From Glen to Mud

The family has scarcely left the pier when five young hoodlums rush from an alley. Her father and her mother are knocked into the mud, their bundles torn away as they lie too weak to resist.

Two boys seize Brigid against the roadside wall. Their rough hands tug at her clothing before nearby shouts make them falter; the abuse is obscured by the sudden crowd gathering around them.

Her father lies conscious but bloodied beside the overturned pail, while her mother curls around the recommendation and bread, battered and gasping in the street mud.

A fishmonger points toward the watch post, and a woman cries that she knows the boys by sight. The stolen bundles hang from one hoodlum's arm as the alley offers their only escape.

The two boys release Brigid, but the circle remains tight. Behind them, her parents cannot rise, and from the direction of the watch post comes the measured ring of approaching boots.

Her cry cuts across the street and reaches the watch post. The crowd surges inward, while the hoodlums shrink beneath accusing faces and the hard approach of uniformed boots.

A broad, middle-aged watchman, a sturdy man with ruddy cheeks and a broken nose, with a weathered face, close-cropped gray hair, and a blue wool coat pushes through the circle. One hand rests on his cudgel as he surveys the mud and scattered belongings.

The hoodlum with the bundles tries to edge backward, but a fishmonger blocks the alley. The stolen things are now plainly visible, and several onlookers point at them.

Her shout has secured the watchman's intervention, but its public force carries a price: every eye now fixes on Brigid, and she must give her account before the crowd and surrender the morning's hoped-for work to the inquiry.

Her testimony is brief and orderly, but the frightened crowd's voices overlap it. Elias Pike glances from the injured parents to the stolen bundles, impatient with every detail.

The hoodlum with the bundles twists toward the alley. Pike steps across his path and catches him by the collar before he can bolt.

Pike answers with one hard blow to the boy's head. The hoodlum crumples unconscious, and the stolen bundles drop into the mud again.

Brigid O'Rourke leaves Portsmouth harbor behind and arrives at The Castle & Sabre.

The Castle & Sabre crouches beneath a painted wooden sign, its windows glowing through the afternoon damp. Brigid reaches the threshold bruised, bloodied, and unsteady, while the smell of peat smoke, ale, and boiled onions rolls into the street.

A broad-shouldered middle-aged woman, pale-skinned with a small scar beside her left eye, comes from behind the bar. Her weathered face, graying auburn hair, and dark brown wool dress mark her as the keeper; she stops sharply at the sight of Brigid.

The keeper unlatches the door wider and drags a plain stool near the hearth. Behind her, two patrons fall silent, n2, a young man with a lean build, sandy hair, and a brown waistcoat by the hearth, and n3, an elderly woman with a stooped frame, silver hair, and a russet shawl near the window, watching the blood on Brigid's sleeve and the mud darkening her dress.

The stool waits beside the fire, and the keeper sets a basin upon the table. The warm room offers shelter, but every eye remains fixed on Brigid, awaiting her answer.