Calvin’s eyes became narrow slits. “I didn’t feel safe all the time. I felt safe with you.”

“But lately we have been together all the time.” Honoré grinned again. “You are safe from me. I am not the proud owner of any useful knack and I carry no weapon and I am too busy studying humanity to bother harming any individual human. But being safe from me does not mean you are safe with me.”

“Don’t lecture me, you French fart.”

“You praise me too much. Garlic, wine, onion soup, rich cheese, these combine to make the fart française the best of all possible farts. Voltaire said so.”

Calvin didn’t laugh. “Look,” he said. “Look at that slave. Got nothing to do.”

“You have a sharp eye. He is waiting.”

“Is he your man?”

“I observe what men do. I do not pretend to be able to tell whether two Black men, one seen from behind, the other from the face, both from a distance, and their clothes identical to the costume of half the slaves in Camelot, are in fact the same man.”

“You saying it’s him?”

Honoré sighed. “I say I cannot tell.”

“Then just say it. Don’t get into those damned fancy orations.”

Honoré ignored him. Staggering and squinting, their backs bent, their eyes searching, the first Blacks were appearing on the deck. “It is a slave ship.”

“Well we knew that,” said Calvin.

“We ‘knew’ it about three other ships today that had no slaves aboard.”

“We knew this was a slave ship because look at the White men on the deck with padded sticks. They wouldn’t need those to load crates.”

“If only I were as clever as you,” said Honoré.

The Black they had been looking at before, who might or might not be the one Honoré had seen taking puppets, came forward with two buckets of water and a basket. His head down, so as not to look any of the White dock-workers in the eye, he said something to the dock foreman, who waved him over to the foot of the gangplank.

“No, you dumb buck!” The foreman’s voice carried clear over to where Calvin and Honoré were waiting. “Wait back there! If you start backing them up on the gangplank then they crowd each other right off into the water! Stupid, stupid, stupid.” By the time he was through with his list of stupids, the Black man with the buckets had bowed and ducked his head long enough to get to the indicated waiting place.

“He knew,” said Honoré.

“What did he know?”

“He knew where to stand,” said Honoré. “He was already walking there before the man pointed.”

“Why would he get the foreman angry?”

“He got the foreman to think he was stupid,” said Honoré.

“The foreman started out thinking he was stupid. They think all Black people are stupid.”

“Do they?” said Honoré. “They think some are more stupid than others.”

The first slaves, hobbled and joined by ankle chains, staggered and clanked down the gangplank, then headed straight for the water. There was a great deal of spilling and quiet cursing from the waterboy. Calvin used his doodlebug to get a closer view. Sure enough, each slave was handing over some small item, made of scraps of cloth and splinters of wood and bits of iron.