The surgeon took his pulse and smiled at me. ‘That did it. Well done, nurse.’

Some distance away, I saw the Captain helped from the raft into a lifeboat, then he boomed orders through a megaphone. We were too far away to make out his instructions. On the horizon, the grey shapes of two battleships approached. Not knowing if they were friend or foe, we were all relieved when a small, brightly painted caïque came alongside with a rounded but rustic skipper at the prow and a younger man at the tiller.

I stared at the old fisherman. His loose, tanned skin folded over the bones of his face like warm toffee. Thick, wind-dried lips smiled from below a hedge of silver moustache. His teeth were mismatched, and tobacco-stained, and his elbows stuck through holes in his dishevelled jumper. When he beamed reassuringly, deep crow’s feet around his eyes concertinaed like a brown paper fan.

Clearly pleased to rescue our lifeboat, the man boomed words in Greek that nobody understood, yet they were comforting as my mother’s hug after a nightmare. He poked himself in the chest with his thumb. ‘Yianni! Yianni!’ Pointing at the younger sailor at the stern, he yelled, ‘Manno! Manno!’

The powerful little fishing boat fixed a line and tugged our vessel to a natural harbour on Kea, just over a mile away. However, due to the strong current and overladen boat, it took us two hours to cover the short distance to safety.

We soon learned the fishermen were father and son. They helped everyone onto the quayside. Stretchers were brought for Corporal Perkins and Josephine, who had regained consciousness and refused to be treated like an invalid. Manno reached out and took my hands – his big brown eyes comforting, yet at the same time, mischievous. Under his gaze I felt safe, yet flustered. The moment I stood on firm ground a stab of pain rose from my ankle. Everything swayed and my knees buckled. Manno swept me up against his wide chest and then set me down on an old trunk that stood against the harbour wall.

‘I’ll come back for you, koukla,’ he said. ‘Sit here.’

Relieved that he spoke English, I watched him take command of shaken men and distraught women with his steady, reassuring manner.

I had not experienced shock before. One moment I felt in control, capable of helping others – the next, my head was in my hands and I wept bitterly. Someone touched my shoulder.

‘Stiff upper lip, Miss Smith. We have to set an example,’ Matron Merriberry said.

‘Sorry, Matron.’ I sniffed hard and wiped my eyes.