Mercedes loved ports. He loved the vibrancy of the place, the movement, the noise, the taste of the sea mingled with spice, wine, silk, iron. Unlike London or Paris, to him, this place was the centre of the world.
He glanced about the street, and dusted off his hands. He had time while the ship's cargo (Indian spices, tea, silks and one or two home-sick travellers) was unloaded to talk and chat. In fact, after a month at sea, he was rather looking forward to talking to anyone who wasn't one of his employees.
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