Softly Bill sculled along at the side of the yacht. Over the portholes curtains were drawn, so he could see nothing of what was going on inside. The moon was hidden behind clouds, and it was now so dark that he nearly ran into a tiny wooden landing stage. As he paused with the dinghy close under the narrow steps, he could hear the clink of dishes, as if a late meal was being prepared; and a skylight nearby threw the sound of excited conversation out on to the deck.