He could not let her from his sight, for more and more he understood he was nothing without her. Something in that gnawed at his soul. Soon, the brilliant colors of her Summer Sea came back to them, lighting their way through thick forests of kelp and waving sea grasses. John re-doubled his efforts to please Siren, making love to her whenever and however he could. She had only to beckon and he would come to her. He did not understand who or what she was—a goddess? Not a human, he knew now, for she did not want any part of humankind as far as he could see. But for all that Siren had become his life and he could think of little else, he thought of the children on the cliff. He thought of the sailors, the bos'n, the ship's carpenter as they strained at the oars of the disappearing long boat on the night Telesto broke apart on the reef. He hungered to know what had happened. And so they swam in the sea and played with dolphins and caught rides on broad-winged rays. "What happens to the ships that go down?" he asked.
