"Are we going down there?" Lucienne asked.
"I want to speak to the jefe."
"It looks wild."
"Haven't you been there?"
"No, I've never been there."
"The jefe wears tigre skins."
"You're joking."
Raul's men laughed at her.
A rough but short route got them to Palma Sola in the late afternoon, sun at their heels. Before freshening up, Lucienne and Raul went to see some monster turtles lying in beached dugouts. Each one had barnacles on its wounded shell: how their red eyes begged for freedom!
A fisherman, coiling hand line, put his foot on the gunwale, pointed at one and said, "It came from far off," as if he had a magical probe that reached undersea and understood all mysteries.