Chapter 14, Roberts

  I run my thumb along the rough fibers of the lead line, waiting for the ship to slow enough to let the weight sink straight. I might’ve been stubborn earlier, but I’m not fool enough to sail blind. We need at least one depth reading before we get any closer to the sandbars.

  The deck creaks beneath my boots as the ship eases out of its steady momentum. Overhead, the sails soften as the wind spills from them and the rigging groans as the lines adjust. Below, the waves lap gently against the hull. It’s a song I know by heart. The sounds of a ship alive and breathing.

  “Captain Roberts!” Sarah says, and she sounds pissed.

  I glance over my shoulder just as she strides onto the deck, eyes flashing, the kind of look that usually means trouble.

  I smirk, letting the weight at the end of the line dangle. “Look, whatever it is, it can wait. I’m work—”

  “Shut up.” She interrupts.

  “Oh? What happened to your manners?” I lean lazily against the rail, smirk widening. “Or did you forget them when you overslept?”

  Sarah’s fingers curl into fists, her chest rising. “No. No more.”

  No more games, is what she meant to say. It’s one of those moments right before someone takes the swing you both knew was coming.

  But something stops her from swinging. The anger she had on her face transforms into dread.

  I turn back to the lead line, keeping an eye on her from the corner of my vision as I drop the weight into the water. It sinks fast, the rope unspooling through my hands. I wait for the moment the lead touches bottom, but the line just keeps going. That’s not right.

  “Roberts, stop.” Sarah pleads.

  She’s gone pale. Her hands gripping the rail, poised to fall over if she lets go.

  “I’m kind of busy.” I say.

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  “We have to turn back, now.” She says, breathless.

  I frown, keeping her in my periphery as I watch the line sink. Still no slack.

  “I told you, no special trips.”

  “It’s not that. Please, we have to turn back. It’s not safe.” She begs.

  “What the hell’s gotten into you?” I say, watching her more carefully now.

  Her mouth opens and closes, speechless. She’s breaking down.

  I shake my head, pulling the line back in. “Sarah, you’re losing it.”

  She blinks hard and finds her words. “No—no, I swear to gods, something’s wrong, we need to turn around.”

  She’s shaking. And I still have no goddamn idea why. There is something wrong… the depth reading. But what the hell would she know about that?

  "Jake, take another reading off starboard," I say, tossing the coiled rope into his hands. "Now."

  I turn on my heel and head for Harken in the chart room. Sarah follows a step behind me, but I don’t acknowledge it.

  “The depth’s off, Jake’s double-checking.” I tell Harken.

  He’s bent over the charts when I reach him, running a finger along our last recorded position.

  Harken looks up briefly then flicks his eyes back to the map. “Could be a trench.”

  A quiet beat passes. I fold my arms, glancing over my shoulder at Sarah. She looks like she’s seeing a ghost.

  Jake leans into the doorway shaking his head. "Same reading. No bottom."

  Harken’s brow twists. His fingers drum once against the chart before he grabs a ruler, double-checking the distances. “It’s possible we’re not where we think we are.”

  “Alright.” I glance at Harken. “Best call?”

  He flicks his eyes to Jake, then back at me. “Shift the heading a few degrees leeward. Just to be safe.”

  I nod. “Let’s do it.” I say already leading the way back to the main deck.

  “Manee!” Harken calls, loud and steady.

  The order is given. Sails trimmed, anchors raised. Sarah is still following me. She’s calm now, too calm. Just…there.

  Harken, Jake, and I stand by the wheel, watching as the ship moves under fresh wind. The air is tight, charged with the weight of what might be a mistake.

  The course correction could keep us from running into the Shards, but we’re trading one risk for another. The southern current is known for trapping ships that aren’t ready to fight it or ride it. At best, we lose time. At worst, we get pulled off course into unfamiliar waters, sitting ducks in territory we don’t control.

  I turn to Sarah, “So. What was that all about?”

  “I—I don’t know. Just a—” She shakes her head. “Forget it.”

  I watch her go. Whatever that was, it passed. I have bigger things to worry about. I turn back to the wheel, eyes on the heading. We’ll see soon enough if we made the right call.