To their left was the string of islands that hugged the Equatoguinean coast. Kevin had been steering north to complete the wide circle around Cogo. Now he pushed over the helm to point the bow directly toward Isla Francesca, which loomed in the distance.

Once the mists had dissipated from the sun’s glare, a welcome breeze stirred the water, and waves began to mar the hitherto glassy surface. Pushing into a mounting headwind the pirogue began to slap against the crests, occasionally sprinkling its passengers with spray.

Isla Francesca looked different than her sister islands, and the closer they got, the more apparent it became. Besides being considerably larger, Isla Francesca’s limestone escarpment gave it a much more substantial appearance. There were even bits of cloudlike mist that clung to its summits.

An hour and fifteen minutes after they had left the pier in Cogo, Kevin cut back on the throttle and the pirogue slowed. A hundred feet ahead was the dense shoreline of the southwestern tip of Isla Francesca.

“From this vantage point it looks sort of forbidding,” Melanie yelled over the sound of the engine.

Kevin nodded. There was nothing about the island that was inviting. There was no beach. The entire shoreline appeared to be covered with dense mangroves.

“We’ve got to find Rio Diviso’s outlet,” Kevin yelled back. After approaching the mangroves as close as he thought prudent, he pushed the helm to starboard and headed along the western shore. In the lee of the island, the waves disappeared. Kevin stood up in hopes of seeing possible underwater obstructions. But he couldn’t. The water was an impenetrable muddy color.

“What about where all those bulrushes are?” Candace called out from the bow. She pointed ahead to an expansive marsh that had appeared.

Kevin nodded and cut back on the throttle even farther. He nosed the boat toward the six-foot reeds.

“Can you see any obstructions underwater?” he called out to Candace.

Candace shook her head. “It’s too murky,” she said.

Kevin turned the boat so that they were again moving parallel with the island shoreline. The reeds were dense, and the marsh now extended inland for a hundred yards.

“This must be the river outlet,” Kevin said. “I hope there is a channel or we’re out of luck. There’s no way we could get the canoe through those reeds.”

Ten minutes later, without having found a break in the reeds, Kevin turned the boat around. He was careful not to foul the towline for the small canoe.

“I don’t want to go any further in this direction,” Kevin said. “The width of the marsh is decreasing. I don’t think we’re going to find a channel. Besides, I’m afraid of getting too close to the staging area where the bridge is.”

“I agree,” Melanie said. “What about going to the other end of the island where Rio Diviso has its inlet?”

“That was exactly my thought,” Kevin said.

Melanie raised her hand.

“What are you doing?” Kevin asked.

“It’s called a high five, you jerk,” Melanie teased.

Kevin slapped her hand with his and laughed.

They motored back the way they’d come and rounded the island to head east along its length. Kevin opened up the throttle to about half speed. The route gave them a good view of the southern aspect of the island’s mountainous backbone. From that angle, no limestone was visible. The island appeared to be an uninterrupted mountain of virgin jungle.

“All I see are birds,” Melanie yelled over the sound of the engine.

Kevin nodded. He’d seen lots of ibises and shrikes.

The sun had now risen enough so that the thatched shelter was useful. They all crowded into the stern to take advantage of the shade. Candace put on some sunblock that Kevin had found in his medicine cabinet.

“Do you think the bonobos on the island are going to be as skittish as bonobos normally are?” Melanie yelled.

Kevin shrugged. “I wish I knew,” he yelled back. “If they are, it might be difficult for us to see any of them, and all this effort will have been in vain.

“They did have diminishing contact with humans until they were there in the bonobo enclosure at the animal center,” Melanie yelled. “I think we have a good chance as long as we don’t try to get too close.”

“Are bonobos timid in the wild?” Candace asked Melanie.

“Very much so,” Melanie said. “As much or more than chimpanzees. Chimps unexposed to humans are almost impossible to see in the wild. They’re inordinately timid, and their sense of hearing and smell is so much more acute than ours that people cannot get near them.”

“Are there still truly wild areas left in Africa?” Candace asked.

“Oh, my Lord, yes!” Melanie said. “Essentially, from this coastal part of Equatorial Guinea and extending west northwest there are huge tracts that are still essentially unexplored virginal rain forest. We’re talking about as much as a million square miles.”

“How long is that going to last?” Candace questioned.

“That’s another story,” Melanie said.

“How about handing me a cold drink,” Kevin yelled.

“Coming up,” Candace said. She moved over to the Styrofoam chest and lifted the lid.

Twenty minutes later, Kevin again throttled back on the motor and turned north around the eastern end of Isla Francesca. The sun was higher in the sky and it was significantly hotter. Candace pushed the Styrofoam chest over to the port side of the pirogue to keep it in the shade.

“There’s another marsh coming up,” Candace said.

“I see it,” Kevin said.

Kevin again guided the boat in close to the shore. In terms of size, the marsh appeared to be similar to the one on the western end of the island. Once again, the jungle dropped back to approximately a hundred yards from the edge of the water.

Just when Kevin was about to announce that they had again been foiled, an opening appeared in the otherwise unremitting wall of reeds.

Kevin turned the canoe toward the opening and throttled back even more. The boat slowed. About thirty feet away, Kevin put the motor into neutral and then turned it off.

As the sound of the engine died off, they were thrust into a heavy stillness.

“God, my ears are ringing,” Melanie complained.

“Does it look like a channel?” Kevin asked Candace, who’d again gone up to the bow.

“It’s hard to tell,” Candace said.

Kevin grabbed the back of the motor and tilted it up out of the water. He didn’t want to foul the propeller in underwater vegetation.

The pirogue entered among the reeds. It scraped against the stems, then glided to a halt. Kevin reached behind the boat to keep the towed canoe from banging into the pirogue’s stern.

“It looks like it goes forward in a meandering fashion,” Candace said. She was standing on the gunwale and holding onto the thatched roof of the shelter so she could see over the top of the reeds.

Kevin snapped off a stem and broke it into small pieces. He tossed them into the water next to the boat and watched them. They drifted slowly but inexorably in the direction they were pointing.

“There seems to be some current,” Kevin said. “I think that’s a good sign. Let’s give it a try with the canoe.” Kevin moved the smaller boat alongside the larger.

With difficulty because of the canoe’s unsteadiness, they managed to get themselves into the smaller boat along with their gear and the food chest. Kevin sat in the stern while Candace took the bow. Melanie sat in the middle but not on one of the seats. Canoes made her nervous; she preferred to sit on the bottom.

By a combination of paddling, pulling on reeds, and pulling on the pirogue, they managed to get ahead of the larger boat. Once in what they hoped was the channel, the going was considerably easier.

With Kevin paddling in the rear and Candace in the front they were able to move at the pace of a slow walk. The narrow six-foot-wide passage twisted and turned as it worked its way across the marsh. The sun was now evidencing its equatorial power even though it was only eight o’clock in the morning. The reeds blocked the breeze, effectively raising the temperature even higher.