The next stage of the journey was a small boat to the village of Shiringa. Molly and Jonathan had timed their arrival well, and the boat was nearly ready to leave. Six others joined them, and four of the passengers were also traveling to Shiringa. It would be at least four hours until they arrived.
Molly explained that the boatman had probably driven these boats all his life, and his family before him. He would have sat in a similar boat as a small child, learning the ways of the water. He watched out for tree trunks floating in the water and had to steer around objects from time to time. At one point, he had to slowly navigate through a huge mat of floating plants, forging a path through the vegetation.
They pulled into a small community to drop off two of the passengers and pick up cargo, then continued on their journey. They had been traveling a couple of hours through the full heat of the day, and the humidity was rising. Lulled by the gently rocking boat, the quiet hum of the motor and the warmth of the sun, the passengers started to drop into a trancelike sleep. Molly sat upright and propped herself against the side of the boat. She forced herself to stay awake and watch, without knowing why she felt it was so important to stay alert.
As they slowed to navigate around a fallen tree, they appeared from nowhere. A small canoe silently slid up beside them. Two ragged-looking boys, barely 13 or 14, tied their canoe to the boat and jumped on board. The first to board was shouting while he jabbed a machete at the passengers, gesturing for anything of value. The sleepy passengers woke up, completely startled. A young woman with a child on her lap, screamed “Pirates!” and pulled the child close to her. The second boy dashed to the front of the boat and nervously pointed an old and dirty looking pistol at the boat driver. Molly knew nothing about firearms, but was sure that, even if it was loaded, this one was so badly maintained it would explode if fired. The driver was so shocked and stunned; he just stared at the boy, open mouthed.
The first boy was moving nervously, causing the small boat to rock. He was yelling and motioned everyone to empty their pockets and luggage and to hand over whatever they had. The tense and unpredictable agitation of the boys was frightening.
Molly felt strange, as if she was absorbing a strength and energy from the air itself. Slowly and calmly, she rose to her feet, and concentrated on keeping her balance so as not to make any sudden movements. She was the nearest to the driver and the boy with the gun, and she started speaking softly to the youth.
“You must be Juan Carlos,” she said. “I know your Aunt Maria. How is she, dear boy? Oh, I haven’t seen her for such a long time. What a wonderful woman! We used to spend such lovely times together. We’d often go to the market. Such kind eyes. And your brother? How is he? Doing well now, I hope. She so loved her nieces and nephews.”
He looked back and forth between her and the boat driver. Molly greeted him with a soft smile and continued to speak softly, but firmly, saying nothing in particular about this woman she had called Maria. The young boy was confused. Then he darted his look between Molly and the second boy, who had stopped in his tracks to see what had happened.
From behind her, she heard the voice of the second boy. “We’re cousins. That was my mother. She died last month in a horrible accident.” He lowered the machete, dropped his head slightly, and closed his eyes gently.
“Oh, my dear boy, I am so sorry.”
She saw him weaken, and without hesitation, but moving very slowly, she went over to him. She reached out and put her hand lightly on his shoulder. He mumbled to her, but she understood almost nothing of what he said. She had a feeling that he was both apologizing and explaining why they had ambushed the boat. Molly kept talking softly, offering condolences and reassurances that everything was OK.
His cousin realized their plan had changed. He stuffed the pistol in his pocket and walked down to join Molly and the boy. Molly reached out and held his elbow, gently leading the two of them to the back of the boat. The boy placed the small pile of booty he had collected on the floor of the boat, and they stepped back into their canoe. Within an instant they were gone. They had slipped into one of the narrow canals formed by the swollen river.
All of the passengers stared at Molly.
“What happened there? How on earth do you know them?” asked Jonathan.
“I don’t know them, never seen them before. I was just lucky with the names. Anyway, it worked didn’t it? OK captain, ready to continue.”
With relief, the passengers started chattering and discussing the encounter and thanking Molly. They wondered if anyone recognized the boys, but it was a mystery where they had come from or where they would be going. One of the passengers said that pirates on the river had been unheard of for years, but there had been a few such incidents recently. The captain, still too shocked at what had happened to say anything, started the engine and picked up speed. Molly sat back in her original place in the boat and let out a sigh.
“Were you frightened?” Jonathan asked her.
“Yes. I think I was. But it just came out. I feel a little nauseous now. Pass me some water, please.”
In silence, they continued to gaze out at the passing landscape, but this time, it was Jonathan who was on full alert. He saw it was a different world here. The rules were different.