Then, over the headset, Melnick swore. “Oh my God,” he said. “It’s a shipwreck.” Eighty-five metres below their boat sat a large wooden ship, in waters so crystal clear that the image on screen looked like a toy ship preserved in a bottle. The ship was almost perfectly intact—with one catch. Over every part of its exterior, the distinctive yellow-brown-black shells of quagga mussels formed a solid crust, including over the stern where the boat should have borne her name. Half-sunk into the sand nearby lay a ceramic teacup, without so much as a crack.