Diego signaled for Pepe to keep going. As they passed the boat a man’s head peered at them from just outside the pilothouse. There was a small light on inside it and a radio was playing some soppy, Venezuelan love song. Margie heard a young woman’s voice and a man’s deeper response without being able to make out the words. When they had passed, the man went back inside the small structure at the front of the boat and the light went out.
Pepe waited until they had rounded the bend in the river to pull over to the shore. The men agreed that they would wait before making their approach to the boat. Any fear that the occupants had that their craft had contained river pirates would have dissipated by then. They sat there in the raft, its bow tied off to a branch that overhung the river for a full hour before they moved again. Diego amused himself by playing with Margie’s breasts and pussy, driving her into an unwanted, unsatisfied excitement. Pepe hummed the tune that they had heard over the radio from the boat, occasionally softly breaking out in a few of its words.
Diego signaled when it was time to go. He leaned over to Marjorie and whispered to her, “If you make a single sound,
conchita
, I’ll hack you up into little pieces,
comprende
?” The fearful, unhappy woman nodded dismally.
The river was deadly quiet as they let the small raft float noiselessly downstream. Diego and Pepe had picked up long poles from the shore and used them as primitive steering tools to keep the vessel on course. When they turned the bend, Margie could see the darkened boat bobbing innocently at its anchor. She feared for the people in it. She knew that the
jefe
had murder in his heart and that the people would not be likely to survive the evening. Should she do something? The man would certainly kill her and painfully at that. She believed his promise. She thought of the torment that he could inflict on her and her body trembled. Tears came to her eyes as she struggled with her ethical dilemma. But because she was gagged, even if she made a sound, the people might not hear her. She could end up suffering for nothing. And she wanted to live. As much as despair had ruled her for the last 72 hours or so, in spite of her feelings of shame for how she had responded to the man’s callous assaults, she wanted to live, believed that maybe fate would intervene and save her from death at this murderer’s hands. Despondent at her fear of acting, she remained silent.
When the raft was a few feet from the boat, Diego let his pole slip away into the river and placed his widespread palms out in front of them. Pepe used his pole to slow down their speed and when the raft had come alongside of the larger craft, Diego was able to bring them to a stop silently and without causing the boat to sway at its anchor. He tied off the bow of the raft to a davit on the gunwale of the boat and then let the raft swing around until it was parallel to the boat’s starboard side. They were between the boat and the shore and anyone looking out might not see their figures as they merged with the dark background of the jungle behind them. Diego looked at Margie. He was holding the knife that he had used on her the first day and he made a drawing motion across his throat. Margie caught his meaning right away and she had the urge to draw her bound hands to her naked, defenseless throat to protect it.
The muscular bandit gave Pepe a nod and they quietly climbed up over the gunwale of the boat. Diego had the knife between his teeth and his
machete
on his belt. Pepe had a
machete
too. It was too dangerous to use the automatic rifle at night and in such close quarters so they left it behind in the raft. In a trice, the men had disappeared.
There was nothing but the sound of the water running alongside the bobbing boat as Margie waited in the dark for the resolution of the bandits’ attack. Maybe the people in the boat had a gun or something and would kill the killers. Would they save her? Why not? She had done nothing. Hope sprung up in her breast for the first time since she had been stolen from the streets of
Cotabaya
.
Out of the darkness came a woman’s scream. Then a man’s deep, throated yell. Then there was chaos as voices shouted and screamed, their sounds all melding together. She heard a woman’s voice call out desperately, “No! No!” and then scream again even as a man’s voice gave a loud, painful sounding groan. There was the sound of a woman’s crying and a dull thud like the sound of a body hitting the deck and then, familiar, celebratory laughter. Margie’s heart sank. She knew who had won.
A few moments later, she heard the sound of something being dragged along the deck and a large object then flew by her into the water. She turned to watch it splash in the river. A second later, it returned to the surface. It was a man. He groaned in pain and made some dulsatory efforts to begin to swim. The river carried him away quickly and the last thing that Margie saw of him was his head sinking below the murky water.
Diego’s happy face appeared over the side of the boat. “
Aya
,
gringa
!” he said loudly and merrily. “I’m back! Did you miss me?” He gave a hearty, throaty laugh. “Come on board.”
He deftly climbed over the side of the boat and released Margie’s ankles from her wrists and stood her up. He lifted her body until she was half over the gunwale and then, placing his hands on her soft, rear globes, pushed her the rest of the way over. Margie groaned with pain as her body hit the deck with a loud ‘thud’. She quickly crawled to her knees and took a look around. Pepe emerged from a passageway down below with a frantically sobbing, young, black haired woman in tow. Her hair was long and straight, down to her waist, and she had thick dark eyebrows and a wide, but not protuberant nose. She looked to Margie to about 25. She was slender, with wide hips and soft, round shoulders. Her skin was dark brown and she had small, round, graceful breasts that were exposed by her torn nightdress. Her arms had been bound behind her and she struggled with the lean but strong man as he brought her up on deck and then threw her down on the hard, wooden surface. There was a long length of rope descending from her bound arms and he quickly and deftly captured each of her wildly swinging feet and tied them off to her wrists. Pepe had a long, bloody scratch on the left side of his face and he gave the young woman a vicious kick in the ribs. She screeched in pain and then continued to hurl a string of heated invectives at the man while sobbing and crying. Her captor’s henchman tore a long piece of fabric from the bottom of her nightgown and after rolling it up, knelt down and forced it into her mouth. He then took a length of rope and ran it between her outstretched lips and tied it off at the back of her head. The young woman’s tearful protestations were reduced to a mere murmur.
In the meantime, Diego had jumped back on board. He was carrying the rifle and the box from the raft that carried their meager supplies. He put them down on the deck and then, taking his
machete
from his belt, leaned over the side of the boat and gave their raft a few quick strokes. Margie could hear the air hissing out of it as he untied its bow and let it float away downstream. As soon as enough air had escaped from it, the weight of the engine would carry it to the bottom. The craft had served its purpose.
Margie expected a period of celebration by the men for their victory but they were all business. Smiling at her, her captor pushed her to her belly and reconnected her ankles to her wrists. Pepe got busy pulling up the anchor while his leader went into the pilot house and started the engines. A deep roar erupted from the belly of the boat and soon it was underway.
The men peered carefully ahead of the boat as they sped it away from the scene of their crime. While it was unlikely, it was possible that another river trader knew the location of the boat they had just pirated and would come looking for it. Or someone who knew the now deceased captain might happen by and seeing it, would stop to visit or share mutual protection through the night. It was better that they get upstream and find some lagoon or other hideaway for the time being.
Riding up the middle of the river, the men let the boat steam along for a good 40 minutes or so. Diego knew the river well and he pointed out to Pepe the mouth of a broad stream pouring into the
Cioro
on the right bank. He slowed the boat and maneuvered it to the entrance. Ten minutes later, they entered a small lake. When they had reached its approximate middle, Diego cut the engines and Pepe dropped the anchor.
Once the boat had come to rest, the two men broke into joyful laughter and hugged each other, clapping each other on the back. They had won a marvelous prize. In the space of a minute, they had gone from destitute bandits to river faring pirates loaded with booty. Ignoring for now the two women hogtied on the deck, they tore open the tarp in the stern and started going through the cartons. It was about 3 a.m. and the moon was low on the horizon but still shed a little light on the slightly bobbing craft. Margie, whose head was turned the other way, could not see, but heard the sound of boxes being torn open and cast aside. Shortly there was an exclamation of delight from Diego. “Johnny Walker Black!” he shouted. “Four cases!”
Pepe gave a little whoop and called out, “Cigars! Cubanos!” The men laughed and ceased their search for the time being. They would resume it tomorrow when it was light. But for now, there was something to celebrate with.
Diego came forwards and sat down on the rail of the boat. Margie watched him as he broke the seal, unscrewed the top to the premium scotch and took a long chug. He smiled and smacked his lips as the smooth, dark amber liquor went down. Pepe came over and, after taking the bottle, leaned his head back and chugged several ounces. When he had swallowed, the men laughed and clapped each other on the shoulders again. Pepe handed her captor a cigar.
“Let’s see the
negra
,” Diego spat out as he twirled the cigar in his hand. Pepe nodded and handed him back the bottle of scotch. He then stepped over to the still crying woman and flipped her to her back. She moaned with pain as she landed on her bound feet and hands. She tried to struggle away, but Pepe gave her two mighty slaps of his hand across her face.
“Be still,
puta
!” he ordered her churlishly. The frightened woman, tears streaming down her face complied. The marauder leaned over and, grabbing the torn bodice of her nightgown, ripped it down the middle until it was rent in half. Her smooth, flat belly was exposed, but she kept her knees held tightly together, guarding her precious place from his pirate’s eyes. He punched her viciously in her thigh and ordered her to open her legs. Groaning at the effects of his blow, she reluctantly spread her knees revealing a wiry, thick, black bush at the apex of her bound legs.
“Ah, what a lovely sight!” Pepe exclaimed. Diego looked over with more than an academic interest. Another cunt to fill. “
Bueno
,” he thought. But under the circumstances he would give Pepe first dibs.
“Take her below and fuck her, Pepe, you’ve earned it.”
The slender bandit looked up at his leader with excitement in his eyes. For three days he had watched he naked
gringa
with undisguised lust. This poor woman was going to receive the consequences of it. Pepe took hold of a thick skein of her long, black hair and dragged the unfortunate, unhappy woman along the deck. She screamed at the pain. Margie watched, horrified at his callousness, as he dragged her down after him while he descended to the living compartment below the forward deck. The girl cried out and sobbed as she bounced on the steps of the ladder as she followed him down. Her cries faded as they disappeared from view.
An unnatural peace settled over the deck. Diego took another pull of his bottle of scotch and then contemplated the fine, Cuban cigar that Pepe had handed him. He walked into the pilot house and rummaged around inside it for a few minutes and then emerged with a box of matches. He bit into the end of the cigar, spit out a small plug of tobacco and then lit it. The match glowed and the flame rose and fell as the bandit leader puffed on the cigar until it was burning well. His face appeared demonic in the repeatedly waxing and waning, partial light. When he was satisfied that the cigar was properly lit, he resumed his seat on the gunwale and after taking a deep drag, let a large cloud of bluish gray smoke exude into the night air.
“Ahhhhhh” Diego intoned. Life was good. The fact that he had killed four men in three days didn’t bother him a bit. That was their problem. They shouldn’t have been born weak and stupid. His fortunes kept climbing. Three days ago he was waiting to be hanged and today he was captain of his own vessel carrying a very valuable cargo and headed to where he could easily dispose of it, no questions asked. And he had the blond
gringa
. She had brought them luck. He was glad that he had not slit her throat back at the camp site. He and Pepe would now be arguing over the brown skinned bitch and he might have had to kill him. But since he still had the
gringa
puta
, everything worked out fine. He would make sure, of course, to let Pepe know that he had no exclusive right to the delectable looking black haired girl. But that could wait until tomorrow.
The happy bandit took another swig from the Black Label scotch. It was smooth and aromatic as it descended his gullet. Not like that native brandy he was so used to drinking. His body felt warm and content. He looked down at the blond haired woman lying on the deck, her ankles and wrists in the air. Her face was turned towards him and she was eying him warily. The orange gag covered the lower portion of her face and so he could not see her expression, but he was sure that she was impressed with the alacrity with which he had dispatched the unlucky captain of the boat and the efficiency of his successful raid.