On the docks of Sisk Harbor in South Los, dockworkers hauled crates of goods under their foremen's direction.
Small mobile stalls sold fried fish, chips, and a drink called "goo juice"-a little sugar added to an alcoholic base, mixed with ice water. Its spicy-sweet flavor was distinctly odd.
Still, the dockworkers loved it.
Meanwhile, sailors who had spent more than ten days recuperating boarded their ships full of energy, waving goodbye to their sweethearts from the decks.
The first mates and boatswains slipped their private cargo among the goods awaiting loading. Only after watching the dockworkers carry it into the holds did they breathe a sigh of relief.
Then they headed for the captains' cabins to discuss their allotted shares of the new year's first shipment of "goods."
Everything was bustling.
Everything was orderly, too.
Mrs. Amanda stood before her own shipment, inspecting it carefully.
It was a crate of silver vine.
It should have arrived before the Wintertide Festival, but "the sailors slacking off before the holiday" had delayed its journey.
Fortunately, she had some stock on hand.
Otherwise, the reputation of Amanda's Cat Friends' Home would have been ruined.
"Very good.
Though it arrived late."
Mrs. Amanda spoke to the boatswain as she paid him.
"But it got here in the end, didn't it, madam?"
The boatswain answered with a smile.
His words sounded respectful, but his attitude was careless.
For legitimate goods like these, which offered genuinely modest profits, he would never have shown up if not for his "duties as boatswain."
After all, any sailor could have handled this.
He counted the money.
Once he confirmed the amount was correct, the boatswain showed no interest whatsoever in continuing the conversation. He turned and headed for the hold, where some valuable items he had smuggled aboard awaited