Other women turned to watch as Watters stumbled by, his clothes immediately betraying him as a seafaring man, and so one of their own.
"What ship, sailor? Make your berth with us!" The crimp"s face was bright with promise, his intent as vicious as any predator.
Watters ran on, past bright-windowed shops that displayed marine goods, clothing and drink in every variety from porter to jigger gin. Advertisements for Grand Concerts plastered the doors of respectable looking dance-halls with large men standing sentinel outside. Beside them were seedy dram-shops whose fronts were painted with pictures of sailors dancing with buxom women whose living likenesses waited outside to catch the eye and wallet of the passing seamen.
Reeling with exhaustion, Watters leaned against the corner of a publi
