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Squab stood on the dock, watching the sea.  Years ago he would have played in the waves breaking on the sand.  He would have scooped foam from the shore and ran through shallow water.  But now, the curve at the end of the ocean was far more alluring.  

He couldn't be still for long.  At noon, traffic always bustled through the dock: Men hauling crates of foreign silks and furs, sailors tying up ships to spend wages in brothels and inns after months at sea, children peddling wares, and women peddling something else.  It was impossible not to get caught up in the constant movement.  Squab had learned to swim in this flow of humans for four years since he was orphaned, but it was a skill he wouldn't use again soon.  

The time for begging had passed.  As had that of stealing food and cutting purses.  He was eleven years old now, nearly a man grown.  It was time to leave behind the shore.  Dead mothers and sisters wouldn't bother him at sea; their memories would be replaced by those of salt and taut sails.

There it was! The barge that would take him past that distant horizon was just there, and he could even see the first mate shouting orders to scrambling seamen.  He walked along the dock until he reached it, and prepared to clamber aboard.

"Aye!" Exclaimed a seaman behind him, grabbing his shirt.  "What boy is it that suppose' 'e can board me ship as 'e likes?" Asked the man, deep into his drink.  "Scurry back to yer hole, ye rat."

*[[Squab explained he was invited]]
*[[Squab punched the seaman's groin]]
[[Category: Rat on the Sea]]