Free The Dreamer by May Nicole Abbey Page B

feel comfortable.
    Masculine? He thought I was masculine?
    I looked at him out of the corner of my eye, a frown on my face.
    *** *** ***
    The first thing that hit me when we arrived in London was the odor. It covered the port like an invisible barrier that knocked one to the floor when one drew too close. It’s true, some of the sailors on the ship smelled, too. But with the wind constantly blowing, and fresh swimming water always available, it was nothing like the shore.
    And the dirt! Coal dust and grime covered everything, from the streets to the stray animals. Raw sewage lay in the gutters, and one had to traverse the streets with strict caution.
    We had to board a longboat to get to land. The ship, the Captain explained, sat too low in the water to get very close to shore. Many of the men stayed aboard the ship, including Mr. Finley. They would remain there until the cargo was unloaded and counted.
    The port was a bustle of activity, and we were nearly swamped with people as soon as we touched our feet to the earth. Beggars asking for money, merchants selling wares and food, and prostitutes selling … well ….
    Even for a modern woman, it was all rather shocking. The captain took me by the elbow and pulled me through the throng and towards a waiting coach as I stared around me in awe. On the way, a small child, a girl with dirty gold curls, held out her hand and said, “Tuppence, Captain?” and the captain called her by name and gave her a coin.
    He helped me step up into the rickety contraption, and I felt it would tumble or collapse at any moment. There were two benches, one on either side of the small cabin, and I chose one arbitrarily. The captain followed me in and sat opposite me.
    The carriage jerked into motion. “Is the plight of the poor like this throughout the city or is it restricted to this port?” I asked him. “Where do people in need find food, shelter? What is law enforcement like in the area?”
    The captain’s brows came down in the way I knew meant he was concerned, though he looked angry. “The police are corrupt, and the poor are oppressed and forgotten.”
    I turned from the window. Perhaps after the treasure is found, I might do something here.
    I heard the heavy ringing of bells, and I stuck my head out the window in time to see a small, bricked church, complete with a steeple reaching up to heaven. It was humble and unremarkable, but it seemed significant somehow and I drew back into the carriage thoughtfully.
    I looked at the captain and said lightly, “Finley’s afraid he’s going to hell to pay for all the things he’s done wrong. All his sins .”
    “I know,” he answered noncommittally.
    The bells stopped their ringing as I watched him. “What do you believe, Captain?”
    “I think he’s too hard on himself.”
    “Yet you don’t trust him.”
    “I know his weakness. I don’t deny he is imperfect. But he’s done a lot of things right, too. I’ll never forget what he did for me.”
    “For you?”
    “Yes. He raised me,” he answered shortly. “And stayed with me when I ventured on my own.”
    “Raised you? What do you mean?”
    “I mean he raised me. After my parents died.”
    I could only shake my head. “ Finley a pirate? How is that possible? He’s so nervous and … weak. How could he choose such a daring, dangerous job for his career?”
    The captain shrugged. “He had been an orphan, too. Grew up in work houses. He and my father met on a ship and became friends, and he followed my father.”
    I watched him carefully as he spoke. “How is it you never turned to piracy, raised by them, even born of them as you were?”
    He shook his head. “I don’t know. I just couldn’t.”
    “It would have been perfectly reasonable for you to turn in that direction, considering your upbringing.”
    “Just because it’s reasonable doesn’t make it right,” he replied dryly.
    The church bells began to ring again. They had a pleasant tone, light and engaging, like