Chapter 14
Beckett’s voice was hoarse. “What I need is a bullhorn.”
“I don’t think she could hear you over the engine anyways. And she can hear the engine. She’ll come out.”
Would she? That seemed like another bit of Waterfolk information that Beckett lacked. Did Nomadic Waterfolk trust strangers on motorized boats? When Beckett had lived on the Outpost he had found them to be very untrusting. Of him, personally, perhaps especially.
They turned into another inlet. This looked more promising. So far the islands had been banked with cliffs, or other inhabitable outcroppings, but this one had a sloping hill, trees, ferns, even rocks to tie off her boards. But there weren’t any boards. They puttered the engine and scanned the hill above.
“I should get out. Check the hill there.”
“Sure,” Dan spun the Zodiac to the right and deftly up against a rock. “Step careful.”
Beckett climbed from the rocking Zodiac to the slanting rock and then scaled it, trying to look casual and knowledgeable. He jumped from the rocks to land. This would be a perfect inlet. He scaled the hill, jumping across small gullies, pushing aside dripping limbs, slipping in mud, to the top and looked down. There were plenty of places to harbor, but no signs of life. After scanning the hill and around at the horizon he jogged, slipping and sliding, back to the Zodiac.
Dan asked, “Next one?”
