The dissapointment that he felt was that they were still a half day from Basra.
He shook off the dream, but could not get the image of her in crimson out of his head. By the gods, she looked radiant! He finished his morning ablations, and stepped outside to the deck.
The sun was bright and clear, not a stormcloud in sight. The piercing blue of the sky was gently broken up by high fluffy clouds, the kind for sky gazing, not rain. Sinbad relieved the night crewman on the tiller, and began to watch the clouds.
"Daydreaming he is...I'll be he doesn't even notice us yet," a booming voice came from beside him, startling him out of the reverie he was in.
"Doubar, your turn for the tiller already?"
"Aye, we're coming near Basra's port, and.."
"And I'm needed to captain, not steer," Sinbad finished, handing the tiller to Doubar.
Sinbad set about his command, as swift and as sure as he ever was, but with something in his stomach. Butterflies, he realized. Nerves.
"Why am I suddenly nervous as a schoolboy? What is it about that woman that gets me this way," he thougth to himself while he went to meet the harbormaster, and officially return to Basra.
The crew noticed the captain was not really acting himself. Bryn and Maeve took it upon themselves to follow Sinbad to keep him out of trouble.