Tomas nodded, and the boys started to search the deck. Pug put as much space as he could between the bodies and himself when he passed them. All across the deck, debris created a confused spectacle for the eye. Trying to discern what might prove valuable and what might not was difficult. At the rear of the deck was a shattered rail, on either side of a ladder to what was left of the main deck below: about six feet of planking remaining above the water. Pug was sure that only a few feet more could be underwater, or else the ship would be higher on the rocks. The rear of the ship must have already been carried away on the tide.
Pug lay down on the deck and hung his head over the edge. He saw a door to the right of the ladder. Yelling for Tomas to join him, he made his way carefully down the ladder. The lower deck was sagging, the undersupports having been caved in. He grasped the handrail of the ladder for support. A moment later Tomas stood beside him, stepped around Pug, and moved to the door. It hung half-open, and he squeezed through with Pug a step behind. The cabin was dark, for there was only a single port on the bulkhead next to the door. In the gloom they could see many rich-looking pieces of fabric and the shattered remnants of a table. What looked like a cot or low bed lay upside down in a corner. Several small chests could be seen, with their contents spread around the room as if tossed about by some giant hand.
Tomas tried to search through the mess, but nothing was recognizable as important or valuable. He found one small bowl of unusual design glazed with bright colored figures on the sides, and he put it inside his tunic.
Pug stood quietly, for something in the cabin commanded his attention. A strange, urgent feeling had overtaken him as soon as he had stepped in.
The wreck lurched, throwing Tomas off balance. He caught himself on a chest, dropping the sword. “The ship’s lifting. We’d better go.”
Pug didn’t answer, his attention focused on the strange sensations Tomas grabbed his arm. “Come on. The ship’ll break up in a minute.”
Pug shook his hand off. “A moment. There is something.” His voice trailed off. Abruptly he crossed the disordered room and pulled open a drawer in a latched chest. It was empty. He yanked open another, then a third. In it was the object of his search. He drew out a rolled parchment with a black ribbon and black seal on it and thrust it into his shirt.
“Come on,” he shouted as he passed Tomas. They raced up the ladder and scrambled over the deck. The tide had raised the ship high enough for them to pull themselves up to the ledge with ease, and they turned to sit.
The ship was now floating on the tide, rocking forward and back, while the waves sent a wet spray into the boys’ faces. They watched as the bow slid off the rocks, timbers breaking with a loud and deep tearing sound, like a dying moan. The bow lifted high, and the boys were splashed by waves striking the cliffs below their ledge.
Out to sea the hulk floated, slowly leaning over to its port side, until the outward surging tide came to a halt.
Ponderously, it started back toward the rocks Tomas grabbed at Pug’s arm, signaling him to follow. They got up and made their way back to the beach. When they reached the place where the rock overhung the sand, they jumped down.
A loud grinding sound made them turn to see the hull driven onto the rocks Timbers shattered, and separated with a shriek. The hull heaved to starboard, and debris started sliding off the deck into the sea.
Suddenly Tomas reached over and caught Pug’s arm. “Look.” He pointed at the wreck sliding backward on the tide.
Pug couldn’t make out what he was pointing at. “What is it?”
“I thought for a moment there was only one body on deck.”
Pug looked at him. Tomas’s face was set in an expression of worry. Abruptly it changed to anger. “Damn!”
“What?”
“When I fell in the cabin, I dropped the sword. Fannon will have my ears.”
A sound like an explosion of thunder marked the final destruction of the wreck as the tide smashed it against the cliff face. Now the shards of the once fine, if alien, ship would be swept out to sea, to drift back in along the coast for miles to the south over the next few days.
A low groan ending in a sharp cry made the boys turn Standing behind them was the missing man from the ship, the strange broadsword held loosely in his left hand and dragging in the sand. His right arm was held tightly against his side; blood could be seen running from under his blue breastplate, and from under his helmet. He took a staggering step forward. His face was ashen, and his eyes wide with pain and confusion. He shouted something incomprehensible at the boys. They stepped back slowly, raising their hands to show they were unarmed.