Perfect Freedom (36 page)

The morning brought assurance that the statue was buried where Carl could find it and Stuart told Angelino that he wanted to sail for France that night. Mr. von Eschenstadt would join the family for an intimate little farewell dinner on board. They would find a secluded anchorage for an evening swim and return before midnight. Angelino could take the crew ashore for supper.

Once these details were settled, the four conspirators felt tension mounting. Although it was unlikely, the statue's disappearance might be discovered at any moment. The prank they had discussed so lightly had acquired a hard-edged reality. They agreed that they might be able to relax if they had a look at the lay of the land and were ready for action. They hadn't taken this wait into account.

The money, part of a hoard of cash Stuart had brought for emergencies, was in Carl's hands. Robbie's eyes were bright with excitement. They all wanted to get on with it.

After a hasty lunch, they motored through rough sea to the southern tip of the island where Carl guided them through a narrow opening into a spacious bay, still and wooded. The water was deep quite close in to shore and Stuart anchored almost within a stone's throw of a log lying on the beach. They all looked at it and at each other, and burst into laughter. Tension eased. The setting felt peaceful and remote. Robbie was sure he could make out the contours of the statue under a light covering of sand. It was going to be even easier than Carl had made it sound.

They lowered the dinghy and dropped a coil of rope into it and their preparations were complete. Carl warned them not to go ashore while it was still light. They swam in the clear pale water. The unfamiliar absence of the crew made the Coslings feel as if the boat belonged to them. As the sun sank, Helene prepared dinner. They had drinks on deck. They were the privileged few, surrounded by luxury and the harmonies of nature, free of the world's strife, except for the undertone of excitement provided by the outrageous act they were about to commit. By nine it was almost dark and dinner was finished.

“So. Our big moment has come,” Carl said. He gave Robbie's shoulder a squeeze under cover of the gathering darkness. “What will you say if we find nothing there but the log?”

“Don't even suggest it,” Robbie exclaimed. He leaned in against the big body and in an instant discovered what it meant to be bereft. He wouldn't be with Carl tomorrow. How did people survive being abruptly cut off from each other when they had become part of each other's lives?

Carl's laughter boomed. “I'm not such a great fool, eh? Come. We will dig up our treasure.”

They pulled the dinghy around alongside and Helene stood at the rail while the three men dropped down into it.

“We'll be right back,” Stuart whispered. He realized that there was no need for caution and added in a normal voice, “You better get things cleaned up so we can leave right away.”

“Don't let Robbie strain himself carrying that heavy thing,” she said.

“Oh, really,” Robbie growled. They pushed off and rowed in to the sandy beach. It was dark but not so dark that they had any difficulty seeing what they were doing. The log was a black shape against the white sand. Robbie leaped ashore and sprinted ahead and dropped to his knees to roll it aside. Within seconds, he found a leg and followed it up to the torso, scooping up sand in handfuls. It was as exciting as stripping a lover. Stuart and Carl joined him and the three completed the job together.

Burrowing in the sand, they didn't have to move the statue to secure the rope around the arms and shoulders. They all leaned to the task of dragging it down to the dinghy. It required their combined strength to dislodge it from its shallow grave. Its weight made a furrow on the beach.

In a moment they were sweating profusely and their muscles were beginning to ache. They slipped and staggered across the loose sand and came to a halt with their feet in the water beside the dinghy.

“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.