She made it.<br/><br/>Very much to her surprise, she was drifting into a harbor.  Mostly drifting, she manned a sweep at the back of the fishing boat, but by the grace of a loving God the current was doing most of the work, carrying her into port.  which port, that was the question.  She had set out from the Chesapeake bay up in Virginia for some deep water fishing, and a thrice be-damned Nor'easter had blown them... where, exactly?  She had never been this far south, not even on the coastal traders she had occasionally signed on with.  Her one trip to England, even the return leg had been north of where the stars let her guess where she was now.<br/><br/>Food had not been a problem, she could fish and had bait.  Water...  the storm that dis-masted the large boat had swept her friends overboard.  She would have been long dead of thirst, if not for that.  She had her personal gear, and was glad to have it,  The musket had merited special stowage, her boatmates' gear had gone over the side with them in the swell that had nearly swamped them.<br/><br/>Enough of that, the still seaworthy (barely) boat was closing on the docks, near a tavern.<br/><br/>"Boy or girl, which do I.."  Her voice trailed off.  back home, she was too well known, but here... she could pass for a boy.  She probably should, but she had never had to keep the pretense up for longer than a practical joke. A lot of Royal Navy officers did like their cabin boys, finding out she was a girl once the two of them were upstairs in a crib ...' great fun, and since they often paid to get what they had thought was "him" alone, it brought in a little money.<br/><br/>As long as she moved fast, and she could when needed.  It did help with that trick to pull it with friends around.<br/><br/>A tavern, yep, she was headed right for it  She checked her musket, made sure the leather pouch coverd the pan, loosened her hanger in the sheath.  But her real trust was in her belaying pin.  A nice head knocker, and not as likely to get people so excited as shooting a musket or drawing steel would.<br/><br/>Soft bump of impact, she swarmed onto the dock like a monkey, tying off the boat.  She sighed, made sure her hair was tied back, slung her musket muzzle-down over one shoulder. her carryall on the other and padded softly on moccasin clad feet into the tavern.