The first wreck loomed out of the mist like a dead man's finger, and the Mercy barely missed it.
Elias grabbed the rail as Mara threw the tiller hard to port. The old woman cursed under her breath, her knuckles white on the wood. The boat heeled, and the children screamed—a high, thin sound that cut through the green glow. The hull scraped against something below, a shriek of wood on rusted steel.
"Keep her steady!" Jesus shouted from the stern, where he and Reyes were fending off the jagged spars with long poles.
Mara didn't answer. Her eyes were fixed on the water ahead, where the shapes of sunken ships rose and fell with the swell. They were in the reef now, the graveyard of a hundred dead vessels. The current was strong, dragging them through a maze of broken masts and rusted hulls.
