But the quarters were empty. They peered into cabin after cabin, dragging open the heavy watertight doors, one at a time. Strange fragments of past lives tangled in the beam of torchlight. Here, a string bag of potatoes, growing delicate white tentacles. There, a toothbrush, above a cracked basin. In a room of bunks, a Page 3 girl peered over her shoulder, toothily, torn. Half-lives, frozen, and forgotten.

But everywhere, there was the strange silence, the steady stillness, only the dust demons at their heels.

‘There’s no one here,’ Ed said, in the end. ‘Just dirt and cobwebs.’

Casey turned to him, face smudged with dirt. ‘You’re right. It’s empty. You can feel it.’

‘This ship is a tomb,’ whispered Hessa.

They climbed back down the layers of ladders, thick with khaki paint and salt, and clambered back out of the ship into the mud. The seashore was still, apart from the water lapping lazily as the tide slipped away.

‘It must . . .’ Casey spun in the mud, flicking her fingers with frustration.

‘There’s nothing in the Tephi,’ said Hessa firmly. ‘It was empty.’

‘The Beauvallet.’ Casey turned towards the other massive shape. ‘She looks like a wreck, but they might be in there, maybe?’

‘The Beauvallet?’ Ed looked at the huge ghost ship. ‘Casey, we are running out of time. It’ll be dawn soon, the workers arriving.’

Ignoring him, Casey walked up behind the remains of the Beauvallet. The ship towered above her. On one of the decks, a string of orange lifeboats still clung to the Beauvallet’s side.

At the base of where the ship had been carved from top to bottom, the workers had leaned a strip of steel into the mud, to create a makeshift ramp from the beach to the lowest level.

‘Come on,’ muttered Casey.

Ed and Hessa peered up dubiously.

‘Just to check,’ Casey whispered again.

Hessa stepped forward, followed slowly by Ed. In a careful silence, the three of them edged up the ramp, slime slippery in the black. Casey flicked on her torch again.

‘This way.’

At the top of the ramp, Casey moved gingerly down a corridor, into the dark of the ship. At the edges of the passageway, the old pattern of the carpet showed through, red with blue diamonds and green scrolls. Casey followed the muddy footsteps of the workers carefully.

The pace of the demolition was erratic. Lifts had been stripped out, leaving dank burrows, pitfalls running down through the ship. But there were still bright signposts on the walls, here and there. Spa. Fitness Centre. Captain’s Restaurant. Half-ripped away: Childzone.

‘There are dozens of cabins on this ship,’ murmured Ed. ‘It’s going to be impossible to search.’

‘But we have to,’ said Casey.

‘Hurry, then,’ he whispered. ‘There may be a guard.’