Buckler, on the comms. “We’ll skim the coral. Go for flank speed and ship the outboard at the last second. Momentum should do the rest. Copy?” “Copy,” said Pearce. “Everyone, you might want to hold on to something,” Buckler said. “This could get bumpy.” There was nylon safety rope strung along the Zodiac’s gunwales. Lex twisted a loop around his wrist and motioned Albertine to do likewise. Pearce gunned the motor to maximum, and the Zodiac’s bow lifted, hydroplaning. Ahead, the sea seethed across the coral. Lex estimated a clearance of six to nine inches. It was going to be tight. The instant they hit the strip of boiling white, Pearce canted the outboard forwards so that the propeller sprang clear of the water, and twisted the throttle down to zero. The Zodiac scudded forwards, rudderless. Lex glimpsed coral fronds and spars rushing by below, branching extrusions and brain-like lumps, all colours, all textures. So fragile-looking, yet it could ground the boat and tear it to shreds.
