The man slowly gained consciousness. He opened his eyes and gazed at the priest.
"What happened, my child?" asked the Father. "Are you all right, son?" he repeated.
"Anna, where is Anna?" moaned the man, bringing his hand up to the cross around his neck.
"Who is Anna, son?" queried the bewildered priest.
"My Anna, is she here?" Nikolas asked.
"Who is she?"
"I have to find her. I have to find my Anna," the man repeated desperately.
"What is your name, my son?" the priest asked, hesitating to let the weakened man stand up so quickly.
"My name is Nikolas Theophilos, officer of the Royal Greek Navy," Nikolas answered in a formal tone.
"You must have been shipwrecked, haven't you?" the priest surmised.
"Yes, I have. But right now, I must find Anna, Anna Bouras," he said as he stood up shakily. "Have you seen a young woman?" he asked.
"No, my son, I have not seen anyone else. Was there a woman with you?"
"Yes."
Nikolas looked around and started to struggle toward some large rocks. Azor led the way. Desperately, Nikolas called out Anna's name toward the sea, and then up to the sky. After they turned a bend, Azor started barking nervously and rapidly; then he suddenly stopped.
Father Gregorios arrived first where Azor was prancing wildly, his short tail stiff in the air. Nikolas followed, stepping over some of the debris that looked quite familiar to him. It was part of his raft.
Amazement and horror overtook their faces when they saw Anna's body hanging on the raft's tattered mast. She was still tied with the torn sailcloth. The mast was lodged in between two large rocks. Nikolas quickly cut the sail away from her lifeless body and signaled to the Father to help carry Anna to a sheltered part of the beach.
With hands shaking, Father Gregorios approached with his prayer rope and began to pray. He had not touched a woman's flesh in so long he was not sure how it might affect him.
"Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on me," Father Gregorios repeated over and over as he approached the body. He placed his prayer rope aside and helped Nikolas carry the limp half-clothed woman on the shaded sand.
Anna's face was ashen. The seawater had dried on her, leaving a film of white salt. Her badly torn white cotton dress clung to her body, revealing shapely feminine lines. One of her breasts was completely exposed. Dark seaweed had tangled into her blonde hair. Nikolas carefully washed Anna's face with water from Father Gregorios' canteen. Anna moved her lips slightly.