half hour of negotiations to get it.
‘A bit more than I expected,’ Jack said. ‘Apparently, some people rented
one a couple of days ago, and it hasn’t been seen since. That episode
has driven the rental price up, I’m afraid.’
‘More than a hundred or less?’ Warren asked. He, too, wasn’t impressed
with the craft’s apparent seaworthiness. ‘Because if it was more than a
C note you got took.’
‘Well, let’s not quibble,’ Jack said. ‘In fact, let’s get the show on
the road unless you guys want to back out.’
There was a moment of silence while the group eyed each other.
‘I’m not a great swimmer,’ Warren admitted.
‘I can assure you that we are not planning on going into the water,’
Jack said.
‘All right,’ Warren said. ‘Let’s go.’
‘You ladies concur?’ Jack asked.
Both Laurie and Natalie nodded without a lot of enthusiasm. At the
moment, the noonday sun was enervating. Despite being on the shore of
the estuary, there was not a breath of air.
With the women positioned in the stern to help lift the bow, Jack and
Warren pushed the heavy pirogue off the shore and jumped in one after
the other. Everyone helped paddle out about fifty feet. Jack attended to
the motor, compressing the small hand pump on top of the red fuel tank.
He’d had a boat as a child on a lake in the Midwest and had a lot of
experience fussing with an outboard.
‘This canoe is a lot more stable than it looks,’ Laurie said. Even with
Jack moving around in the stern it was barely rocking.
‘And no leaks,’ Natalie said. ‘That was my concern.’
Warren stayed silent. He had a white knuckle grip on the gunwale.
To Jack’s surprise, the engine started after only two pulls. A moment
later, they were off, motoring almost due east. After the oppressive
heat the breeze felt good.
The drive to Acalayong had been accomplished quicker than they’d
anticipated, even though the road deteriorated in comparison to the road
north of the Cogo turnoff. There was no traffic save for an occasional
northward-bound van inconceivably packed with passengers. Even the
luggage racks on the tops had two or three people holding on for dear
life.
Acalayong had brought smiles to everyone’s face. It was indicated as a
city on the map but turned out to consist of no more than a handful of
tawdry concrete shops, bars, and a few hotels. There was a cement-block
police post with several men in dirty uniforms sprawled in rattan chairs
in the shade of the porch. They’d eyed Jack and the others with
soporific disdain as the van had passed by.
Although they had found the town comically honky-tonk and litter strewn,
they’d been able to get something to eat and drink as well as procure
the boat. With some unease, they’d parked the van in sight of the police
station, hoping it would be there on their return.
‘How long did you estimate it would take us?’ Laurie shouted over the
noise of the outboard. It was particularly loud because a portion of its
cowling was missing.
‘An hour,’ Jack yelled back. ‘But the boat owner told me it would be
more like twenty minutes. It’s apparently just around the headland
directly ahead.’
At that moment, they were crossing the two-mile-wide mouth of Rio
Congue. The jungle-covered shorelines were hazy with mist. Thunderheads
loomed above; two thunderstorms had hit while they’d been in the van.
‘I hope we don’t get caught out here in the rain,’ Natalie said. But
Mother Nature ignored her wish. Less than five minutes later, it was
pouring so hard that some of the huge drops splashed river water into
the boat. Jack slowed the engine and allowed the boat to guide itself,
while he joined the others under the thatched canopy. To everyone’s
pleasant surprise, they stayed completely dry.
As soon as they rounded the headland, they saw Cogo’s pier. Constructed
of heavy pressure-treated timber, it was a far cry from the rickety
docks at Acalayong. As they got closer, they could see there was a
floating portion off the tip.
The first view of Cogo impressed everyone. In contrast with the