Chapter 88: Against the Current

The skiff rose over a swell, then dropped hard enough to knock Severin’s knee against the gunwale. He caught the wet rail and watched a ragged line of black rock emerge ahead of them.

From farther out, it had looked scarcely large enough for a gull to stand on. Now he could see submerged stone extending well beyond the exposed ridge.

"Feet in," the boatman said, shortening his stroke. "Rocks right under us."

Leo watched the broken water from behind him. Rafael had the fishermen’s chart braced against one knee, its edges darkening with spray. Armin occupied the bow with two glass jars wrapped in sacking. Leo had kept him ashore to recover after the cuts beneath the refuge. Armin had rejoined them at the harbor with the equipment.

Rafael pointed past the ridge. "They put the net down there?"

"Somewhere round there. They would’ve drifted a bit." The boatman nodded toward the foam slipping around the rock. "Ebb runs out that way. Comes back round behind the skerry."

"Enough to yank the net sideways?" Leo asked.

"If it snagged, maybe. Or if the boat swung."

He edged them past a shallow spur where an old rope scar cut across the stone. Two more places showed marks from lead weights. Nets had been caught there before, but Severin could see nothing blue-green along the scars, only wet weed and shell.

"You sure their net came in this close?" Leo asked.

"Can’t be sure. But I’d start looking here."

Leo pointed to the higher shoulder. "Can you land us there?"

"Aye. You’ve got a few minutes. When I call, get back aboard."

The boatman brought the bow into a narrow patch of quieter water. Severin stepped onto the skerry first, his boot slipping on weed before he found firm stone. Rafael followed with the sample case. Leo helped Armin ashore, then signaled for the boatman to back away into a deeper channel.

A low ridge now stood between the investigators and the skiff. The oars creaked beyond it as the man kept his vessel clear of the rocks.

Severin went to the rope scar and found several crossing scores in the stone, along with an old lead weight wedged beneath a fringe of kelp. He saw nothing there that distinguished it from ordinary tackle lost at sea.

Farther up the slope, a patch of barnacles had turned chalky white. Several shells were broken, with pale remnants of flesh caught inside. A wet crease above them carried a faint blue-green stain.

"Leo, look at this."

Leo crossed to him, Rafael following with a fresh wooden scraper. The stain lay sheltered from the direct wash. A thicker thread of material clung beneath the lip of the rock, giving off the same faint light Severin had seen in the fishing net.

"Looks like our stuff," Rafael said.

"Don’t scrape it yet," Leo said.

Severin followed the discoloration with his gaze. It widened beyond the crease into a dirty band, then narrowed again where the stone rose. Barnacles had been crushed into their shells along that path. Farther on, kelp lay pressed flat, its holdfasts still attached.

"Something came across here," Severin said.

"Might’ve been dragged," Leo said.

They followed the damage over the shoulder. Rafael stopped beside a loose stone jammed against a shallow ridge. Under its edge, broken shell had been ground into the black surface.

Severin crouched beside him. The kelp on the other side lay bent toward deeper water. Whatever displaced the stone had pressed down hard enough to trap the growth beneath it.

Rafael tried to measure the disturbed width with his pencil, then stopped when the marks broke into separate irregular patches. He raised his voice toward the skiff.

"Could a wave have pushed something across here?"

"Sure," the boatman called from the skiff. "A big swell can throw wreckage up there."

"Even that way?"

"Depends on the tide. When it comes in, water runs behind the skerry. Swell can hit from either side."

Rafael pointed to a chipped stone lying over flattened kelp. "Look at those shells underneath. A net line wouldn’t crush them like that."

Severin looked back toward the clear rope scars. One ran down the natural fall of the rock. The damaged band crossed it and curved around the shoulder before continuing toward the seaward edge.

He remembered the fisherman pulling the clean rope sideways at the harbor, showing how the net had jerked before the boat swung. Miriam’s old account had described light moving against the water.

A swell pushed a thin sheet of water over Severin’s boot. He stepped back, eyeing a loose fragment with blue-green material on one face.

"I could try cooling that," he said.

"Not here," Armin said. "Water keeps washing over this hollow. Take it up to the ledge."

Severin took the scraper from Rafael and eased the fragment loose. Its upper face bore a narrow smear; its broken underside appeared clean. He carried it on the scraper behind the ridge, out of the boatman’s view. Rafael brought an empty jar while Armin took position to watch the water.

"You’re not touching that stuff?" Leo asked.

"Just the clean side. See what cold does to it."

Severin turned the fragment until his right fingertips rested against the clean underside. He focused through the mark in his blind left eye, still covered from view.

Green light showed faintly through the cloth as he drew heat from the stone.

Moisture frosted along the underside. Above it, the smear tightened. The loose edge stopped sagging, and the thicker strand drew into a stiff ridge as its blue-green shine faded.

"Enough," Leo said.

Severin stopped drawing heat. The green glow beneath his eye covering faded. His fingers were slow to release the stone, and he flexed them until they let go.

Rafael leaned closer without touching the affected face. "It’s holding its shape."

"For now." Leo took the scraper from Severin and pressed its tip into the residue. The material buckled but clung to the wood.

They waited while Rafael noted the observation. The fragment lay on stone warmed slightly by the daylight. The stiffened smear began to sag again, and a narrow line of blue-green material crept down its face. Leo ordered the fragment packed separately from the other samples.

Beyond the ridge, the boatman called, "Tide’s getting low. How much longer?"

"Couple of minutes," Leo called back.

They returned to the exposed crease. Although the tide was falling, each swell still pushed a shallow wash across the lower stone. A colored thread loosened from the damaged barnacles and spread into the retreating water.

"It’s washing away," Severin said.

Armin crouched beside the wash. "Rafael, get the other jar open."

Rafael drew the cork. Shielded by the rock from the boatman, Armin pulled back the glove on his left hand. Green lines lit across the mark.

A small tongue of seawater rose from the hollow. He held it together long enough to guide part of it over the jar’s mouth. The water dropped inside, and Rafael sealed the vessel before the next wash reached them.

The remainder slipped back down the stone. The visible blue-green thread stretched thin through the moving water until Severin could no longer follow it.

Armin drew his glove on. Color had risen above his collar despite the cold air. He took a narrow thermometer from his coat, set it beneath his tongue, and waited while Rafael packed the glass.

"Temperature?" Leo asked.

Armin checked the thermometer. "Fine." He returned it to its case and took the sample bag.

Severin studied the damaged band. Brighter material lingered in sheltered cracks, while exposed stretches held scarcely any. Broken barnacles still contained pale remnants of flesh. The recent wash had failed to scour the damaged area clean.

"Could’ve been from when the net snagged," Rafael said.

"Maybe. No way to tell when it got here," Leo said.

Severin moved around the outer shoulder. The band curved between two humps of rock, with loose stones displaced near the edge. Beyond, the bottom dropped out of sight into green-black water. A last smear marked the lowest visible ledge.

Leo joined him. "Something heavy came through here."

"And went back in," Severin said.

"Or got dragged back. Hard to tell."

The boatman whistled from the channel. He had shifted the skiff farther off the rock and now held it against the outward run with hard strokes.

"Come on, then! Back aboard!"

They packed the samples and crossed back. The boatman brought the bow close on a passing swell. Severin helped Armin aboard after Rafael, then braced himself while Leo stepped in. The next pull of the oars took them clear of the submerged spur.

From a little distance, the skerry looked ordinary again, black stone patched white where birds had fouled it. Severin could no longer distinguish the damaged strip they had followed.

In the skerry’s shadow, something pale shone beneath the water beyond the rock.

He leaned forward. Blue-green light hovered below the surface, blurred by moving seawater. At first he thought another strand had washed free.

Outside the skerry’s curling backwash, foam streamed steadily out to sea. The light traveled against it, then swung across the skiff’s wake.

"Leo," Severin said.

Leo followed his gaze. The boatman’s oars paused.

"That’s going against the ebb," the man said.

The light turned toward the skiff.

"Get us clear," Leo said.

The boatman dug both oars into the water. The skiff lurched ahead, its stern swinging clear of the rock. Severin kept his right eye on the blue-green light as it slipped beneath a band of darker water and vanished.

He searched the surface beside them, seeing only foam and the long shadow of the skerry.

Then the glow appeared again, less than two boat lengths from the stern.