A guidance boat sailed past the Canal District Dock, and a man at the bow, who was either a boatman or a porter, raised a bottle of wine while using a strange southern tune to shout what could be either a folk song or a ditty:
"As a kid in the village, I was a bully, but as an adult, there's no discussing anything! My old man owes the Lord taxes for his fields, my old lady weaves for the master to repay them, but I simply won't accept fate, I'm off to the city to find a good bride!"
His voice echoed over the canal, drawing responses from passing ships and many people on both sides of the dock:
"A good bride, huh..."
Behind the man, five or six others—dressed just as plainly in single layers of rough cloth, porters and dock workers alike—gathered at the other end of the boat, each holding a bottle of wine, shouting and carousing with carefree abandon.
The arrival of the Emerald Celebration had quieted the normally bustling ports and warehouses of the Canal District significantly.
