It was hours later. At Pat's suggestion I had gone below for a rest and then had relieved her while she did the same. We wanted to get well away from the big city and the ocean traffic before we stopped. About two o'clock she wandered up from below. The moon was high now and in the clean cool light we were close to shore. Here the coast was deserted and, as we skirted a rocky point, a small cove appeared, the entrance barely large enough for the yacht. The moon, going over to the west, shot its light through the gap to show a sandy beach dimly outlined at the farther side. "John, let's look in there. It seems a likely place to stop." I cut the motor and glided through the entrance, trusting the smooth unbroken surface to cover enough depth for the boat. The million pinpoint lights of our phosphorescent track died away as we slowed. The bowsprit almost overhung the sloping beach when I dropped anchor. "Plenty of depth here," I said quietly, reluctant to break the silence. "It should be a good spot to spend the night." Sheltered by the northern arm of the cove, the remains of an old cabin hugged the rising slope. In front of it, in the little clearing, a few old fruit trees, branches broken with age, spotted the grass. The small stream that probably had tempted this early settler ran at one side of the cleared land, the water spreading out to glitter over the stones and sand of the beach before losing itself in the dark salty bay. "What a wonderful place for a swim," Pat whispered, her eyes enormous in her shadowed face. The air was still warm, with enough breeze to discourage any mosquitoes. Quickly Pat stripped and stood there proudly, waiting for me. To keep her hair dry she had put on a white bathing cap and, in that pale light, she shone like some strange shaven statue from an old Egyptian tomb. She moved and the illusion disappeared. Naked, I reached for her and pulled her close. For a moment she clung to me and then, teasingly, she pushed me away and dived over the side. The water was cold and the chill of it on my skin soon relieved the tension the sight of her body had aroused in me. For a while we swam and splashed in the shallows, then I loaded the dinghy with towels and blankets, threw in a flask of rum with some cokes to dilute it and we went ashore. Her hand in mine, we walked around the tiny cove, the sand coming up pleasantly between our toes and the cool salty water sparkling on our skins. I brushed it out of my hair and Pat shivered as the fine spray hit her bare skin. "Better get warmed up," I said, and led her back to the clearing. There, from a deep pool dug in the stream by that early settler, I poured fresh water over her and rubbed vigorously with my hands to get off the salt and warm her up. The throbbing aching torment of my desire returned. She moved closer, her tongue wet on my lips.