Bolo and the natives dug in their paddles and surged upstream, quietly singing a rowing song to keep them in time.
Thinking of his hero, Admiral Nelson, Smith wished he could have at least been standing in the bow of the canoe, but he wasn’t sure his balance was sufficient to the task.
* * *
On the patrol boat, Captain Morales continued to scan the river with his binoculars. Sweat beaded on his brow. They should have seen something by now. O’Halloran’s warning couldn’t be wrong.
“The moon is going down and we’re losing whatever light we had, sir,” the chief officer said, standing nervously at the captain’s side. “Shouldn’t we tie up to the bank and continue the search at dawn?”
Morales whirled on him. “And miss half a million dollars? You must be crazy. Where’s your patriotism?”
* *
