy King Page B

badly,” said Nun. “Where can we get some?”
    The soldier looked blankly at Nun, seemed to search in his mind for words in the language that was obviously difficult for him, and at last found four words: “You give me water?”
    â€œ I give you water?” Nun repeated. “What do you mean? We have come a long way, been at sea for days. How can we give you water? Have you none on your island?” He looked closely at the soldier: certainly it didn’t look as if he had washed recently. The soldier shrugged and looked away.
    â€œThey don’t seem very glad to see us,” said Nun to the Chaldean who was standing patiently on the poop. “Come ashore, sir, and we’ll see if we can get some sense out of this island.”
    He held out his hand to the Chaldean to help him over the ship’s side. The soldiers looked with some show of curiosity at the outlandish dress of the stranger as he stood poised on the wooden bulwark. And as the Chaldean’s foot touched the stone of the harbor a hollow rumble seemed to come from the very core of the island and the ground trembled until the stacked wine jars rang one against the other. Nun felt a sudden chill of terror all over his body in the hot afternoon. The sailors who stood by the ropes fell weakly to their knees muttering incantations, the Chaldean stood in thought with a stern set face, and the island soldiers behaved as if nothing had happened.
    â€œOur welcome has been spoken,” said the Chaldean at last.
    At that point there was the sound of a disturbance at the landward end of the jetty: voices and footsteps seemed to be approaching. Nun looked round, thinking perhaps it was someone in authority, and wondering weakly what was the next surprise this strange island would produce.
    The surprise was a little middle-aged man in a rather grubby civilian robe, chattering to his military escort in the Cretan tongue and helping his short steps through the dust of the harbor with a walking stick. The soldiers stood out of his way without much show of respect, and he came up to where Nun and the Chaldean were standing. Taking one look at Nun, the ship, and the sailors, he switched immediately into the Phoenician language without pausing for breath.
    â€œHave you been waiting? So sorry! You must excuse us,” he burst out. “So unexpected so early in the afternoon—you know our wretched siesta habit. Or perhaps you don’t.” Then turning to glance at the ship: “From the Phoenician coast, aren’t you? I’ve seen your ships in Crete, of course, although you don’t often call at Thira. But you’re very welcome. In fact, you’re here not at all too soon. Things are bad.” He eyed the cargo of cedar beams under its hide covering with some puzzlement: “How much have you got?”
    Nun hesitated. “I—I’m afraid we’re not here to trade,” he said.
    â€œTrade?” repeated the little man sharply. “Oh, of course, no haggling. We pay the price. But how much water have you? Where’s it stowed?”
    â€œWater?” said Nun. “We’ve about enough for our crew for half a day, if they’re rowing. I’d be obliged if you’d tell me where we can replenish.”
    The man stopped talking for a good half minute and looked amazed at Nun. “You’re asking us for water? But they know the situation perfectly well in Amnisos. All ships calling from there are obliged to bring us water.” His face attempted a smile. “You are pulling my leg, Captain. But it is not kind of you.”
    Nun was beginning to understand. “I’m very sorry; sir,” he said. “A misunderstanding. We’re not from Amnisos. We sailed straight from Gebal without touching land. If we’d known there was a water shortage here, of course we would have brought some. But all we have, I’m afraid, is a cargo of timber for Knossos. We called