before it occurred to him that Huck was
part of the scheme. By the time he turned around, Huck was disappearing down
another street.
Quinton looked behind him. The man
took a few more steps in his direction, then realized he would never catch the
boy. He threw up his hands in disgust. Quinton kept running, zigzagging through
streets until he was out of breath. He was at the top of a small rise. At the
end of the street he could see the docks, where a ship was making final
preparations to sail. He stopped to catch his breath. As he did so, he peeled
back the package which was far too heavy to be just bread. Sure enough, it was
a freshly slaughtered piglet, its eyes wide, as if its final moment was one of
great surprise. His mouth watered as he thought about the taste of pork, which
he hadn’t had since the old lady died, and even that was just scraps. He was
holding a small feast and knew it was also worth quite a bit of money.
The men on the dock were starting
to untie the large ropes that kept a ship moored to the dilapidated pier. He
wondered where the ship was headed, then looked down at his prize. Could he
bargain with the captain for a spot on the ship? Escape the madness of the
city? His legs were already moving down the hill toward the ship before his
mind had even made a decision. He would have to hurry, because in a few
minutes, the gangplank would be withdrawn and the ship would sail out of the
harbor. Already he could see the men scurrying up the masts to start work on
unfurling the sails.
Quicker and quicker he ran. He
thought he heard someone call out to him from a great distance behind, but he
didn’t look back. He was fixated on the ship. Most of the men were boarding her
now; time was almost out. There were only three men left on the dock. One was
untying the final ropes while the others grabbed the last of the provisions
being taken aboard. He could see the captain, a tall man in his early forties,
his long, dark hair tied behind his head in a neat ponytail with a bright red
ribbon. He could make out the letters on the ship’s side. Excappare, it read.
A large, dark shape suddenly
stepped out in front of him, and he collided with it. He would have gone
sprawling, but the man had grabbed him.
“Maggot, what are you doing?” asked
the man. The voice was familiar. It was his master. It was Sands.
Quinton looked past him at the
ship, then down at the piglet. Sands looked over his shoulder and shook his
head.
“Don’t you know any better?” he
asked. Before Quinton could say anything, his heart pounding and his mind
racing to find an excuse, Sands continued. “Doesn’t Master Red eye teach you
anything?” He was upset and shaking his head in disgust. “You never steal from
the sailors. I know there are a lot of goods down on the dock, but it’s our
rule. The Fly Guild has a special agreement with the Sailors’ Guild. Once their
goods are distributed to the buyer, they are fair game. Until then, they are
off limits. Understand?”
He grabbed Quinton by the throat
and forced him to look him in those deep brown eyes once more. What he saw
frightened him. There was an edge to the man that was very dangerous, out of
control even. But for just a fleeting moment, he thought he saw a softness,
too.
Quinton tried to tell Sands he
understood, but all that came out was some garbled words because of the
chokehold he was in. Sands let go and Quinton rubbed the blood back into his
neck and gasped for air. He heard footsteps behind him.
“There you are,” said Huck, who was
out of breath. His eyes met Sands and he quickly looked down. “Master Sands,
forgive me, I didn’t know it was you. I was trying to catch up to your maggot.”
“Take him away from the docks,”
Sands said coldly. He turned his back on them and trod off down the street.
Quinton watched him go and saw the ship slide back the gangplank and pull away
from the dock, its sails starting to unfurl from the high masts. He
part of the scheme. By the time he turned around, Huck was disappearing down
another street.
Quinton looked behind him. The man
took a few more steps in his direction, then realized he would never catch the
boy. He threw up his hands in disgust. Quinton kept running, zigzagging through
streets until he was out of breath. He was at the top of a small rise. At the
end of the street he could see the docks, where a ship was making final
preparations to sail. He stopped to catch his breath. As he did so, he peeled
back the package which was far too heavy to be just bread. Sure enough, it was
a freshly slaughtered piglet, its eyes wide, as if its final moment was one of
great surprise. His mouth watered as he thought about the taste of pork, which
he hadn’t had since the old lady died, and even that was just scraps. He was
holding a small feast and knew it was also worth quite a bit of money.
The men on the dock were starting
to untie the large ropes that kept a ship moored to the dilapidated pier. He
wondered where the ship was headed, then looked down at his prize. Could he
bargain with the captain for a spot on the ship? Escape the madness of the
city? His legs were already moving down the hill toward the ship before his
mind had even made a decision. He would have to hurry, because in a few
minutes, the gangplank would be withdrawn and the ship would sail out of the
harbor. Already he could see the men scurrying up the masts to start work on
unfurling the sails.
Quicker and quicker he ran. He
thought he heard someone call out to him from a great distance behind, but he
didn’t look back. He was fixated on the ship. Most of the men were boarding her
now; time was almost out. There were only three men left on the dock. One was
untying the final ropes while the others grabbed the last of the provisions
being taken aboard. He could see the captain, a tall man in his early forties,
his long, dark hair tied behind his head in a neat ponytail with a bright red
ribbon. He could make out the letters on the ship’s side. Excappare, it read.
A large, dark shape suddenly
stepped out in front of him, and he collided with it. He would have gone
sprawling, but the man had grabbed him.
“Maggot, what are you doing?” asked
the man. The voice was familiar. It was his master. It was Sands.
Quinton looked past him at the
ship, then down at the piglet. Sands looked over his shoulder and shook his
head.
“Don’t you know any better?” he
asked. Before Quinton could say anything, his heart pounding and his mind
racing to find an excuse, Sands continued. “Doesn’t Master Red eye teach you
anything?” He was upset and shaking his head in disgust. “You never steal from
the sailors. I know there are a lot of goods down on the dock, but it’s our
rule. The Fly Guild has a special agreement with the Sailors’ Guild. Once their
goods are distributed to the buyer, they are fair game. Until then, they are
off limits. Understand?”
He grabbed Quinton by the throat
and forced him to look him in those deep brown eyes once more. What he saw
frightened him. There was an edge to the man that was very dangerous, out of
control even. But for just a fleeting moment, he thought he saw a softness,
too.
Quinton tried to tell Sands he
understood, but all that came out was some garbled words because of the
chokehold he was in. Sands let go and Quinton rubbed the blood back into his
neck and gasped for air. He heard footsteps behind him.
“There you are,” said Huck, who was
out of breath. His eyes met Sands and he quickly looked down. “Master Sands,
forgive me, I didn’t know it was you. I was trying to catch up to your maggot.”
“Take him away from the docks,”
Sands said coldly. He turned his back on them and trod off down the street.
Quinton watched him go and saw the ship slide back the gangplank and pull away
from the dock, its sails starting to unfurl from the high masts. He
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