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But they told her not to worry, that she looked like a young gentleman, and wished her luck.

She hired a hackney, and thirty minutes later, she was walking down the docks, the moon hanging low in the velvet-black sky, casting its gossamer light onto the port. Infrequent lanterns hanging from the beams of storage sheds and buildings emitted dim light that didn’t reach far into the deeply shadowed streets and alleys. The cool wind off the water ruffled Calliope’s hair at the back of her neck. Ships swayed gently in the port, their masts skeletal against the night. Rigging and pulleys creaked as dark water lapped against the weathered wood of the docks.

The air was heavy with the horrible stench of the river. The Thames always smelled so foul in summer, with the city’s human waste dumped there along with waste from mills and factories. Intertwined with this was the sweet, earthy aroma of barrels stacked high, their contents—exotic spices, rum, and tobacco—brought from far-off lands, waiting to be unloaded at the dawn’s light.

At the intersection of several shadowy alleyways, three bonneted women of questionable reputation leaned against worn brick walls, looking at her with meaning. One of them had her lips painted red, her eyes gleaming as she followed Calliope with her gaze, no doubt sure she was a man. “Lookin’ for company?” asked the woman coarsely.

Calliope shook her head and lowered her voice to resemble that of a man. “No.”

Sailors passed by her, the scent of brine clinging to them like coats. Two dockworkers were still busy at this hour as they hoisted crates onto broad shoulders, their muscles straining under the heavy load. A fishmonger rolled a barrel full of catch by her, the scent of fish so strong, her throat scratched.

A beggar sat on the corner of the street, and Calliope went into her purse and gave him several farthings. “God bless you, lad,” said the old man.

Calliope allowed herself a little victorious smile. She had managed to pass as a lad! Hopefully, by lad he meant a very young and short man…not a boy.

She needed to ask around. Chances that this man would remember something were slim, but who knew?

“Forgive me,” she said, making her voice as low as she could. “Have you been begging here for a long time?”

The man looked at her with his milky eyes, his face wrinkled with age and weather. “Yes, lad, a year at least.”

“Might you remember there were five navy ships docked nearby September of last year. One of them was right here.” She pointed at the end of the docks where there was a large merchant ship. It was docked only ten feet or so away from Portside. “Might you remember its name?”

The man chuckled. “I dunno what day’s today. Can’t recall where I was ten days ago. Don’t know nothin’ ’bout no ships.”

Calliope sighed and nodded. Perhaps she would have a better luck with the sex workers, after all. She went to the one who had spoken to her. Her sizable breasts were very white against her old red frock.

“Changed yer mind, luv?” asked the lady and ran her finger down Calliope’s coat. She smelled of stale sweat and old lavender water, no doubt as an attempt to cover her body odor.

“No, but I have a question for you.” Calliope went into her pocket and fetched a few more farthings, showing one to the woman.

“Oh.” Her eyes widened in anticipation. “What would the young sir like to know?”

“Last year September, there was a raid on Portside. Many men were press-ganged. Do you remember that night?”

The woman pinched her lips thoughtfully. “Coin first.”

Calliope nodded and handed her the coin. “Here you go. What do you remember?”

The woman shrugged. “I saw the raid, right from ’ere.”

Calliope’s heart thumped, and she straightened her shoulders. “Do you remember the names of the ships?”

The woman’s eyes narrowed at Calliope. “You’re a pretty lad…” she said. “Such big blue eyes…”

Calliope cleared her throat, forcing her voice even lower. “You’re not the first to say so. Do you remember there was a good-looking gentleman carried unconscious onto a ship?”

“Most of ’em were struggling. Some were knocked out, yes. I saw all of ’em being brought to the ship docked right close.”

Calliope’s pulse thumped in her neck. “What was the name of the ship?”

The woman’s eyebrows rose sadly. “I can’t read, luv.”

Calliope cursed. “Can you ask your friends if they remember?”

The woman winked. “They will all need a coin, luv.”

Calliope nodded and handed her the coins. She walked with the woman to the other two sex workers, but neither of them remembered anything. Disappointed, Calliope gave them more farthings, feeling sorry for the women.