Page 293 of Hidden Depths

I looked toward the fishing boat.

“Not at that speed.”

Ward studied me.

“You’re sure?”

“Grandpa brought us through that channel when we were children.”

“That was years ago.”

“I’ve sailed it since.”

Calle nodded.

“So have I.”

“How deep?”

“Eleven feet in the center,” she said. “Less than six on either side.”

Ben glanced toward the fishing boat.

“That vessel draws what?”

“Probably four feet,” I answered.

“Then it can follow us.”

“Only if the captain knows where the channel bends.”

Calle’s eyes met mine.

There was no marker.

No buoy.

Nothing to show where the safe water ended, and the coral began.

Grandpa had taught us to navigate it by the shape of the cliffs and the color of the sea.

The port-engine alarm began screaming.

Calle pulled back the throttle.

Our speed dropped immediately.

Behind us...

The fishing boat gained.

“Decision time,” Ben said.

Ward looked from Calle to me.

Then toward the approaching boat.

“Do it.”