It is dusk in the quiet anchorage when, breaking the stillness of the afterglow, comes the ringing of a cellphone. It is in the cockpit of a nearby yacht, whose owners have somehow managed to reach shore without it. After an endless number of rings, it stops. Moments later, it starts again, and this pattern repeats itself for an hour as some fool on the other end of the line refuses to believe that a cellphone can actually go unanswered. From a boat in the anchorage, a dinghy crosses to the offending yacht.