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Eakins watched for a few moments, then melted back into the jungle.

The attack by the rats and crabs swept across half of the cleared space. Then, as they came closer, the men were able to pick their targets with more accuracy. Nothing was able to get closer than twenty yards. And when Recetich shot down the bird of paradise, the attack began to falter.

“You know,” Drake said, “I think we’re going to be all right.”

“Could be,” said Sorensen. “I don’t understand what the Quedak is trying to accomplish. He knows we can’t be taken like this. I should think—”

“Hey!” one of the men called out. “Our boat!”

They turned and saw why the Quedak had ordered the attack. While it had occupied their attention, Drake’s dog had swum out to the ketch and gnawed through the anchor line. Unattended, the ketch was drifting before the wind, moving toward the reef. They saw it bump gently, then harder. In a moment it was heeled hard over, stuck in the coral.

There was a burst of static from the walkie-talkie. Sorensen held it up and heard the Quedak say, “The ketch isn’t seriously damaged. It’s simply immobilized.”