Someone approached him, stood a little ways away, also looking toward the city. She was tall, well-built and athletic-looking, and alone.
"Nice evening," he said, moving closer to her. Nothing special in mind; he merely wanted company for a while.
"Please, not too close," she said in a husky voice, not at all unpleasant. "I had a nasty incident on a cruise vessel like this awhile back, and I'm still nervous, thinking about it."
"Sorry," he said, smiling. "I quite understand--I think. By the way, my name is John Weems." He extended his hand, and she misunderstood, thinking he was grabbing for her. She took his wrist in both her hands, swung him, off balance, toward the rail, and gave him a strong push. He hit the water with a great splash, and she looked over the side to see him floundering in the water.
"Throw me a life preserver," he said, choking on water. "I can't swim!"
She spun on her heel and marched away, murmuring to herself, "Men. They're all bastards. Out after only one thing. I wish they were all dead!"
With no one to sound an alarm, the boat moved lazily on through the night.