Fable (Fable #1)(71)

Without hesitating, West turned the helm, and Hamish, Auster, and Willa reefed the sails, making the pockets tight so that the Marigold began drifting slowly. We moved toward the mouth of the reef, and Paj leaned over the bow, watching the prow cut through the shallow water.

I leaned over, calculating the side of the ship against the reef. “Come right!”

West guided the ship straight into the Snare, and silence fell, a chill running over my skin like the buzz in the air before lightning struck. Tempest Snare had taken more ships than anyone knew. In the distance, more than one mast breeched the water. But the sky was still clear, the movement of the water calm.

I looked down at my scar, following its shape to where the first fork was coming up. “Bear port, West. Five degrees.”

He tilted the helm gently until we were cutting east, just enough to slip into the next vein, and the reef narrowed.

“Careful,” Paj called out from the bow, his eyes on the depth as it grew shallower.

We inched along, passing the outcroppings of rock on either side, where birds were leg-deep in the water, plucking their breakfasts from the coral. Schools of fish swirled like clouds of smoke beneath the surface, breaking off as the ship drifted forward and the reef widened again before the next split.

“Bear starboard. Fifteen degrees,” I said, trying to sound sure.

West let the spokes rotate just slightly, and the mast vibrated under my hands as the keel slid along the sandy bottom. Willa met my eyes from where she was perched on the foremast, and I tried to slow the race of my heart, curling my fingers to calm the shake. One buried rock and we’d have a breach. But below, West looked calm, his hands light and careful on the helm.

I looked over my shoulder to the open sea. We were well into the Snare now. If a storm blew in, we were finished. Fear sang silently in my blood, its invisible tentacles wrapping around me and squeezing as we met fork after fork in the reef.

“It’s coming up,” I said, eyeing the hard turn ahead. Our speed was good, but it would all come down to the timing and the direction of the wind. If we turned too soon, we’d scrape the starboard side. Too late, and we’d crash the prow straight into the sharp corner of the reef.

“Steady…” I held a hand out to West, looking up to the sail above my head just as the wind suddenly changed direction, a gust rolling up off the water from nowhere. It pushed us forward, filling the sails, and the Marigold turned.

Too fast.

“Reef the sheets!” I called out.

Hamish, Auster, and Willa let the lines out and the ship slowed. But it was too late. We were too close.

“Now, West!”

I wrapped my arms around the mast and held on as he let the helm spin. “Drop anchor!” he shouted to Paj, who was already unlocking the crank.

If we were going to keep from smashing into the reef, we needed it to drag us. The others dropped the sails in unison and Paj kicked the lever of the anchor, sending it plummeting into the water.

The Marigold heeled, the stern swinging as we wheeled starboard. A sound like thunder erupted beneath us as the hull grazed the embankment, and Paj ran to the side, crashing into the railing as he peered over.

I pinched my eyes closed, every muscle constricting around my bones, my heart in my throat.

“It’s all right!” Paj shouted through a panicked laugh.

I looked up to the sky, gasping, as hot tears sprung to my eyes.

Hamish jumped down to help him raise the anchor back into place, and West set his forehead on the helm, letting out a deep breath.

But we were still moving. I studied the scar, my eyes running over the reefs below as the sails unfurled again. My heart swelled in my chest, a lump rising in my throat as we made it to the end of the next pass.

The opening between ridges came to a stop in the middle of a semicircle of reef—the atoll. And there, beneath the jewel-blue waters rippling like glass, a faint shadow glimmered.

The Lark.





THIRTY-SEVEN



I raked my hair up on top of my head, tying it in a knot as Auster stacked the baskets against the railing before me.

The Lark sat only forty or so feet below, and I guessed it would take almost an entire day of diving to get what we came for. The sun was nearly overhead, and it would be impossible to navigate out of the Snare in the dark, so we had to be fast if we didn’t want to spend the night on the atoll.

Paj checked the huge iron hook on the end of the line and slung it over the side. The rope uncoiled as it fell, sinking to the seafloor and pulling taut in the water.

The familiar weight of my belt around my waist calmed my nerves. The only thing we hadn’t accounted for was the fact that in the last four years, someone else could have found the Lark.

I checked my tools, running my fingers over the picks, chisels, mallet, and hammer twice. I’d only need them if something had gotten lodged or buried from the wreck, and I hoped that wasn’t the case. I needed every minute of daylight to get the haul into the baskets and get them aboard.

The water was crystal clear, the mainmast just below the surface, and I blinked away the image of my mother on its top, watching the moon. The thought of her pulled at the pit of my stomach, the feel of her like breath on my skin. I shivered, looking back down into the water. There was something about the stillness that made it feel as if she were still down there.

West came from his quarters as Auster hauled the last basket over the side. He dropped a belt on the deck beside me, pulling his shirt over his head. I followed the patchwork of stitching on his skin with my eyes. They added to the collection of scars that was already mapped over him.