The Golden Harbor
The fog did not roll in so much as it solidified, a thick, gray paste that swallowed the ironclad *H.M.S. Perseus* and the jagged, black teeth of the coastline of Nova Scotia, erasing the horizon until the only thing that existed was the ship, the water, and the heavy, wet silence that pressed against the portholes like a living thing, a pressure that made the ears pop and the teeth ache with a...
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