This is the 39th installment of a 100-day challenge to write a new vignette every morning.
Nancy was proud that she ran a tight shipwreck. She led a team of 15—not counting the independent captain who got them out here. She could’ve rented a boat and hired a captain, but in the end, this left more money for equipment.
The chattering among her team stopped as they reached the site. Nancy climbed up onto a pair of crates to address them.
“We’ll take what we can get,” she said, “but remember why we’re here.”
The crew nodded but said nothing, and she felt suddenly out of place up on the crates. What had she thought—that they’d chant and cheer? This was a group of historians with a sprinkle of entrepreneurs. Of course they wouldn’t cheer.
The ship bobbed as the divers donned their gear. Nancy hovered around them but tried to keep her mouth shut. She’d hired the best for a reason. They didn’t need her art-history degree chiming in; they knew their objective.
A storm had stolen the little golden sculpture, and then the waves had claimed it as their own. No one had laid eyes on it in centuries, and Nancy intended to be the first—well, fifth after the divers.
She sent them off with well wishes, and she waited on the deck, wringing her hands.
Miles Away 