Chapter 5The cry of seagulls mingled with the shrill roar of port sirens.
Adrien, sleep-deprived above all, wiped the sweat from his forehead and bent down to pick up another crate. As usual, the Boston port was bustling with life; shouts and curses were ubiquitous. Sailors, fishermen and dock workers – like Collins himself – had been slaving from the crack of dawn.
One of the cranes, the huge and bulky port cranes, had some kind of a breakdown. Adrien, along with a few other workers, was assigned as a temporary replacement; his arms, shoulders and muscles would help move the goods.
According to the foreman, everything was supposed to be fixed before noon, but he already knew that nothing would come of it. He did not know what had happened. The crane just did not work. It did not want t
