Gravesend, London.

Ships creaked and groaned and spoke to Charlie Swanson in a language only he could understand. He believed that ships could talk, in fact he was convinced of it. Each ship was alive, possessed a soul and had a story to tell. Some ships were happy ships, others were sad, and within a short time of being below decks in the hold, or sliding through the filth in the bilges, he would know what type of ship he was in.

Typically, and because of his slight ...