I like to survey the fat ships at the harbor, they look like lumbering whales on some dreadful midnight-colored sea, the harbor bells and dockworkers all carrying their bales and twine, sounds of broken glass and a scuffle ensues, how the fistfights are sporadic, violent and often over as quick as they start, a stalwart man, a steward flinging people off each other like an elephant abusing irritating rabbits, the pickpockets navigating the crowd and taking advantage of the fracas, threading a needle and how no one knows when they've been robbed as they huff and puff at someone else, red noses, red knuckles and bloody clothes wrinkled with rage, furious anger as the pickpocket will shout epithets and raw encouragement that he was right, the other fella wronged him and that wasn't right, welcome to the docks, don't let this little bit of unpleasantness sour you, let me buy you a drink, Sir.