Those ships are very, very decayed, much more so than their metal counterparts. Seems all this time in the desert has done a number on them. The wood has been bleached near-white by the sun, and jut up from the ground like ribcages, wrapped around what would have been a deck in the center. What writing was inscribed on the outside of the hull has long since been worn away, but some determined poking around in the rotted center will turn up some fragments of wood that fit together like puzzle pieces, which are able to be mended, although not read. They're a strange, nigh-unrecognizable language, with flowery characters.

While there isn't any lingering magic, there is a familiar air about the ship she ends up finding. It feels sort of papery on the skin, tastes a little bit like the air does when she's doing the seances.

Deep in the piles of half-rotted timber, if she's really determined to root around in there (there will be a lot of splinters and definitely a couple nests of scorpions to get through), Cece will find:
-a golden device with a hinge, which can eventually be pried open to reveal some kind of spinning disk, covered in the same sorts of flowery writing
-a long, rusted tube, smaller at one end than at the other
-a book, leather-bound and tied together. Most of the pages have rotted away or been torn out, and insects crawl through the spine, but careful turning reveals some pages with more of that flowery writing, mostly worn away but legible with some careful mending.