Keaton
Robbie hoisted me up onto the Persephone, and my eyes immediately scanned the damage on the deck.
“F*ck,” I said shortly, looking at the masts that had been snapped, the shredded sails, and the piles of debris covered in seaweed.
I looked back over the railing at the sandbar where the Persephone had run aground, and then to the beach where two of the four skiffs had made it to shore.
“We didn’t take on much water, only in the engine room,” Robbie said, shaking his head, “Her hull is intact. We’re not sinking.”
“Good. That’s good,” I said through gritted teeth, “Drop the anchor. We’ll see how she floats at high tide.”
Robbie nodded and called out the command to the few crewmen who had followed us to the ship along the sandbar. They were all busy cleaning up the mess the storm h
