Chapter 212: The Docks

Promptly, Finn was directed to the docks by a young worker the boss had assigned. The assignment had been delivered with a knowing smirk that Finn noted but didn’t comment on.

The young man silently led Finn through the organized chaos of the docks. Through the hectic hustle and bustle of ships unloading goods, loading cargo, being cleaned and washed, being anchored to piers. Crews shouting to each other. Cranes lifting cargo that swung precariously over the water. The smell of salt, tar, fish, and unwashed bodies all mixing together.

He observed everything with a slight smile as the young worker led him across the entire length of the docks, across multiple sections of what Finn could only call the true heart of Hoshin Bay itself. Vast numbers of workers swarmed over ships, on the docks, everywhere, all moving with purpose and diligence.

He could see why Kelvin from the cart earlier had been so proud. Even as someone originally from Earth, someone who’d seen photographs of massive modern ports with their shipping containers and mechanized cranes, Finn was amazed by just how long the docks stretched. They seemed to go on forever, curving along the natural bay in a crescent that had to span miles. It was no joke when the locals claimed this was the largest dock in the world. For this era and this level of technology, the scale was genuinely impressive.

They arrived at nearly the furthest end, past the busiest sections where the largest merchant vessels clustered, past the fishing fleet areas where the smell of fish became almost overpowering, all the way to a quieter section where the dock seemed to transition from commercial hub to something else.

And there Finn saw it. The same ship he’d seen in the painting, anchored solidly with wooden platforms built around it.

The Tidebreaker.

Up close, it was even more impressive than the painting had depicted, though also clearly in worse condition. The hull showed signs of age and neglect, but the bones of it, the fundamental structure, was still very solid and well-maintained.

Isn’t this like one of those ship museums then? Finn thought, drawing the parallel to preserved historical vessels he’d seen back on Earth. But as they got closer he spotted a few people moving around on the docks, fixing parts of the ship with hammers and tools.

So they were attempting restoration after all.

The young man who’d led him here walked up to someone who had paused his work to observe them coming. The man was perhaps in his forties, with the weathered face of someone who’d spent decades under sun and salt spray. His hands were calloused, his posture spoke of authority, and he had the bearing of a veteran who’d seen everything the sea could throw at workers.

The young guide exchanged a few words with him in a low voice, too quiet for Finn to hear clearly from where he stood. Not long after, the weathered man glanced at Finn in assessment.

But Finn wasn’t even looking at him. He stood languidly a few paces back, staring straight up at the mast of the ship with a lazy smile on his face that suggested he found something amusing about the whole situation.

Right up there, perched on the lookout tower on the main mast, a woman stood. Her blonde hair fluttered wildly in the high winds that were stronger at that elevation. She was staring down at him blankly, just as he was looking up at her, though his expression held that faint smile while hers remained unreadable.

It was the same woman who’d stormed out of the boss’s office earlier, cursing like a sailor. Finn recognized her immediately.

The weathered man called Finn’s attention, his voice gruff. “You. Get over here.”

Finn broke eye contact with the blonde woman and headed forward with unhurried steps. The young worker who’d brought him gave a quick nod to the weathered man and departed without ceremony, clearly glad to be done with his task.

The moment Finn was close enough, the man immediately began to delve into a tirade of questions. Simple questions really. Things that were standard for those seeking to work at the docks.

But the more he asked the more increasingly frustrated he became.

“You ever worked on a ship before?”

“No.”

“Ever done any dock work? Loading, unloading, maintenance?”

“No.”

“Any experience at all with anything related to the sea? Fishing? Net repair? Sail mending? Anything?”

“No.”

The man’s jaw clenched. “Then what in the depths are you doing here?”

“Of course I’m here to work. I’m smart and I can learn on the job,” Finn confidently said, as if the complete lack of relevant experience was a minor detail hardly worth mentioning.

The man wasn’t having any of it. His face reddened and he cursed, calling out the boss’s name directly with clear exasperation. “What the hell was Murdo thinking? Why did he accept you at all, not to talk of sending you all the way here?” He gestured at the Tidebreaker and the restoration work in progress. “This isn’t a place for green boys with no skills to learn on the job!”

He began to shake his head, already dismissing Finn. “I can’t have you here. You’ll have to go back and—”

“He can stay.” A voice cut him off, clear and authoritative even from the deck high above.

The weathered man’s head snapped up. He looked from the docks to the deck of the ship where the blonde woman from before was standing at the railing, one hand resting casually on the weathered wood. Her hair continued to whip around her face in the wind, but her posture was relaxed, confident.

The man frowned, clearly unhappy with the interruption. “Miss Vara—”

“My father sent him here,” Vara interrupted. “And he seems interesting.” She paused, her eyes still on Finn even as she addressed the weathered man. “He stays.”

The man opened his mouth to argue, his expression suggesting he had several very good reasons why this was a terrible idea.

Vara spoke again before he could get a word out. “Send him to the oakum picking. He can handle that with no experience.”

Then she turned and walked away casually, as if it was something insignificant and she’d only happened to be passing by when she made the decision. Already, she was barking out to someone else on the deck, criticizing something about their work with the same blunt, no-nonsense tone her father had. “That caulking is sloppy! Do it again and do it right this time!”

The weathered man looked back at Finn, clearly frustrated and displeased. Finn on the other hand, simply watched languidly, as if whether he got the job or not didn’t bother him in the slightest.

The man sighed in resignation, then turned and called out to someone working nearby. “Oi! Get someone to lead this one to the oakum station and show him what to do!”

A younger man, maybe in his late twenties, climbed down from the deck of the ship and approached with a curious expression. He sized Finn up with a single glance that took in the clean appearance, the lack of calluses, the bearing that didn’t match someone seeking dock work.

But he just gestured for Finn to follow without comment, leading him away from the Tidebreaker toward a less glamorous section of the work area.

As Finn followed behind the young man, he glanced back and caught the gaze of the blonde woman still on him.

But as if she’d never expected he’d feel her gaze, her eyes widened fractionally, then she looked away.

Heh… Finn chuckled internally. It seems this place is even more interesting than I thought…

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