Leo looked back at the model. The tiny deck, the coiled lines, the brass bell. “What happened to them?”

“Guano?” Leo wrinkled his nose.

Elias chuckled, a dry, sea-rasped sound. “That’s because it was. Every clipper that ever sailed was running from something—or toward something faster than anyone else.”

He led Leo around the model to see the stern—elaborate, gilded, almost baroque. “Look. Sharp in front, fancy behind. Like a lady running with her hair on fire. They carried tea from China—the first ships home each season got double the price. They carried wool from Australia. Ice from Norway. Guano from Peru. Anything that had to be now .”