HMS Diamond by Tom Grundner Page B

he didn’t think I was that good of a trainer."
           "Now there’s a comforting thought," said Susan tartly. "These waters are so thick with corsairs they hold conventions out here and we have eight 6-pound pop guns with no powder."
           "We’ll be all right," replied Smith. "We’ll be able to out sail just about anything afloat, as soon as we figure out how to use the sails."
           "Oh, I feel so much better. Thank you for telling me that."
     
    ***
     
           The Mediterranean is one of the few seas in the world where each wind has its own name. The east wind that whistles through the Straits of Gibraltar is called a "levanter." It’s usually light and brings with it a hot muggy atmosphere. The same wind from the west is called a "vendavale" but instead of being a light gentle wind, it’s a sure sign of thunderstorms and violent squalls.
           Coming out of the north in the Gulf of Lyon is the "mistral," usually, but not always, a sign of good weather. A mistral can reach gale force and whip up a violent sea in no time at all. If you get down along the northern coast of Africa, sooner or later you are bound to run into the blast furnace of a "scirocco" coming off the desert. And if you make it up into the northern Adriatic, you could run into a "bora." With little or no warning, it can crank-up 100 knot winds that will tear the masts right out of your ship if you can’t get the sails off her in time.
           The Swallow was lucky, however. She was sailing along with a nice "Meltemi" wind coming out of the northeast. The wind, which has its origins in the mountains north of Greece, brings with it a refreshing coolness that dispels the brutal heat of the Levant summer.
           Several days later, Walker was standing at the larboard rail looking out at the crisp blue of the Mediterranean when Susan came up from behind and joined him.
           "What are you thinking?" She asked.
           "Nothing really," Walker replied, then paused. "Actually, that’s not true. I was thinking about home."
           "What about it?"
           "I don’t know. Where is it, for starters? Am I an American or not? What are my friends and family doing back in the states right now? Pleasant stuff like that."
           "Well, you know what I’ve always told you. There are..."
           "I know. There are things you can do something about and other things you can’t. This is one of the things you can’t, so make the best of it."
           Neither said anything for a while; they just stared at the penetrating blue of the Mediterranean water and listened to the sounds of the ship working. Finally Susan spoke up. "I’ve been doing some thinking, too."
           "About what?"
           "Do you remember that old monk we met in Ephesus, the one with the birth mark on the side of his face?"
           "Yeah, the crazy old man? Now, that’s a good question. I wonder what he’s doing now. Probably defrauding some group of tourists for his next meal."
           "He didn’t defraud us out of anything."
           "He didn’t have time; but I am sure he would have."
           "I am not so sure at all."
           The two remained quiet for a while, then Susan again broke the silence.
           "Do you remember how he kept saying his name was John?"
           "A lot of people are named John."
           "Do you remember when he asked you if you believed in God’s hand? And do you remember how he gave his name just before we left?
           "Yes. He suddenly became John two thousand and something. What about it?"
           "That’s not what he said. He said he was John twenty-one, twenty."
           "So what?"
           "Those numbers. I thought maybe they might be a Bible verse, so I looked it up: John 21:20. Let me tell you what it says."
           Susan produced a small, very rare and expensive New Testament