captain and first mate’s energetic ballet, loosening this line and fastening that one; when Jason began pulling the main halyard hand over hand, he went nearly airborne between hauls. A huge, rust-colored sail glided up the mast, flapping and cracking in the freshening breeze. The boom swished over the cockpit. Everything on the boat was in clanging motion, and then the sails filled with a loud pop. The boat shuddered and swung toward St. Kitts. Liz took the wheel and switched off the engine, and there was no sound but the waves slapping the hull and the wind thrumming in the rigging. The yacht heeled slightly, leapt forward, and began slicing toward Basseterre.
They sailed to the southeast peninsula of St. Kitts, arid and uninhabited, and into a deserted cove, where Liz and Jason set the anchor and dropped the mainsail.
Salustrio pulled Els onto the stern deck. “Last one in is a puss,” he said, and tossed his cigar butt overboard. “Hold the pickle.” He grinned. “Maybe you’re too much of a Brit to get my meaning.”
“Nobody—Brit, Scot, or Yank—could miss it,” Els said.
He struggled out of his polo shirt. Tanned flesh pooled above the waistband of his swim trunks.
While he unsnapped a section of lifeline and lowered the swimming ladder, she peered into the water. Near the beach, it was as aquamarine as any swimming pool, but at their anchorage it was a dark teal, its floor littered with brown humps that were hairy with seaweed. Driven by some unseen predator, a school of silversides broke the surface, their splashing like coins rattling. A strange pressure began to build around her heart.
“I’ll pass,” she said, and took a step backwards.
“I bet you’ve got a teensy little bikini under there just begging to get wet,” Salustrio said. “If you can’t swim, Cap stocks water wings for the kids.”
“I was my S6 champion in crawl,” she said.
“No excuse, then.” He grabbed her elbow and heaved himself over the side. She reached for a shroud but caught only air, cried out, and tumbled after him.
The surface approached in slow motion. Terror squeezed the air from her lungs. When she tried to breathe, the air couldn’t get in. There was a rushing in her ears. The sea closed over her. The water that had looked so clear from above became darker, thicker, as she descended. She tasted salt. Her trousers tangled around her legs and kicking only bound them tighter. It took all her strength to right herself and aim for the sunlight dancing on the surface, impossibly far away. Her lungs burning, she forced her leaden arms to pull for the dapples, and when she finally broke into the air, she inhaled water and began to cough and thrash.
She felt the concussion of someone entering the sea. A wave smacked her face. The captain surfaced next to her, pinned her to his chest, and stroked to the ladder. He placed her hand on the ladder rail and covered it with his own. “You’re okay,” he said. She felt his voice was coming from a great distance, though he was gripping the back of her shirt and speaking into her ear. “Listen to me. You’re safe. Breathe. That’s it. Breathe.” He murmured reassurances until her panting subsided. When it did, he lifted her foot onto the bottom rung.
She managed to pull herself up, though she was shaking so hard she had to hug the sun-warmed metal after each step.
When she finally hauled herself onto the deck, she knelt and clung to a lifeline.
Salustrio, floating near the foot of the ladder, looked up. “The champ’s a little out of practice.” He rolled over and pawed toward the stern.
Liz climbed onto the deck and raked back his hair. His sunglasses dangled from their Croakies; there was a flicker of annoyance in his expression. He settled her on a banquette and draped a towel around her, and she drew it close, breathing through its folds and fighting to control her shaking.
“Breathe in while I count to ten,” he said. “And out on ten.”
She managed two breaths; the third caught in a sob.
Liz sat across from her and let her cry herself out, continually reminding her to breathe, while Salustrio splashed about below the stern. She was relieved he wasn’t seeing her so undone.
“What’s happening to me?” she choked out.
Liz crossed the cockpit and sat next to her. “Have you ever had a panic attack before?”
She shook her head, unwilling to trust her voice.
“You said you’re a good