The Monster Hunter Read Online Free Page A

beside the hospital. His skin was as dark asnight and his beard was full and speckled with grey. The driver sniffed the air and at once Ben was reminded how the docks smelt in comparison to the inland home in which he had grown up. Even the smell of the salt-heavy air and the churning waves of the ocean were lost behind the smells of the hot tar that was used to seal the boats and the sweat of so many hard-working dockers. The smell of soap, however, was suspiciously absent. Ben felt his nose screw up and was glad to see the driver’s do likewise – he hoped that all of the Empire did not smell like this.
    His musings were interrupted by the approach of the warehouse foreman. He was very thin and well dressed, although he wore a worn green apron to protect his clothes. His features were friendly, although his facial hair had been trimmed in a way that made his face almost triangular in shape. His eyes were hidden behind simple wire-framed glasses. He glanced at a shipping list in his hand and counted the crates before stopping with his pen resting on Ben’s head.
    â€˜And what is this?’ he said with a theatrical humour to his voice that gave Ben the impression only the man himself got the joke.
    â€˜This is supercargo,’ said the driver, with a heavily accented voice. ‘You have received conformation, I am assured of this.’
    The triangular-faced man bristled as if he was not used to being spoken to in such a way by an underling. ‘I was assuming that you also received our reply that we have no room for supercargo.’
    The two men looked at the boy for a long time as the cart was emptied of crates behind them. It was the driver who spoke first. ‘I have unloaded – he is your problem now.’ And without stopping to listen to the triangular man’s protests, which were many, he remounted his cart and drove off through the crowds.
    Ben looked up at the man beside him, who sighed heavilyand without looking down at the boy headed back towards the warehouse gates. He paused only once when he realised the boy was not following
    â€˜Come on then – we need to find you a boat,’ he said tiredly, beckoning Ben to follow.

    The man’s office was small and one wall was completely lined from floor to ceiling with tiny square drawers all carefully labelled with the names of different tea plantations. His desk was the loveliest piece of carved ebony and all that sat upon it was a giant ledger and a delicate bone-china tea set. The room was a nice escape from the smells and bustle of the dock. There was a distinct smell of wood and cinnamon.
    The triangular-faced man sat quietly reading the ledger, the large window behind him turning his stooped form into a shadow where the reflected light of his glasses gave him round friendly eyes preventing the shadow from appearing sinister. Ben’s eyes were drawn to the view beyond the window as the masts of ships drifted by, sails billowing as they took to the ocean or jostled for space in the port. The larger steamships were being pulled from the dock by smaller boats and gave Ben the impression of small children trying to tug a reluctant father away from the tavern and home for lunch.
    â€˜There’s a slow boat leaving tomorrow. It needs a galley lad.’ The shadow seemed to move as if Ben was now the greater object of attention rather than the shipping ledger. ‘Can you peel a potato?’
    Ben focused back on the shadow, not really seeing the figure before him but assuming fingers were steepled before thetriangular face to make the speaker appear more educated than the tanned boy before him, he nodded.
    â€˜Do you speak, lad?’ the shadow asked, a note of concern edging into the well educated voice, thick with the accent of northern England.
    â€˜Not much,’ Ben replied smartly, wanting to be as honest as he could. He didn’t mind the triangle-faced man’s hesitation - he was just doing his job,