We called him The Walrus because he seemed to be more moustache than man. It shook and bounced from side to side as the Captain barked orders at us all. We have all been awake for nearly a full day. I can feel every minute of those hours in every inch of my body. My arms are weak. My hands so cold and numb they can barely grasp the ropes to heave in stay sails. My knees feel like stone. My lungs are ice. The wind burn has flushed my cheeks and salt has collected in my hair. It must be close to midnight now and in the depths of winter the air seems to be in some constant state of rainfall.

The Captain has been driving us hard, all the way down through the North Sea. Since leaving the port of Reykjavik a few days ago we have battled storms and gales and a very near miss with an iceberg. We have all been driven like the dogs of hell, day and night since we weighed anchor. The moustache had barked another order. I grabbed another set of stays and let loose one of the forward Jibs. We were slowing down now. Coming in to dock near enough to Billingsgate. We used to trade a little in fish and this would be out first port of call when coming home. Recently however it was a rare site to see those huge stone walls. And rarer still now that the rest of the area has grown so much. Workhouses and factories. Smokestacks and coal chimneys. Warehouses and dry docks. The area has changed even in the few years since I had set foot on English soil. Steam ships lined the piers and there were few if any sails left. We were something of a travelling oddity these days.

As the ship slowed, the docks pilot and our helmsman eased us into a berth near the end of a pier. We threw ropes to quay hands and were soon made fast against the stonework. Our gangway was dropped and the Pilot turned back to the Captain with a flourish. “Welcome to the Port of London Captain Kingston. I hope you enjoy your, however brief, stay. Adieu.” With a tip of his hat he vanished into the crowds. I was amazed there even was crowds at this time of night. I thought normal folk had the luxury of sleeping during the darker hours. A luxury we could rarely, if ever, afford ourselves.

“Gentlemen.” The Walrus turned his attention back to us as three of his personal men, The Seals, started bringing baggage and cloaks up from below. “We have made port here so we can undergo repairs to the keel. We will spend two nights at this berth and at first light on the second day we will set sail again.” This seemed odd for many reasons. As the ships Bosun I should have been told about this. I don’t remember us taking damage since leaving New York over a month ago. And there was a strong shipwright in Reykjavik. It was not uncommon for the Captain to play things close to the chest but we all seemed to believe that London was out destination. Not a stop off. Where was he taking us this time? “Due to this work, you will all disembark and return at dawn on the third day.”

“Sir we haven’t taken any damage. Why wasn’t I informed of this?” I stood forward before thinking the better of it. The other three of the Walrus’s Seals were already ushering the rest of the crew off with baggage and cloaks.

“Jackson, come forward.” The ships carpenter stepped out of the crowd that was about to disembark. He wasn’t a bright one that young lad. “I told you about the repairs that needed doing aye?” Jackson looked puzzled but seemed to agree. “You will come below and help with the repairs then. I was setting to let you a few days landside, but Mr Swain here seems it prudent that you remain aboard.”

The hulking First Mate escorted Jackson down the main staircase, into the belly of the ship. It was better than nothing. Hopefully he doesn’t get into too much trouble. Either way, I had other business to attend to. I was finally back in London. And there was someone I needed to find. A little girl I had been charged to protect. I hadn’t heard from her family in some time but that is perfectly normal. It’s hard to keep constant contact when I have no idea where I will be next. Or even where I am now.

I shouldered my pack and descended onto the busy quay. The ship and the sea to my back I headed to find a place to rest my head for the night. First thing tomorrow I would begin my search. There seemed to be some unseen hand in this timing. The life in our little ship borne world was becoming worse by the day. The Walrus’s reign of terror perpetrated by the Seals and The Monster of a First Mate was nigh unbearable. What little hope we had of returning to our normal life rested with a little girl and the need for her to believe in mermaids.