Willow’s skiff had broken off its course. It streamed right toward the jetty. She yelled something, cupping her hands around her mouth.

Gren appeared, balancing beside Perry. “They’ve lost the rudder. They can’t steer.”

Perry knew exactly what was going to happen, and the others did too.

“Abandon ship!” Wylan yelled nearby. “Get out!”

Old Will had already pulled Willow to her feet. He took her face in his hands, issuing a frantic message Perry couldn’t hear. Then he embraced her hastily and helped her jump off the bow into the waves. Flea leaped in right after her, and then Old Will jumped last, his expression surprisingly calm.

Seconds passed in an instant. The swell caught the skiff, pushing it into a current. The boat came fishtailing, turning backward at the last moment, so the stern smashed against the rocks just ten paces away from Perry. It folded, splintering, sending pieces flying. His arms came up, shielding himself, debris and ocean spray pelting his forearms.

He blinked hard, clearing his eyes, and spotted Willow moving right toward the mix of broken wood and white water.

“Get a line out now!” Reef shouted.

Close by, Wylan threw a rope in the perfect cast of a born fisherman. Without the rope, Willow would smash against the rocks over and again, churning in the froth. With it, they had a chance of pulling her in safely.

“Willow, grab the line!” Perry yelled.

He watched her search for her grandfather, her movements jerky and frantic, and then saw her terror as she spotted Old Will farther out. A wave washed over her, and Perry’s heart stopped. Willow surfaced, coughing up water and gasping for air. She swam frantically for the rope and finally grasped it.

Perry drew as low on the rocks as he dared, strength gathering in his legs as he prepared to grab her.

When the surf surged, Wylan and Gren pulled the rope. Willow came slicing toward Perry like an arrow. She knocked him back as he caught her, her forehead cracking against his chin. Pain burst across his ribs as he fell against the rocks. He held her for an instant before Reef swept her from his arms.

“Get out of there, Peregrine!” he yelled, carrying Willow higher on the jetty.

Perry didn’t answer this time. He couldn’t leave until they had Old Will.

Wylan threw another line. It dropped near Old Will, but the fisherman struggled, swimming in place with his head tipped up, barely above the water.

“Move, Will! Swim!” Perry yelled.

Funnels lashed down, closer now, and waves that had been five and six feet high minutes ago doubled into monstrous surges that spilled over the jetty.

“Grandpa!” Willow screamed suddenly, like she knew. Like she’d had some sense of what would come next.

Old Will disappeared beneath the water.