“After this, I will have the right to come look at him whenever I like,” Carl said as they were recovering their breath.

  “Are you still crazy about souvenir-hunting?” Stuart asked Robbie.

  “Maybe we should’ve practiced on something smaller. How do we get him into the dinghy?”

  “One more mighty heave and he will get into the dinghy by himself.” Following Carl’s instructions, they tugged the statue down beside the dinghy so that it was partly submerged. Carl tipped the boat over on its side and Stuart and Robbie pushed and heaved and splashed each other until the statue was lying in the gunwales. They righted the boat and the statue rolled with a thud into the bottom. “I don’t think we’ll risk more passengers,” Carl said. “I would rather go home in dry clothes. You will tell Helene to look the other way.” He stripped and folded his clothes neatly on a seat. Stuart and Robbie were already too wet to care. They heaved and pulled and pushed some more until the dinghy was waterborne and they swam out with it. Helene was standing at the rail waiting for them.

  “Throw a towel down to Carl and then withdraw to a ladylike distance,” Stuart called up to her. A towel plummeted into the dinghy and she was gone.

  They shackled the statue to the pulleys used for the dinghy and climbed the ladder and manned the davit lines, Carl stark naked. They tugged and strained while the tackle creaked ominously, and slowly hoisted the precious cargo up onto the deck.

  After that, the dinghy was child’s play. They lashed it into place while Carl dried quickly and pulled on his undershorts. They knew that only half the battle was won. The narrow deck was cluttered with nautical gear. They maneuvered their treasure slowly along it, cursing every obstacle. They let it bump gently down the companionway and continued the struggle below. In the master cabin, they wrestled it upright and all fell with it into the locker where Robbie had assured them it would fit. His eye proved accurate. They padded it securely with some old blankets and pushed Stuart’s clothes in over it and closed the door. They sank back against the bulwarks, their chests heaving and sweat streaming down their bodies, exhausted but triumphant.

  “If anybody wants to take it away from us, they’re welcome to try,” Stuart said after a moment of silent recuperation.

  Carl chuckled. “I think you must buy the boat and exhibit it on board.”

  “I’ve already thought of that. Come on, youngster. We better get out of these wet clothes. We could probably all use a shower. Show Carl how everything works in the forward head but take it easy on the water. We’re strictly rationed now.”

  “If Carl doesn’t mind, we can economize by taking one together,” Robbie suggested, pleased that he could make it sound so natural. At least they would have a chance to say good-bye with their bodies. He came to vivid, sparkling life, fatigue forgotten. “Come on. I’ll run up and get your clothes.” He pushed Carl out ahead of him. Stuart was aware of the familiarity that had developed between them. The boy had definitely acquired the knack of making friends.

  “Tell your mother we expect a double tot of grog for all hands,” he called after Robbie’s retreating back. He saw the boy’s hand lift to the German’s arm and experienced a pang of jealousy. Carl was old enough to be his father but he knew how to treat Robbie like a contemporary. Was it too late to re-create their old comradeship on an adult footing? Sharing the adventure tonight was a step toward intimacy. They couldn’t steal a statue every day but there might be other opportunities for cementing a loving friendship if he remained on the lookout for them. His son was so—an unexpected word came to him—so endearing. Young, unpretentious, eager for life. He was shocked to realize that it was his first warm effortless response to him as an adult.

  Robbie snatched up Carl’s clothes from the dinghy and skipped back along the deck to the companionway. He caught sight of his mother in the unlighted cockpit. “We’re all coming up for drinks as soon as we get dry,” he called over his shoulder as he hurtled below. He burst into his cabin to find Carl just kicking off his shorts. He straightened and turned to him, naked and smiling. “You are very happy, my Robbie. I’m happy for you.”

  “Happy about the statue, not about anything else.” He tugged at his wet clinging clothes and got them off. “I know we have to be quick. Just three minutes with you. That’s all I ask.” He seized his arm and peered around the door for a quick look aft toward the saloon, then darted across to the shower, crowding Carl in with him. The tiny cubicle forced them into each other’s arms and they pressed against each other and kissed. Robbie already had an erection. He could feel Carl’s cock going through its immense, thrillingly ponderous transition. He ran the water only long enough for them to get wet. They handed the soap back and forth to each other. Robbie searched Carl’s eyes.

  “What am I going to do?” he demanded in a hushed voice. “With the others, it was mostly sex and it didn’t much matter if I never saw them again. Now it’s you and—and everything. I’m your boy.”

  “Yes. Our lives are joined. I feel it. We’ll have many plots together.” Carl’s eyes had a maddening way of turning cheerfully friendly, as they did now, just when Robbie hoped to discover depths of need in them. Perhaps he was too young for anybody to need him.

  “We’ve got to get out of here,” he admitted. He turned on the water and laughed as he felt Carl lift into full erection against him. “There’s no room for that in here.”

  He checked the corridor again and they spilled out of the shower and sprang across to the refuge of the cabin. Robbie locked the door behind them and handed Carl a towel. They stood close to each other and dried themselves quickly, their erections beating lightly against each other. Robbie memorized every detail of the superb body and watched it turn luminously golden as the friction of the towel made all the hairs stand up and catch the light. Carl tossed the towel aside and put his arms around him.

  “Let me feel you against me once more, my beautiful boy, and then we will look forward to reunion.”

  Robbie felt himself being engulfed by the great body and his mouth clung briefly to his lips. “We’ve been very quick. Nobody can suspect anything. I know how to make you come quickly. I want everything we’ve ever done together but that most of all.”

  “Yes, dear heart. You will give me one more moment of great joy.” He dropped onto the bunk and sprawled out and toyed with Robbie’s hair while he gave his body to the pleasure of his skillful mouth. His mind remained detached. He was taking stock, as a precarious lifetime had accustomed him to do. Even if the summer brought no further developments, he had acquired an asset that he could draw on indefinitely. He caressed Robbie’s hair. He had never felt so sure of anybody in his life. Helene remained an enigma though a promising one. The money for the statue figured as a small useful dividend. The fact that he had allowed himself to be more deeply touched emotionally by this boy than the rules permitted counted as a debit; it endowed his climax with a wrenching sense of separation. Time would take care of it.

  Robbie sat up and brushed his hair back from his forehead. “Thank God we could have that. I’ll save my orgasm for when we’re together again.”

  Carl swung his legs over the side of the bunk and sat beside him and held his erection. “No, no. I will expect you to have found many attractive boys by the time I get there.”

  The men joined Helene in the dark cockpit more or less simultaneously, so Robbie’s moment with Carl went unnoticed. Helene had brandy waiting for them. Stuart poured them generous drinks and they told her about their struggle, turning it into a comic epic and vying for her laughter. She tried to enter into the spirit of their fun but couldn’t conquer a feeling of having missed something. It had nothing to do with the statue; that sounded like a thoroughly tiresome chore. It was a sense of incompleteness that pierced her every time Carl’s laughter boomed out of the dark. She shouldn’t have let the conversation drop when they’d been alone yesterday. She’d assumed that there would be an opportunity to say more. It would soon be too late. In an hour, he’d be gone.

  “We better get going,” Stuart said, confirming her thought. “It’ll be about eleven by the time we pick up our crew. With luck, we should be out of Greek waters by tomorrow night.”

  Outside the shelter of the bay, the sea was still heavy; the wind hadn’t dropped at nightfall as it usually did. They were in for a blow. In the dark, Carl’s hand strayed comfortingly over Robbie’s shoulders and back. Stuart pulled the wheel over to round the last bluff and headed in toward the pier. The crew was loitering under a lamp waiting for them. He reduced speed.

  “Okay, Roberto. Run forward and throw them a line. We won’t tie up.”

  Robbie followed instructions. Angelino caught the line and pulled them in. Rico hugged Robbie as he jumped aboard. Beppo followed.

  Farewells were abrupt and brief. Carl took Helene’s hand with a gentle pressure and told her that he’d write. He slapped Stuart on the back and gave Robbie’s arm a final squeeze and leaped ashore.

  “Bon voyage,” he called, his hand lifted. In his white clothes, he stood out clear against the night as the boat backed away from the shores where Apollo reigned. Helene sat in the stern, her head turned from him, wondering what more she had wanted to say to him.

  The wind blew sharp and favorably from the north. Within minutes, they were scudding along under full sail through a heavily running sea. Stuart looked up at the taut sails and thought of the long days and nights ahead of them. The interesting part of the trip was over. The rest would be drudgery; he hoped Robbie wouldn’t be bored. They had made a friend and stolen a statue—and spent quite a lot of money. Carl’s projected visit and Robbie’s new social responsiveness were promises of a more populated future. Stuart was still no closer to knowing what life as a rich man was going to be like.

  Money would have more significance for Robbie than for him. When his school ended next year, he wouldn’t have to worry about a job but could devote himself to his painting. Stuart hadn’t been convinced that the boy had the discipline and strength of character for an artist’s life but he was rapidly revising his opinion. The talent was there; money would free him to make the most of it.

  When Angelino and Rico had finished careening around the deck adjusting lines and making everything shipshape, Stuart turned over the wheel to the captain. It was agreed that he and Robbie would each take a regular four-hour watch during the day; the remaining sixteen hours would be divided among the professionals. There was nothing more to discuss until they reached their destination a thousand miles across the sea.

  Stuart followed Helene below. Robbie lingered while Rico streamed the log from the stern, taken rather by surprise to realize that the sailor was once more a potential lover. He hadn’t given the boy an erotic thought in a month. Would they pick up where they’d left off? If Rico wanted to, he had no reason to object. Carl didn’t really want him to be his boy. He had yet to feel needed in a way that would match the enormous need in himself. It was his turn to use Rico as a convenience.

  The sailor dropped into the cockpit beside the helm and said a few words to Angelino and teetered across to Robbie and fell into the seat beside him with an arm around him. “We go now, Robbie,” he said against his face.

  Rico was taking charge of him more openly than before. So be it. If he wanted to play homosexual games, Robbie would teach him to play them more expertly. He found his friend’s hard cock and squeezed it and they made a dive for the companionway and tumbled down it. They swayed to the movement of the boat and held each other as they made their way forward to Robbie’s cabin. He knew there were no witnesses but the fact that there could be made it a special event; he was going to sleep openly with a lover on home territory.

  They stripped hastily and made a rush for the stability of the bunk. As soon as they were in each other’s arms, Robbie asserted himself. He forestalled Rico’s usual immediate move to take him by performing some sophisticated tricks with his mouth. To his surprise, his partner seemed willing to indulge Robbie’s taste for more leisurely lovemaking. Perhaps Rico felt the difference in him and found him more desirable now that he was experienced in offering and taking pleasure. They looked at each other and laughed softly to welcome each other back. Their mouths met and Robbie turned it into their first real kiss. Rico responded eagerly but suddenly broke it off with a little exclamation of displeasure.

  “Men don’t kiss, Robbie,” he admonished him.

  “Why not? With your eyes closed you wouldn’t know my mouth isn’t a girl’s. Stop thinking of me as a man. I’m queer. What you said. Comme ça. You know that. I wasn’t sure before but I know now. If you want to fuck me then do it as if I were a girl. You’ll like it more if you stop worrying about my being a boy.”

  Rico laughed. “You got one plenty big cock for a girl,” he said, stroking it.

  “It’s about time you paid attention to that.”

  “I get used to it. Boys at home, we play with cocks. I like when it get so big for me. I want you plenty sometimes last two, three weeks. Not many girls there. I sleep with you regular this trip. Hokay?”

  “Fine. Will Angelino know?”

  “Sure. He gotta know where I am. He know I fuck you.”

  “He doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with it?”

  “Why wrong? We got no girl. You let that German fella, that Carlo, you let him fuck you?”

  “Yes,” he admitted, abandoning discretion for the pleasure of speaking openly.

  “Sure. He got something you like, I bet. Bigger than Rico. You got one beautiful mouth. That’s sure.”

  “Then kiss me. I’m about to come. You’re playing with my cock as if you liked it.”

  “Sure. I don’t mind.” He ran his tongue over Robbie’s lips and his hand became more purposeful. Robbie opened his mouth to his and their kiss brought them in against each other, writhing with desire.

  Rico proved less inhibited than Robbie would have believed possible a few weeks ago, but he understood now the difference between homosexuals and boys who didn’t mind having sex together under certain circumstances. The latter had their limits but the fact that they existed made the world seem less hostile.

  The world impinged very little on any of them in the nights and days that followed. They were caught up once more in the rhythm of the sea. They ate when they were hungry, slept when they were sleepy, and got gloriously, drunkenly exhausted keeping the boat going. Stuart was vaguely aware that the two boys had worked out some sort of arrangement for sharing Robbie’s cabin and it didn’t surprise him. Boys liked to stake out their territory like young animals. Helene spent a lot of time in her bunk reading, a superfluous element in a man’s world. She was looking forward to home and finding their niche in an environment where they were still almost total strangers. When Carl arrived, she hoped to greet him as a serene and successful hostess, impregnably established in her own beautiful house.

  Their progress was marked by geographical phenomena. Everything on the charts turned up miraculously where it belonged. This was Sardinia. That was Corsica. In another day or two it would be St. Tropez. By then, their destination was just another point on the charts. Their reality was the boat and the vagaries of the weather, the daily chores and, for Robbie, the pleasures awaiting him in his bunk. They had already sighted the high dim coast of France on the horizon when Rico joined him in the cabin late one afternoon. He was lying down naked, waiting for him.

  “We get there, Robbie.” He took his clothes off and stretched out on the bunk. “Tomorrow, this time, we no see each other.”

  “Don’t talk about it. I can’t believe it.” Robbie kissed him and felt a lump gathering in his throat. His first boy. He was bound to have a special feeling for him, particularly after these last days and nights when they had arrived at something close to a sexual balance. The sailor drew back with a loving smile.

  “Is crazy. I want you sometimes like I want girls. Like just for you. For Robbie. Is no wrong, I think. Just crazy.”

  “I certainly thought it was wrong at first. Chope et fume. Remember? I couldn’t believe I wanted to do those things. I learned pretty fast, didn’t I?”

  “Sure. Now you get plenty handsome guys but you remember Rico. Hokay?”

  “Always, Rico. Take me so I can’t forget.”

  The next morning passed in a daze of arrival for the Coslings. They couldn’t believe that they were really in St. Tropez and that the place looked so exactly the way they had left it. This was home and they had made it. There was the big new hotel planted in Stuart’s vineyard. A trick of the landscape suddenly revealed their house sprawled against its hillside, a mirage, a stranger’s fantasy. It disappeared from view like a dream behind another outcropping of land. They were getting in close to shore. They passed the little fisherman’s port and Stuart’s eyes lingered on the handsome house that had once been called la batellerie. The close-knit world that had held them and isolated them for a small infinity of time was rapidly disintegrating. They were once more land-based, shaking themselves free from an alien element.

  The sails rattled down with finality and they motored into the crowded harbor and found a berth not far from the admiral’s yacht. Helene and Stuart were glad to see that it was still there. The midday apéritif hour was underway and strollers loitered to watch as they eased in to the quai and made fast. Robbie became aware that a good many eyes were focused on him. He saw two gaudily dressed effeminate young men exchanging remarks while they looked him over. They laughed and gestured to him to join them. Robbie looked hastily away, faced with an unexpected challenge. He was going to have to learn how to behave without giving himself away when surrounded by his own kind. If young men made advances to him, wouldn’t his parents begin to suspect that it was because they recognized his susceptibility? He wasn’t threatened by hostility but by a too overt acceptance of what he was. He moved restlessly toward the bow to get away from inviting eyes. He’d forgotten how obvious certain types were or perhaps they’d become obvious only now that he knew that he was one of them. He wished he were back in Greece where a manly young boatman could want him without its being considered remarkable.