Directly in front of them was what to the electronics looked like a solid wall measuring three hundred and eight feet long and forty high. It was three hundred yards away—still too distant, in the poor lighting. The motors purred sedately as they neared. When it was fifty feet off, Juan toggled the floodlights mounted over the pressure hull.

Tamara put her hands to her mouth to stifle a gasp. In seconds, tears coursed down her smooth cheeks.

Though he hadn’t invested a lifetime studying the subject, Juan couldn’t help but feel emotional as he gazed across time and distance at the massive Chinese junk lying on the bottom of the Bellinghausen Sea.

The masts had long since vanished, most likely broken off by a passing iceberg, and there was a huge hole in her hull just below where her bottom had been clad in copper. Other than that, she looked perfectly seaworthy. The low salinity and frigid temperatures meant there was little life in these waters to attack the wood. She couldn’t have been better preserved if she’d been left in a windless desert.

Just above her waterline were dozens of ports. Juan asked about them because he doubted they were windows.

“For oars,” Tamara replied. “A ship this size would probably have twenty to a side, and each one would have at least two rowers, sometimes three. She would have had probably six or seven masts that were square-rigged like all junks.”

Nearer still, they could see that the long superstructure that ran almost the entire length of the ship had been painted a buttery yellow with red trim and possessed pagoda-like architectural details.

“The Emperor would have insisted that his ships be as ornate as possible,” Tamara continued, “in order to show off the wealth and sophistication of his kingdom. Only the finest artists and craftsmen would have been allowed to work on them.”

“And you said she was loaded with treasure?” Linda asked.

“You showed me that lump of gold you recovered. And those shards of jade.”

“The crewman who survived the sinking and died near Wilson/ George must have pocketed them from the stores,” Juan said, and flew them up and over the huge ship. “It’s possible the prions hadn’t progressed that far yet, and he still had his wits about him.” Dr. Huxley had confirmed that the Chinese mummy and Andy Gangle were riddled with them.

Over the bow were two large cannons shaped like dragons. They were scaled-up versions of the pistol they had found next to Gangle’s corpse. There was so little slime on them that Juan could see teeth etched around the bore and wings carved along their flanks.

The aft deck was actually three stories taller than the main, and there was a square house dead in the middle with an elegantly sloped roof. Tamara pointed toward it. “That would be for the captain’s use.”

“His cabin?”