He was terribly hot and sweaty, and bright light was in his eyes, and none of 
these things were consistent with being underwater. He awoke to see a bright 
blue sky overhead, pawed at his face, and found that the spectacles were gone. 
Fiona was there in her white dress, watching him with a rueful smile. The floor 
was pounding Hackworth on the buttocks and
evidently had been for some time, as the bony parts of his backside were 
bruised and raw. He realized that they were on the raft, heading back toward 
the London docks; that he was naked and that Fiona had covered him with a sheet 
of plastic to protect his skin from the sun. A few other theatergoers were 
scattered about, slumped against one another, utterly passive, like refugees, 
or people who've just had the greatest sex of their lives, or people who are 
tremendously hung over.