“In a few days, we’ll be on our way to Australia.”

Sam covered the tin of peanut butter and set it back in the food locker, which was made of the same lightweight aluminum as the water cans. “I certainly hope so,” he said.

“Hope so?”

Sam brushed a little sand from his clothes and stood and stretched. Sandy wound around his legs, sniffing for more peanut butter. Irene stared at his profile while he reached into his pocket and drew out a pack of cigarettes—among their emergency rations were a dozen cartons of same—and lit himself up. He strolled to the beach, and Irene rose to follow him.

“Tell me something,” she said. “That race to Hawai’i last year. How long were you out there floating on the ocean, before they found you?”

“Eleven days.”

“Why’d it take so long? They knew where to find you, more or less.”

“Because it’s a big ocean, Irene. If they pick the wrong spot to look, why, you’re on your own. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

Of course she knew that. It was just something you didn’t want to admit to yourself, didn’t want to think about when you were starting on your journey, deciding what to pack and what to leave behind, making all these plans and calculations. Now here they were. It wasn’t the worst that could have happened, not by a long shot. They were still alive and uninjured, except for a couple of scratches. They were on solid ground, a charted island known to mariners. Undoubtedly the navy was on its way to rescue them. It was all just a matter of staying alive! Irene folded her arms and stared at the reef, bubbling and frothing in the rising tide.

“Anyway,” said Sam, exhaling smoke, “at least we’ve got each other. We’re not alone. That’s something.”

The sun beat fiercely on the crown of Irene’s hat. Birds squawked overhead, looking for lunch inside the coral. Beyond the reef, the water was calm and blue without end, the horizon perfectly flat. Sam’s shoulder was round and sturdy next to hers.

“That’s everything,” she said.

Night fell suddenly, the way it does in the middle of the ocean. One minute they stared, stunned, at a monumental sunset, and the next minute they were sunk in darkness. Sam lit a cigarette that flared bright orange out of nowhere.

“Does it ever seem to you like an article of faith,” he said, “that we’ll see the old thing again tomorrow morning?”

Irene laughed. “That’s not very scientific.”

“There’s more to life than science, Foster.” He stretched and lay back in the sand. “Look at all those stars. You don’t see stars like that in Los Angeles.”