Smoky Blue Literary and Arts Magazine #6

“What happened?” Peter said, swept by a shattering wave of concern. “Did they pull her out?”

“Don’t know. Ship came to the pier. Purser said some crew members went back on a Japanese pilot boat, whatever that is, to look for her.”

Peter’s chest constricted. The woman might be right. It could have been Maria. She had surely been depressed, frightened of the German. Could Peter have done more to help her? To reassure her? He felt nauseous. He had to know. His missionary upbringing asserted itself. Dear, God, don’t let it be Maria.

The line of passengers crawled forward, the pace maddeningly slow.

Frustration come to life, Peter dropped his bags and elbowed his way through the crowd of complaining passengers. As he came on deck squadrons of caterwauling gulls banked and glided above the pier, and the more brazen of them strutted among the disembarking passengers’ feet. Light rain had dampened the ship’s arrival, and the sun had just begun to poke through the last tendrils of morning mist.

Breaking free of the crowd at the quarterdeck, he approached a steward. “I understand a young woman fell from the ship.” A burst of anxiety shaped his questions. “Has she been found? Identified?”

“Don’t know, sir. Search was still going on when I came on deck. I heard she was blonde. Somebody said German. Who knows?”

Peter’s voice caught. “Where can I get more information?” Maria. Poor troubled Maria.

“The Purser’s over there on the quarterdeck. I expect he can help you, sir.”

Peter shoved through a knot of irritated passengers. The Purser, a lanky fellow who took his role and himself very seriously, was engaged in a heated discussion with a tourist couple about their Pekinese that had gone missing.

The Purser ignored Peter’s effort to gain his attention.

A dog? Peter was racked by agitation and indignation. A damned dog? Peter’s concern was for a human being. He caught the Purser by the arm and spun him around.

“I need to know about the person who was lost overboard. I want to . . .”

At that point Peter’s eyes fell on the pier and he felt his heart depart. First he saw Federoff, and then he spotted Maria. Thank God, she had not been the one. But