Xavier drifted slowly downriver as the wharfs passed him by at a pace comparable to someone walking along the shore or a little slower.  Noone seemed to have noticed his plunge which was amazing.  But then people were busy working.  It was mid morning.  Given his condition he rolled onto his back and just laid there.  Now and then he used his arms to start making progress toward civilization, questioning the sanity of his actions.

He knew it was survival instinct making him try to reach the shore.  But a part of him wondered about the consequences of tampering with time.  One glance and he had realized he had travelled far back in time.  His best guess was Savannah, GA somewhere in the mid 19th century.  The conclusion came to him with a resignation to the fact that he was an anachronism here.  He tried to recall how people dressed.  But he couldn’t recall which style was which century.

Then it hit him.  Mid 19th century America.  That was the period of the 1st American Civil War.  North vs South.  Blue vs Grey.  Then he hesitated and laughed.  Which color as which.  He was dressed in all black.  For that matter, people in this time dressed in lots of layers.  Right?  Well, women did.  He was going to look like a lunatic who went out in his pajamas covered only with a robe - then decided to take a little swim.  He laughed at the thought.

A little panicked he felt for his watch.  Then he relaxed as he discovered it attached to its chain.  It was his best chance to return to his own time…

… He made it to shore before he drifted too far past it and crawled onto the shore shakily.  By this time he had fully come to grips with his situation.  He tried to stand, but failed a few times and gave up, nearly vomiting what little food was in his stomach.  His clothing would dry out in a few minutes being dirt and water repellant.  His hair was cropped very short and was already nearly dry.  He was going to need to eat.  But as he recalled, in this century people relied on what they referred to as hard currency.  Further, the North had won the Civil War.  If this was after that time - and he was sure it was, then the economy was hurting.  Being mistaken for being from the North was not going to make him popular.

He needed a story.  He hated lying, so he decided on a white lie.  He was from the West.  That was true.  It was a ghost town.  He smiled at that bit of inventiveness.  Most towns from this time would have been in 500 years.  His profession?  He had to be very careful here.  When was electricity invented?  Benjamin Franklin.  Kite.  Idiot.  He laughed.  He was being unfair.  18th century.  If anything he should be grateful to the man.  It meant he could find work.  Then he frowned.  Didn’t they use conduction through insulated metals rather than broadcast power?  That could present a problem.  Maybe something simpler.

He was literate.  He knew math.  He … needed help.  He briefly considered manual labor and let the thought perish.  Then he recalled one of his old methods of making money - con games - specifically involving cards.  He shook his head.  Not yet.  He wasn’t that desperate.  Or … was he?  He smiled slowly to himself.  There were always games like that going on in run down places where there were either casinos or transient people - in other words, along the wharfs.  He reached into his pocket and pulled out his deck of cards and started to fan them to rid them of any residual moisture.

His plans turned to crap as soon as he got close to the wharf area.  He got the strangest look from a handful of dock workers.  His clothes.  Not wanting to get beat up he headed in another direction.  But he adjusted his walk to a stagger.  (It wasn’t much of an adjustment.)  He aimed himself at what he hoped was a more reputable part of town.  Had it been late at night he would likely have drawn a mugger or two out of the woodworks.  But in broad daylight, he made good his ‘escape.”  

100 yards got him out of the wharf area and into shops, inns - middle income stuff.  The shops here tended to be more of the imported goods sort.  200 yards and he was past all that.  Along this area was a maze of homes and utilitarian shops.  And by now he had drawn a new audience - the local law, no doubt.  He picked a spot with no real purpose, simply visible and non suspicious.  Then he allowed himself to collapse.  The men following him seemed to be in no real hurry at first, then slowly picked up their pace.  They probably thought he was drunk.