So we got a dinghy off the boat we were chartering. I hadn't rowed a boat at all for about ten years, and I don't think Ralph had ever rowed one. I ended up rowing. The boat was just about big enough for the two of us to fit in -- a very small dinghy. And we came in kind of around the pilings on the sea-side. We were sneaking from piling to piling. We'd bought these six cans of red spray paint from the hardware store in the town and -- no, I actually bought them in New York, come to think of it. So, I guess I knew what we were going to do. Ralph was going to be the artist and I was just rowing the boat.

Somehow we managed to get right next to the Australian yacht. It looked like a huge, silver knife in the water; just a giant blade, a racing machine -- not good for anything else, absolutely stark and menacing. Particularly when you find yourself down at the water line right next to the hull -- with all the spotlights and guards around it, up above.

We could hear people talking further back, at the entrance to the dock. It never occurred to them that anyone would come in from the sea. I was trying to hold the dinghy against the side without making any noise, while Ralph stood up and painted. And you know those spray-paint cans have a little ball in them, and in order to mix the paint up, you have to shake it -- the little ball bangs around inside, and it hisses just before the paint catches and it starts to work.

It was the goddamn little ball that got us. Because it was so quiet in the harbor -- the sound of that ball bouncing around inside as Ralph shook the can up. . . And then when he started cursing as the hissing got going, this really alarmed whoever was up there, and they began to shout.

Somebody looked over the side and yelled, “What are you guys doing down there?” And I said something like “Nothing, nothing at all,” and told Ralph to keep going. And then they began to shout and a Land-Rover came speeding down the length of the dock, lights went on everywhere, all over the damn slip. It was a pretty tough stretch to row across with all these lights on us. But we realized we were going to have to do it -- or get jailed immediately -- so Ralph just hung on and we took off toward the darkness and the open sea in this dinghy with all these people yelling at us -- and Ralph still in a terrible psychological condition. . .

Because this was real fear that came on top of everything else. When the spotlights hit us, I thought they might start shooting. They were almost insanely serious about the security.