He gawked at the dead man and then looked at me, wiping the corporal's blood from his chin and jacket. I smiled at him."Go over to that tree," I told ...im, "and take off your clothes." It was a fairly mild day for late January, but the wind had shifted to the northeast, and I recalled how the other British officer had looked after a few hours at Magda's well. "Faster," I told him as he sat to pull off his boots. They were too small for me, unfortunately; they were very fine boots so I decided to. "You have to go north, to go south from here," I called back to the man, slumped in the chair. It looked as though he had dropped a red kerchief from his pocket on the white painted deck. "It's the way the river runs." Plucking up more courage than I had shown heretofore, I asked, "Where is it you want to get to?" Florida," he answered laconically."Holy shit," I thought, "this isn't a shipjacking, it's a fucking kidnapping." I figured it was best not to get too involved with this guy by asking. More

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