Ben is working late at the docks, shifting an anonymous shipment from New York City onto a freight train northward bound. He has settled into the routine well enough, the hard physical work a good distraction from the gaping hole in his memory.

He knows nothing of his life before he woke two months ago. The kindly woman who had taken him in said he had been badly injured, bleeding from his head and staggering around Limehouse. She thought he had been knocked about by some debtor and had sheltered him until he recovered his senses - but not his mind.

When he had been half-crazed, he had said his name was Ben, she told him. That is the only thing remaining of his past life.

Still, his work at the docks is satisfying and pays well, and he is happy to carry on with it until his mind returns to him. And if it does not return, he is satisfied with his lot, though there is something deep inside him that tells him he is missed.

Tonight it seems is a night for lost souls. Because when his new friends say goodnight, he walks along the dockside, unable to rest. Something is nagging at him and he needs to walk it off.

Suddenly, he hears a splash from a little way along the walkway. He runs to the railing and sees a large set of ripples - and a man's hat floating on the surface.

Without thinking, he climbs the rail and jumps into the water.