Chapter 3: Eurydice

A small bum boat was tied at the far edge of the wharf, attended by a short, squat man, standing facing away, hands on hips, watching the line of dark clouds as they gathered on the horizon out to sea. He scratched his head, then his hip, shook his leg, looked behind him, then turned to face the sea again. John and Iris approached behind him. The man turned, saw John there, looked away, then looked back again. His eyes were small, set to either side of a long nose, giving him a nervous, mouse-like appearance, which was only exaggerated by his constant movement. As they drew closer behind him, he turned away once more.

John approached. “Excuse me,” he said, “you’re not from the Eurydice, are you?”

“That I am,” said the man, turning suddenly, quick eyes darting rapidly up and down John’s frame. “You with us? Mighty fine trip ahead, I say. Little small, you, skinny, but that’s what they said about me, hey hey, and I put in my share of work to put the mate to shame, I say. You’ll do fine, captain’s a bit of a bugger, but you’ve not heard me say that!” With this he laughed loudly, two bursts coming in rapid succession. “You’re small,” he looked at John. “Small. But I expect you know your way through the cords all right, I expect. We’ll be out of this stinking heap of a town and into the blue water a’fore you know, and—”

“We’re the passengers,” John said loudly, interrupting the man.