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The Seafarer Inn

Jacob woke on an unfamiliar floor, his head thick, swirling. With his first pay as a farm labourer he’d visited the local inn, sampled the fine ale served there. Other revellers slapped his back, called him mate and bought him drinks. At just sixteen he was soon giddy with a merriment previously unknown.

Cold water splashed Jacob’s face, sobered him. A sailor clutching an empty bucket barked an order. ‘Report up on deck, we’re setting sail.’

‘But I’m a farmer,’ Jacob protested.

‘Check your pockets,’ the sailor snarled.

Jacob pulled out a silver coin. The King’s shilling.

‘You’re a seafarer now!’



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