CLARA AWOKE WITH A start as a spray of cold water slapped across her back. She lifted her head and looked around in irritation.

She saw the swell of a wave rising behind her, the white crest of foam. For a moment Clara thought she had drifted into the breakers and was about to be washed up onto the beach. She looked ahead to see how close the beach was. She saw another wave.

A cold fear gripped her. These were not the long gentle waves of the shore, but the dark choppy waters of the sea. Her shoulders tightened. She gasped air into her lungs. Slowly, holding on to the float with tight cold hands, she lifted her head.

There were only waves, rising then falling to reveal more waves. She turned and glanced over her shoulder. A wave broke over her legs and sent cold spray across her back again. She ducked her head. She waited tensely, afraid to move.

As the float rose on the crest of the next wave, she lifted her head and saw the faint gray line of the shore on the horizon. The solid hump of the hotels, stores, and houses at the end of the island told her how far away she had drifted.

She began to paddle. Her arms dipped into the sea again and again, her cupped hands pulling through the cold water. She did not look up, just kept drawing her arms mechanically through the sea like a swimmer. Spray slapped across her face, but she did not stop to wipe it away. When she paused, finally, to rest her trembling arms, she looked up and saw the shore was no nearer.

She put her head down. She lay with her eyes closed, blocking the sea, the waves, the distant island, from her mind.

Suddenly the sun went behind a cloud, and Clara felt the chill of the wind. Her teeth began to chatter, her legs to shake. The float wiggled unsteadily, too, and Clara clutched the sides. She tried to breathe deeply, regularly. Stay calm, she told herself. A spray of water hit her face, and she spit out saltwater. Stay calm, she repeated.

There was nothing gentle or comforting about the sea now. This was no mother comforting a child. This was a mean hang-on-if-you-can kind of motion.

Suddenly Clara heard the sound of an engine. Her spirits surged. Her head snapped up. A boat was on the horizon.

“Over here!” she screamed, waving her arm. “Help me. I’m over here!”

It was a cabin cruiser, moving steadily toward the island, rolling slightly with the motion of the waves. Clara could see a man on deck, facing away from her, into the wind.

“Help! I’m over here! Help!”

How could he not hear her? Clara struggled to sit up on the float. “I’m over here. I’m—” Suddenly the float flexed over a wave and bucked like a horse. Clara yelped, flopped down, and clutched the plastic. When the motion of the float was steady again, she raised her head.

“I’m over here!”

The boat had already moved past her. She could smell the fumes from the exhaust. The sound of the engine was growing fainter. The man on deck had gone into the cabin.

“Come back!” she yelled louder. “Help me! Come back!”

The boat grew smaller, the sound fainter, and Clara’s shoulders sagged. Her nose began to run.

Then she lowered her head and started crying, making no effort to wipe her wet face. “Why didn’t he see me?” she moaned.

Suddenly a wave hit the float broadside. The float rose, dipped with a sickening lunge, and rose again. Clara felt her stomach twist with nausea. She tightened her hold. As the float rose again, she closed her eyes and waited for the sickness to pass.

A second wave broke over the side of the float, and water filled her nostrils. She choked and gagged. And as she threw back her head for air she saw there was nothing in sight now but the sea. She was overcome with a kind of loneliness she had only read about.

She twisted in a desperate move, churning the water with her hands, turning the float around. There was the island. The lighthouse. She felt a moment of relief.

She thought she heard another boat. She raised her head. There had to be boats! There were hundreds in the marina. She waited, but the only sound she heard now was the waves.

There was an unreal feeling to it all, she thought, as she searched the horizon for boats. Her eyes stung with salt and tears. It was as if she had gone to sleep in one ocean and awakened in another.

She began to paddle again, moving her arms through the cold water. This made her feel better, more in control. She kept her head down so she could not see that she was not getting closer to the island. Indeed, the island seemed to be drifting farther away.