"It's the bell of the chapel," the helmsman—who I now know as Eduardo—paused as he led our long file through the very narrow trail that he said would lead us the fastest to the village.
What he was describing was the rhythmic metallic ringing that rode the air, making its way to us through the coconut trees.
I did not say anything, but silently, I took heart. It meant that they had already spotted the pirates coming, and maybe, just like in Baliis, the villagers had scampered out of the barrio before the pirates could get their hands on them.
We continued onward, rushing but hampered by the footpath that only allowed a one-man file. Until we noticed that the mud underneath our boots was now sand, and that the dense, layered vegetation transitioned to a much looser and lower undergrowth.
