To The Stars

“Yes, thank you.”

Jan drained half of the foaming glass and sighed. He was getting into the holiday mood at last. “Have one yourself, Piet.”

“I will. Very kind of you, sir.

Aileen looked closely at the driver, the blond hair and reddened skin, and sensed a mystery. Though the man was polite his manners were not the rough ones of a prole’s. “I hate to admit it, Piet,” she said, “but I have never heard of South Africa.”

“Few have,” he admitted. “The city of South Africa isn’t very big, just a few thousand whites in a sea of blacks. We’re a fortress built over the diamond mines, nothing else. I didn’t like working in the mines and there is nothing else one can do — so I got out. I like the job here and the way I can move around.” A shrill bleeping sounded and he put down his glass and hurried to the controls.

It was late afternoon when Magna appeared on the horizon, just a blur where the desert sand met the ocean. The shining glass towers of the holiday complex were soon visible; bright-sailed boats dotted the sea before them.

“I know I’m going to like this,” Aileen said, laughing.

The hovercraft slid up onto the beach well clear of the boats and swimmers, at the very edge of the crumbled mud huts that made up the native town. A few burnoosed Arabs were visible, but vanished from sight before the door of the craft was unlocked. There was an open carriage waiting for them, drawn by a donkey. Aileen clapped with joy at the sight, widened her eyes at the dark-skinned, turbaned driver, and enjoyed every mo­ment of the short ride to the hotel. The manager hurried up to hold the door for them and greet them; porters made off with their bags. Their room was spacious with a wide balcony facing the sea. A basket of fruit was waiting on the table and the manager himself opened the bottle of champagne and poured the first glassful.

“Welcome again,” he said, managing to bow and pass them the glasses at the same time.

“I love it,” Aileen said, kissing Jan soundly as soon as they were alone. “And I’m dying to get into that ocean out there.”

“So why don’t we?”

It was as good as it looked. Despite the season the water was comfortable, the sun hot on their shoulders. England and winter were a bad dream, very far away. They swam until they were tired, then went and sat beneath the tall palm trees and had a drink in the red glow of sunset. Dinner was served on the terrace and they did not bother to change. To make the evening complete a brightly glowing full moon rose above the desert.

“I just can’t believe it,” Aileen said. “You must have arranged the whole thing.”

“I did. The moon was due to rise two hours from now but I speeded it up for you.”

“Very kind of you. Jan, look, what are they doing?”

Dark shapes were moving out from the shore, chang­ing and growing while they watched.

“Night yachting. Getting up their sails.”

“Could we do it? Do you know how?”

“Of course I do!” he said with authority, trying to remember the little he had learned about sailing on his first visit here. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

It was a mess, of course, and they laughed as they stumbled over the tangled ropes, and finally had to shout to the shore for aid. One of the Arab boat handlers came out in a skiff and soon put the lines to right. A light breeze had sprung up, so that with the mainsail set they were soon moving smoothly over the calm sea. Moonlight showed the way clearly; the stars burned from horizon to horizon. Jan held the tiller with one hand, the other about Aileen who leaned against him, kissed him, her skin warm against his in her brief bathing costume.

“Almost too much,” she whispered.

“Never enough.”

They did not tack and the wind carried them further from shore, until none of the other boats were in sight and the land had vanished in the darkness of the water.

“Aren’t we too far out?” Aileen asked.

“Not really. I just thought it would be nice to be alone. I can navigate by the moon, and we can always drop sail and use the auxiliary to get back if we have to.”

“I haven’t the slightest idea of what you are talking about but I trust you.

A half an hour later, with the air getting cooler, Jan decided to turn around. He managed to go all-aback when he tacked, but eventually the sail filled again and they could see the lights of the hotel on the horizon ahead. It was very quiet, the only sound the slight rush of water under the bow and the crackling of the sail, so that they heard the rumble of motors when they were still far away. The sound grew, quickly.

“Someone’s in a hurry,” Jan said, squinting into the darkness toward the growing whine of straining engines.

“What’s out there?”

“I haven’t the foggiest. But we’ll know soon, they seem to be coming this way. Two engines it sounds like. Funny time of night to go racing.”