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Pitt rubbed caked salt from his eyes, comforted in a small degree at feeling that the swelling had gone down. He looked down into the intensely blue eyes, drugged with fatigue and misted by deep sleep. He watched as they stared at him, and they began to shine. "Venus arising from the waves," he said softly.
She sat up and fluffed out her salt-encrusted blond hair. "I don't feel like Venus," she said, smiling.
"And I certainly don't look like her." She pulled up her sweater and gently touched the red welts around her waist, put there by the constant friction of the safety line.
Giordino slipped open an eye. "If you two don't quiet up and let a man sleep, I'm going to call the manager of this hotel and complain."
"We're going for a dip in the pool and then have some breakfast on the lanai," said Maeve with intrepid brightness. "Why don't you join us?"
"I'd rather call room service," Giordino drawled, seemingly exhausted by the mere act of speaking.
"Since we're all in such a lively mood," said Pitt, "I suggest we get on about the business of survival."
"What are our chances of rescue?" asked Maeve innocently.
"Nil," answered Pitt. "You can bet your father dropped us in the bleakest part of the sea. Admiral Sandecker and the gang at NUMA have no idea what happened to us. And if they did, they wouldn't know where to look. If we're to reach our normal life expectancy, we'll have to do it without outside help."
Their first task was to pull in the steadfast sea anchor and remove their shoes and the tools and other items from Pitt's jacket. Afterward, they took an inventory of every single item, seemingly useless or not, that might come in handy for the long haul ahead. At last, Pitt removed the small packet that he had shoved down his pants just before driving the bus over the side of the dock.
"What did you find with the boat?" he asked Giordino.
"Not enough hardware to hang a barn door. The storage compartment held a grand total of three wrenches of various sizes, a screwdriver, a fuel pump, four spark plugs, assorted nuts and bolts, a couple of rags, a wooden paddle, a nylon boat cover and a handy-dandy little number that's going to add to the enjoyment of the voyage."
"Which is?"
Giordino held up a small hand pump. "This, for pumping up the flotation tubes."
"How long is the paddle'?"
"A little over a meter."
"Barely tall enough to raise a sail," said Pitt.
"True, but by tying it to the console, we can utilize it as a tent pole to stretch the boat cover over us for shade."
"And lest we forget, the boat cover will come in handy for catching water should we see rain again,"
Maeve reminded them.
Pitt looked at her. "Do you have anything on your person that might prove useful?"
She shook her head. "Clothes only. My Frankenstein sister threw me on the raft without so much as my lipstick." '
"Guess who she's talking about," Giordino muttered.
Pitt opened the small waterproof packet and laid out a Swiss army knife, a very old and worn Boy Scout compass, a small tube of matches, a first aid kit no larger than a cigarette package, and a vest-pocket .25 caliber Mauser automatic pistol with one extra clip.
Maeve stared at the tiny gun. "You could have shot John Merchant and my father."
"Pickett stood a better chance at Gettysburg than I did with that small army of security guards."
"I thought you looked awfully well endowed," she said with a sly smile. "Do you always carry a survival kit?"
"Since my Boy Scout days."
"Who do you intend to shoot in the middle of nowhere?"
"Not who, but what. A bird, if one comes close enough."
