((link)) | Thebaypirate

Croft’s men were three ex-Navy bruisers. Eli had a cracked flare gun, a encyclopedic knowledge of shallows, and a reputation for being exactly where the charts said he couldn't be.

Eli leaned on Mistress’s rail, a tarnished compass hanging from his neck. "The Bay’s real law is older than your paper. It says: the tide gives, and the tide takes. But it never sells. " thebaypirate

Eli had found the wreck two weeks ago using declassified sonar data and a weather anomaly that had shifted the sandbar. But he hadn't raised the chest yet. Because he wasn't alone. Croft’s men were three ex-Navy bruisers

And Elias Vane? He sailed south for the winter, his online handle unchanged, his compass pointing toward the next wreck. On his message board signature, he’d written a line he’d carved into Mistress’s helm: "The Bay’s real law is older than your paper

"The Bay has its own laws," Croft said, stepping onto Eli’s dock as the fog rolled in. "Finders keepers is for children. You’ll sell me the coordinates."

Eli smiled in the dark. "No," he said, raising a dripping dive bag onto his deck. "I’m the Bay pirate. And the Bay protects its own."

The fog over Chesapeake Bay was thick as stolen wool, muffling the world into shades of grey. To the tourists docked at the Annapolis marina, it was a nuisance. To Elias "Eli" Vane, it was a cloak.