“Madmen! They ignored our radio calls and just kept on coming. Look, they’ve run aground.”

“The bridge crew must be incapacitated,” Pitt said.

“They will be when I’m through with them.”

The launch picked up speed and raced toward the grounded ship, steering well clear of its still-spinning prop. A crowd had gathered on the beach to gawk, while distant sirens signaled the approach of the Valparaiso police.

The ship sat upright, with just a slight list to starboard. Her decks showed no sign of life. A long metal conveyor ramp dangled over the side like a damaged limb, nearly reaching the water. Used to fill and unload the freighter’s holds, the conveyor had been knocked ajar during the collision with the Sea Splendour. Franco saw it offered a way aboard, and he ordered the launch alongside.

The ramp just about matched the launch’s deck height. A seaman was ordered to walk on it to test if it would hold. The man took a few tentative steps, then turned and gave the captain the thumbs-up. He scampered up the heavy conveyor belt, which tilted across the ship’s rail, and hopped onto the deck. Captain Franco came next, nervously climbing on the dust-covered belt and making his way up. Too absorbed in keeping his footing, he failed to notice Pitt following a few paces behind.

Franco reached the ship’s rail and was helped down by the waiting seaman. He was startled when Pitt jumped off the belt and landed beside him. Franco turned to admonish him for coming aboard, but Pitt beat him to the punch.

“We better get those engines shut down.” Pitt nudged past Franco and headed toward the bridge.

Franco vented at the seaman. “Search the deck and crew’s quarters, then meet me on the bridge.” He turned and hurried to catch up with Pitt.

The bridge sat atop a multistory superstructure near the stern. Stepping aft, Pitt gazed at the large hatches that covered the ship’s five main holds. The last one was partially open. Each hatch had two hinged covers that opened to the side hydraulically. As Pitt approached the hatch just ahead of the superstructure, he peered through the gap. The cavernous hold was empty except for a tiny bulldozer sitting under a layer of silver-colored dust. Pitt guessed the forward holds still contained their cargo, which would account for the high-riding stern. Noticing fragments of silver rock on the deck, he pocketed a large piece in his swim trunks and continued toward the bridge.

“Is there no one aboard this vessel?” Franco reached Pitt as he started up a companionway.

“I haven’t seen a welcome committee yet.”