Sitting up, Marissa noticed that the crew was already preparing to pull up anchor. The sail was unfurled and ready to be hoisted. Below she heard a baby cry for a moment.

Getting up, Marissa stretched her cramped muscles. She was surprised that she’d slept at all, especially after waking up from the nightmare she’d had about Robert.

Once she was limber, she walked over to the railing. After making sure all those on deck were preoccupied, she swallowed what pride she had left and relieved herself over the side of the boat. When she was finished, she was comforted that no one had taken the slightest notice.

Tristan was still fast asleep. Rather than wake him, Marissa climbed down the ladder and went below. Water was boiling on the pressure stove. With the help of the wife of the captain, Marissa made herself some tea and carried it up to the poop deck. By then Tristan had awakened.

“G’day, luv,” he said with his usual good humor.

Marissa shared her tea with him as the huge sail went up. Then they felt the engines start.

“Our man must be eager to get back,” Tristan said. “He’s going to sail and motor at the same time.”

As it turned out, the captain merely used the engines to move the junk from the lagoon. Once they were clear of the land, the engines were switched off and the sheets connected to the boom were pulled in taut and cleated.

Sailing along on the light morning breeze, they began to move south, approaching a point of the mainland. As the mist rose they saw fishing boats putting out from shore. It was quite peaceful until from somewhere in the distance they began to hear the distant roar of a motorized boat.

The captain responded to the sound by barking out orders to the crew. The sail came down with a whoosh and the diesels were started. Slowly the junk came around.

Bentley walked back to Marissa and Tristan to explain that the captain was heading toward shore.

“What’s happening?” Tristan questioned. He could tell the crew was agitated.

“We’re heading into one of those little bays along the shore,” Bentley said. “It’s for protection. The captain is afraid that sound we hear might be a PRC patrol boat. He said it couldn’t be a motorized sampan or junk; the engines are too big. He said if it weren’t a PRC boat then it could be pirates.”

“Oh, God!” Marissa said.

They were able to get within a hundred yards of shore before the source of the roar appeared. It was a cigarette boat. It seemed to be coming right toward them. Since most of the mist had evaporated, they could see the boat clearly.

The captain barked another order and both of the crewmen disappeared below. When they reappeared they were brandishing AK47 assault rifles with bandoliers looped over their forearms.