Scotty shook his head. "He didn't strike me as a thief, and that's what he'd have to be to wreck his trawler on purpose."
"I liked his looks, too. Then Cap'n Mike said he didn't drink, so his statement that he was under the influence of liquor wouldn't hold water, either. What's the answer?"
"If we knew, would we be here?" Scotty waved at the shore. "How far does this stuff extend?"
The water ended in an almost solid wall of rushes and salt-marsh growth that would be far above even a tall man's head if he stood at sea level. Now and then a small inlet appeared where the water flowed too rapidly for plant life to grow.
"There's about a mile of the stuff," Rick said. "It stops at the reef. I'm not sure how wide it is, but I'd guess it averages a quarter of a mile. It's called Brendan's Marsh, after an old man who got lost in it once. It was over a week before he was found."
They were approaching the reef at a good clip.
"What do we do first?" Scotty asked.
Rick shrugged. He had no plan of action. "Guess we just sort of wander around and wait for a bright idea to hit us."
"Lot of other people with the same idea, I guess." Scotty nodded toward the reef.
Rick saw a number of figures moving around the wreck of the trawler. "Wonder who they are?"