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Rain fell in a steady curtain.
Not a storm—nothing violent—just the slow, patient rain of the tropics. Warm. Persistent. It drummed softly against steel plating and canvas awnings, beaded along railings, and slid in thin streams toward the scuppers. Tugboats cut through the gray water ahead of the convoy, black hulls hissing as they turned to guide the ships toward harbor.
Oskar stood at the rail.
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