Harry thanked him and walked on, lingering a little to look at the market stalls that were clustered around the great church in the centre of town, and then continued towards another equally ancient church, St Mary’s, which bounded narrow and dark cobbled entries; Scale Lane, Bishop Lane, Chapel Lane, the space between the buildings only just wide enough to take a cart or small carriage. He was curious enough to wonder what was at the other end of these lanes, for they were busy with people and handcarts and some of the men were wearing clogs which clattered on the cobbles, so he followed them.

At the bottom another narrow road ran crosswise, and on the other side even narrower entries led to the waterway, which they’d crossed further up before entering the town. He was intrigued to see that, narrow though it was, the road was lined with some very grand buildings, and he stopped a man who was carrying a sack over his shoulders to enquire its name.

‘High Street,’ the workman answered. ‘This was once ’main street of ’town afore new building started and ’town began to spread. All of ’bigwigs used to live down here in these houses, but they didn’t like ’stink o’ blubber when whaling reigned and they moved out into ’country. So ’rest of us live here now. Down yonder’ – he nodded to the smaller alleyways and seemed happy to talk – ‘we call ’em staithes; they belong to ’shipping merchants who use these buildings as offices cos they’ve got Old Harbour right on their doorstep for loading barges. We’ve got a ring o’ docks now, and ’road leads on to Wincomlee and other villages, except they’re not villages any more. You a stranger here?’

‘I am,’ Harry said, confused by all the information. ‘I’m looking for work. Somebody said I should go to Wincomlee.’

‘Aye, it’s not far.’ The man told him to retrace his steps, look for the New Dock and then head for North Bridge. ‘Plenty o’ work if you’re prepared for hard graft, but don’t expect to mek your fortune, cos you won’t.’ He shouldered the sack up higher. ‘Believe me, I know. If you can mek ends meet you’ll be doing well.’

He lifted his hand and departed; Harry was tempted to walk down the staithes to look at the river, and even though he heard a church clock strike and reminded himself why he was there, he slipped down to look over into the busy waterway. It was low tide and the harbour was packed with barges, tugs and other workboats with barely a finger space between them; men were swarming over them, jumping from one to another, loading and unloading, and bustling in and out of the tall warehouses on either side of the narrow river. Harry about-turned and started on his way to find North Bridge and hopefully employment.