Taking his shift on the lookout platform high on the mainmast, Bannon called out, “A line of foam due south, Captain! Looks like rough water.”
The captain leaned closer to the carved figurehead of the Sea Mother, shading his eyes. “That’ll be the reefs.”
Nicci watched the shirtless wishpearl divers rouse themselves, as if awakening from a long sleep. “Our services are required,” said the one named Sol, who seemed to be their leader.
Elgin stretched lazily. “I’ll get the ropes and the weights.”
The other three, Pell, Buna, and, Rom, began breathing deeply, inhaling, exhaling, stretching their shoulders, loosening their arms. Given the size of their chests, and their commensurate lungs, Nicci guessed these divers might be able to stay underwater for some time.
Buna narrowed his eyes at Nicci. “After a good day’s haul of wishpearls, maybe we’ll all get to have our wish with the lady.”
With a huff, Nathan took insult at the comment, but Nicci answered calmly, “If I get my wish, you won’t be physically capable of thinking such thoughts ever again.”
*
Even without charts, Captain Eli guided the Wavewalker through the choppy water, dodging dark barriers of exposed reefs, but the ship had room to maneuver in the deep channels. The crewmen tied up the sails, rolling the canvas against the yardarms and lashing it tight. When the ship slowly drifted into position, they dropped anchor in a calm sheltered area, while the waves continued to break and foam along the outer lines of submerged coral.
Once the ship was safely anchored, the eager sailors watched the five wishpearl divers make their preparations. Sol barked orders to his comrades. “We go down two at a time. I dive first with Elgin, second will be Rom and Pell. After they come up, I’ll be rested enough to go down with Buna.” He flexed his arms back to display his broad pectorals marked with a chain of tattooed circles.
The divers opened a clay pot of grease, which they smeared over their skin. The grease would keep them warm as they went deep into the intricate coves and crannies of the reef. The grease also made them slide through the water, according to Rom, who smeared an extra layer across his chest.
Although the five divers had similar lines of circular tattoos, some sported more circles than others. Nicci learned that the tattoos were a tally of how many chests of wishpearls each diver had collected. Sol had been down so many times, he had started a second line on the right side of his chest. They each wore a braided belt from which dangled long, curved hooks to hang iron weights on, as well as a mesh sack for harvesting shells while they were underwater.
As the first divers, Sol and Elgin each tied one end of a long hemp rope to the belt around his waist and secured the other end to the foremast. Then they climbed up onto the rail, poised on callused bare feet. They fastened iron weights to the hooks on their belts, which would drag them down to the bottom so they wouldn’t waste time or breath stroking down to their destination. Once deep among the reefs, they could easily unhook and discard the weights before swimming back up.
As the two divers stood balanced in the sunlight, they inhaled, exhaled, then sucked in another great breath, expanding their chests and filling their lungs. With unspoken synchronization, the pair dove over the side and vanished with barely a ripple. The rope reeled out as they sank.
Captain Eli scratched the line of beard on his jaw. He seemed very calm and satisfied. “We might stay here at anchor a day or two. Depends on how long it takes to fill up our cargo chest.”
“A chest holds a lot of wishpearls,” Nathan observed.
“Yes, it does.” The captain took off his cap and wiped his hair, then settled it back in place.
After some minutes had passed, Bannon looked over the side, watching for the two divers to return. He glanced at Rom and Pell, who were fixing belts to their waists, attaching iron weights to the hooks, and securing their mesh sacks as they prepared to make their own dive as soon as the first pair surfaced.
Bannon asked the two men, “Do you think I could be a wishpearl diver someday?”
Rom looked at him as if he were an insect. “No.”
The young man’s expression fell, but he continued to peer over the side. “Here they come!”
The divers burst to the surface. Gasping, they shook their heads, flinging water from their long, clumpy hair. It had been nearly ten minutes, and Nicci was amazed the men were able to stay underwater for that long. Their lung capacity was as great as their arrogance.
Each man grabbed one of the dangling ropes and scampered up the hull boards. After they swung themselves over the rail to stand dripping on the deck, Sol and Elgin emptied their sacks, spilling out dozens of lumpy gray shells, which were eerily shaped like hands folded in prayer.
“Sweet Sea Mother, that’s lovely,” said Captain Eli as the crew rushed forward. “Absolutely lovely.”
The Wavewalker’s crew set to work with stubby flat knives to split open the wet shells, tear out the rubbery flesh, and pluck out icy-silver pearls.
Next, Rom and Pell dove overboard while their comrades rested. Sol spread his lips in a grin for Nicci. “If you offer me a proper reward, I’ll give you your very own wishpearl.”
Nicci simply said, “I already have one. Bannon gave it to me.” Sol responded only with an annoyed grunt.
By the time Rom and Pell swam back to the surface with an equally successful harvest, the next two divers were ready. For hours, the bare-chested men went down and came up again, over and over, as the crew shucked the shells and removed the pearls.
Curious, Nathan picked up one of the split-open shells discarded on the deck. “Remarkable. They look like human hands cradling the pearls.”
“Hands folded to make a wish,” Bannon said.
To Nicci, the crudely formed fingers appeared to be holding tight to the treasure hidden inside.
“These reefs are lush with shells,” said Buna after his third dive. “There’s enough treasure for a hundred trips.”
“And we’ll keep coming back,” Captain Eli promised.
Because the Wavewalker’s crew took some of their pay in wishpearls, they pressed the divers to descend over and over again. Nicci was just glad to see the arrogant layabouts actually working.
But at the end of the day, with the sun setting in a blaze of orange and golden fire, the five divers were weary. Although Sol, Elgin, and Rom did not seem inclined to do extra work, Pell and Buna agreed to make one last dive. The two tied ropes around their waists, attached iron weights to the hooks, and jumped overboard.
The sailors sat around on deck, chatting, shucking wishpearl shells, and piling the discards against the side wall. Pell and Buna stayed down for a long period—longer than any other previous dive that day. Nathan paced the deck, wearing an increasingly concerned look. The captain also looked worried.