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berth foreman’s eye. I’d kicked the foreman once after he’d pinched me nowhere proper, so I walked away, shivering in the rain as the last of the sun’s warmth faded.
    Where could I go? I retrieved my hidden basket and sat in the dry lee of the ferry office, half hidden behind a drooping hibiscus bush. On the lake, now-empty fishing boats packed the canals leading to the docks, and two ferries with more people looking for work and rooms waited for the dockmaster’s signal to come in. One was an overloaded river ferry from Verlatta, its flag whipping around on its stern. The other was a small lake ferry that took folks from the docks to Coffee Isle, the largest of the farm islands. Every few seconds a sharp crack echoed across the lake as waves knocked the ferries into each other. The urge to scream “go away” at the refugees stuck in my throat. Lot of good screaming would do me.
    A screech ripped across the lake, and for a confused heartbeat I thought maybe I had screamed. I dropped my basket and it rolled into the rain, gaining speed down the sloped bank toward the lake’s edge. Thunder rumbled as I scrambled away from my dry spot under the awning. My feet slipped in the mud and I fell to my knees, but I caught the basket before it rolled into the water.
    Another grinding squeal, like pigs gone to slaughter. The smaller ferry dipped hard to starboard, its side crushed against the bigger ferry. Muffled screams mingled with the splattering rain. The wind howled, and another crack rang out.
    I clutched my basket to my chest as a chunk of deck broke off and plunged into the churning waves. Crates followed. Lightning flashed, illuminating people falling into the water. Saints be merciful! I turned, scanning the shore, though I couldn’t say what I hoped to find. Rescue boats? Lifelines?
    The crowds on the docks surged forward, but none did more than gawk and point.
    “Do something!” I shouted. Wind swallowed my words—not that anyone was listening anyway. The ferries chewed at each other. Passengers staggered across the decks, slipping on the wet wood. Waves and wind slammed the smaller ferry farther under the water. It hit the canal wall and bounced off. Waves sloshed against the walls, the ferries, the shore, getting higher and higher.
    And still, people did nothing.
    Dropping my basket, I raced to the ferry office and banged on the door.
    “Help! People need help out here!”
    No one answered. Had they left already to do whatever they did in this situation? They had to have a plan; they just had to.
    I raced along the bank back to the shoreline, slipping on grass and trampling reeds. Lightning lit the sky, silhouetting three people as they fell overboard and slipped into the black, swirling water. Before their heads reappeared, the ferry swung back, blocking the surface. Wood ground against rock. I tried not to picture bodies crushed between them, but I couldn’t picture anything else.
    Off to my left, a smaller fishing boat crashed through the waves, fighting its way toward the sinking ferries. The crew struggled with oars never meant to propel the boat through rough water. Waves hit the side and the boat listed heavy to port, and kept tilting. I held my breath, stepping closer as if I could pull the boat upright from the shore.
    Wind ripped along the docks and the boat righted itself, but its angle said it had taken on too much water to stay afloat. Half the crew was already swimming, fighting against the current dragging them deeper into the lake. Swells chose victims randomly, lifting one man toward shore, sucking another under the darkness.
    “Hang on,” I hollered, squishing through the reeds. Pale hands shot above the water beyond my reach and were swept away. Red flashed amid white foamy waves, but the bloody arms weren’t close enough to grab. Screaming. More screaming. So much screaming.
    I had to get closer! Water swirled around my waist, tugging at my legs, trying to drag me out where the