Having already experienced the power of the current off Zanzibar, Sam had earlier worried about similar conditions here. Positioned as it was along the coast, with the tide surging from the south, the mouth of the inlet was a hydraulic vacuum, sucking ocean in from the south and spitting it out to the north.
Sam switched off the engine to save gas and gripped the wheel tighter. He said, “The good news is, we probably don’t have to worry about running aground. This current’s digging a pretty deep trench in there.”
The dhow bucked to the side and the stern slipped sideways. Sam corrected first to starboard, then to port, and the bow realigned on the mouth of the inlet. With both hands clamped on the rail, Remi was leaning over the side, a smile on her face, auburn hair streaming behind her.
“How fast are we going?” she called.
“Ten, twelve knots,” Sam replied, laughing. This close to the water’s surface it felt much faster. “Better make your way forward. I’m going to need your eyes.”
“Aye, captain.” She made her way to the bow. “Fifty yards to go,” sh
e called. “Steady on.”
To starboard Sam watched a four-foot wave crash over an exposed sandbar. “Surge coming,” he warned Remi and turned the wheel a few degrees to meet it. The wave hit them on the starboard bow, pushing the dhow sideways. The bow started to swing around off course. Sam muscled the wheel hard to starboard, compensating until the surge passed and the bow found the line again.
“Looking good. Steady on,” Remi called. “Twenty yards.”
Sam leaned over the starboard rail and looked down. The indigo water was thirty to forty feet deep, but six feet to the right he could see the white sand bottom through the turquoise water. He leaned to port and saw the same.
“We haven’t got much room to spare,” Sam called forward. “How does it look ahead?”
“Narrower still. Want a little drag?”
“Sure.”
Remi shimmied around on her belly, retrieved the Danforth anchor from its mount, tossed it over the bow, and let the line stream between her hands until she felt it skipping along the bottom. She hauled in a few inches of line and secured it to the pulpit rail. The dhow began slowing until they were moving in a jerk-and-surge fashion.
“Ten yards,” Remi called.
And then, as if the sun had suddenly been eclipsed, the dhow slipped inside the inlet. To the left and right, walls of green closed in around them; above, a ragged ribbon of blue sky. Sam looked aft and felt a surge of vertigo as the entrance to the inlet seemed to close like an iris door on a spaceship.
“Turn coming up,” Remi called. “Forty-five degrees to starboard.”
Sam faced forward again. “Ready when you are.”
“Three . . . two . . . one . . .Turn!”
Sam gave the wheel a quarter spin to port and held it.
“Starboard turn!” Remi shouted.
Sam spun the wheel again.
“Hold it there,” Remi ordered. A few seconds passed. “Okay, start easing back to port. Keep going . . . more . . . Good. Steady on.”
As if on cue, the current died away until the dhow was skimming ahead at a walking pace. The inlet widened out slightly, leaving fifteen feet on both beams.
“Haul anchor,” Sam called. “I think we’re okay.”
Remi retrieved the Danforth and returned to the cockpit. From the banks came the sounds of the jungle easing into twilight: the plaintive squawks of parrots, the croaking of frogs, and the buzz of insects.
“It’s so peaceful,” Remi said, looking around. “A little spooky but peaceful.”
Sam grabbed the map from its compartment and unfolded it on the roof of the cabin. Remi clicked on a flashlight. Sam skimmed his index finger around the island. “We need the circumference.”
Remi retrieved the dividers and walked them around the coastline, occasionally marking headlands and landmarks with a pencil. Once done, she scribbled some calculations in the margins, then said, “Big Sukuti is nine miles, give or take. Little Sukuti, about five.”
Sam studied his watch for a moment. “We’ll reach the other mouth in twenty minutes. If that Rinker makes another patrol right away, it’ll be passing the northern side of this inlet about twenty minutes after that. If it doesn’t show up, it probably means no more patrols for the night or they’re only doing them every few hours.”