Kevin turned the canoe toward the opening and throttled back even more. The boat slowed. About thirty feet away, Kevin put the motor into neutral and then turned it off.
As the sound of the engine died off, they were thrust into a heavy stillness.
“God, my ears are ringing,” Melanie complained.
“Does it look like a channel?” Kevin asked Candace, who’d again gone up to the bow.
“It’s hard to tell,” Candace said.
Kevin grabbed the back of the motor and tilted it up out of the water. He didn’t want to foul the propeller in underwater vegetation.
The pirogue entered among the reeds. It scraped against the stems, then glided to a halt. Kevin reached behind the boat to keep the towed canoe from banging into the pirogue’s stern.
“It looks like it goes forward in a meandering fashion,” Candace said. She was standing on the gunwale and holding onto the thatched roof of the shelter so she could see over the top of the reeds.
Kevin snapped off a stem and broke it into small pieces. He tossed them into the water next to the boat and watched them. They drifted slowly but inexorably in the direction they were pointing.
“There seems to be some current,” Kevin said. “I think that’s a good sign. Let’s give it a try with the canoe.” Kevin moved the smaller boat alongside the larger.
With difficulty because of the canoe’s unsteadiness, they managed to get themselves into the smaller boat along with their gear and the food chest. Kevin sat in the stern while Candace took the bow. Melanie sat in the middle but not on one of the seats. Canoes made her nervous; she preferred to sit on the bottom.
By a combination of paddling, pulling on reeds, and pulling on the pirogue, they managed to get ahead of the larger boat. Once in what they hoped was the channel, the going was considerably easier.
With Kevin paddling in the rear and Candace in the front they were able to move at the pace of a slow walk. The narrow six-foot-wide passage twisted and turned as it worked its way across the marsh. The sun was now evidencing its equatorial power even though it was only eight o’clock in the morning. The reeds blocked the breeze, effectively raising the temperature even higher.
“There’re not many trails on this island,” Melanie commented. She’d unfolded the contour map and was studying it.
“The main one is from the staging area to Lago Hippo.” Kevin said.
“There are a few more,” Melanie said. “All leading away from Lago Hippo. I suppose they’d been made to facilitate retrievals.”
“That would be my guess,” Kevin said.
Kevin looked into the dark water. He could see strands of plant life trailing in the direction they were paddling, suggesting there was current. He was encouraged.
“Why don’t you try the locator?” Kevin said. “See if bonobo number sixty has moved since we last checked.”
Melanie entered the information and clicked.
“He doesn’t appear to have moved,” she said. She reduced the scale until it was equivalent to the scale on the contour map, then located the red dot. “He’s still in the same spot in the marshy clearing.”
“At least we can solve that mystery, even if we don’t see any of the others,” Kevin said.
Ahead, they approached the hundred-foot-high wall of jungle. As they rounded the final bend in the marsh, they could see the channel disappear into the riot of vegetation.
“We’ll be in shade in a moment,” Candace said. “That should make it a lot cooler.”
“Don’t count on it,” Kevin said.
Pushing branches to the side, they silently slid into the perpetual darkness of the forest. Contrary to Candace’s hopes it was like a muggy, claustrophobic hot house. There was not a breath of air, and everything dripped moisture. Although the thick canopy of tree limbs, twisted vines, and hanging mosses completely blocked the sunlight, it also held in the heat like a heavy woolen blanket. Some of the leaves were up to a foot in diameter. Everyone was shocked by how dark it was in the tunnel of vegetation until their eyes began to adjust. Slowly details appeared out of the dank gloom until the scene resembled late twilight just before night fall.
Almost from the moment the first branches snapped in place behind them, they were assaulted by swarms of insects: mosquitoes, deer flies, and trigona bees. Melanie frantically located the insect repellant. After dousing herself, she passed it to the others.
“It smells like a damn swamp,” Melanie complained.
“This is scary,” Candace commented from her position in the bow. “I just saw a snake, and I hate snakes.”
“As long as we stay in the boat, we’ll be fine,” Kevin said.
“So, let’s not tip over,” Melanie said.
“Don’t even suggest it!” Candace moaned. “You guys have to remember I’m a newcomer. You’ve been in this part of the world for years.”
“All we have to worry about are the crocs and hippos,” Kevin said. “When you see one, let me know.”
“Oh, great!” Candace complained nervously. “And just what do we do when we see one?”
“I didn’t mean to worry you,” Kevin said. “I don’t think we’ll see any until we come to the lake.”
“And what then?” Candace questioned. “Maybe I should have asked about the dangers of this trip before I signed on.”
“They won’t bother us,” Kevin said. “At least that’s what I’ve been told. As long as they are in the water, all we have to do is stay a reasonable distance away. It’s when they’re caught on land that they can be unpredictably aggressive, and both crocs and hippos can run faster than you’d think.”
“All of a sudden, I’m not enjoying this at all,” Candace admitted. “I thought it was going to be fun.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be a picnic,” Melanie said. “We’re not sightseeing. We’re here for a reason.”
“Let’s just hope we’re successful,” Kevin said. He could appreciate Candace’s state of mind. Kevin marveled that he’d been talked into coming himself.
Besides the insects, the dominant wildlife were the birds. They ceaselessly flitted among the branches, filling the air with melodies.
On either side of the channel the forest was impenetrably dense. Only occasionally could Kevin or the others see for more than twenty feet in any direction. Even the shoreline was invisible, hidden behind a tangle of water plants and roots.
As he paddled Kevin looked down into the inky water that was covered with a plethora of darting water spiders. The disturbance he caused with each stroke made fetid bubbles rise to the surface.
The channel soon became straighter than it had been in the marsh, making the paddling considerably easier. By observing the rate at which they floated by the passing tree trunks, Kevin estimated that they were moving at about the speed of a fast walk. At this rate, he figured they’d arrive at the Lago Hippo in ten to fifteen minutes.
“How about putting the locator on scan?” Kevin suggested to Melanie. “If you narrow the graphic to this area, we’ll know if there are any bonobos in the neighborhood.”
Melanie was huddled over the compact computer, when there was a sudden commotion in the branches to their left. A moment later, deeper into the forest, they heard twigs snapping.
Candace had a hand clasped to her chest. “Oh my,” she said. “What the hell was that?”
“I’d guess another one of those duikers,” Kevin said. “Those little antelopes are common even on these islands.”
Melanie redirected her attention to the locator. Soon she was able to report that there were no bonobos in the area.
“Of course not,” Kevin said. “That would have been too easy.”
Twenty minutes later, Candace reported that she could see a lattice of sunlight coming through the branches directly ahead.
“That must be the lake,” Kevin said.
After a few more paddle strokes, the canoe glided out into the open water of Lago Hippo. The trio blinked in the bright sunlight, then scrambled for their sunglasses.