II

Garry cut the Bayliner’s engine and let momentum take them into Morombe beach. A crowd of Malagasy women waded out with trays and bowls filled with snappers, octopus and sardines for Ron to choose between, as well as with the papayas, manioc and onions they’d farmed from their small gardens. Knox jumped overboard, grabbed his bags and dumped them on the beach before returning to help Lucia, asking about transport on the way. The coastal track didn’t go all the way to Eden; besides, a bridge just south of town had been brought down by the recent cyclone and it hadn’t yet been repaired. The only way to reach Eden was by fishing pirogue.

He explained this to Lucia, who took it in her stride; she’d been planning on taking a pirogue anyway, so that she could write an article about the experience. They agreed to share a pirogue as far as Eden; after that, she’d take it on by herself south to Tulear, from where she was flying out in two days time. They each had things to do in town, Knox to change money, Lucia to check out of her hotel, but they decided to head along the beach and hire a pirogue now, so that they could leave their bags behind. As they trudged along, their feet plunging deep into the powdery sand, Knox wished he hadn’t packed quite so much. But Adam and Emilia had disappeared at sea, so he needed his dive-gear; and he couldn’t exactly turn up without a change of clothes.

The piroguiers sitting by their boats sniffed business; they jumped up and hurried to meet them. The dearth of tourists caused by Madagascar’s coup was evidently biting hard. Knox outlined their plans, asked the price, sparking a Dutch auction in which the young men underbid each other to win the work. Two of them reached the same price, but only one spoke decent French, making their decision easy. The young man’s name was Thierry. He led them over to his pirogue, where his brother and partner, Alphonse, was mending nets. Knox gave the pirogue a once-over. Its thin, canoe-like hull had been chiselled from a single trunk, then fitted with slat seats and a weighty torpedo of an outrigger to make it more stable. It looked fine to him, as did the mast and sail lying on the sand alongside.

‘Any chance of making Eden tonight?’ he asked.

Thierry gave the universal sailor’s shrug. ‘It depends on the wind,’ he said. ‘But it’s not a problem. My brother lives at Ambatomilo. Or we can make a tent and sleep upon the beach.’

‘Sounds perfect,’ smiled Lucia. ‘I love a night on the beach.’

‘Can you look after our bags?’ asked Knox. ‘We need to go into town.’

‘Of course,’ said Thierry. ‘We wait for you here.’

‘Great,’ said Knox. ‘See you later, then.’