7:50 A.M.
SS DORSET
NEW YORK HARBOR
Breakfast after the clays was casual, a buffet of pancakes (blueberry, raspberry, and plain), bacon and sausage, kippers, lox, and fried eggs. Dewey took a plate and piled up a few eggs and blueberry pancakes, along with a pile of bacon, sausage, and some toast. He was surrounded by competitors from the shooting party, each congratulating him. Several servants also congratulated him.
He sat on a deck chair with Jenna’s father and mother, along with a few other people.
“So, Dewey, where are you from?” asked Jemima, Jenna’s mother.
“Maine,” said Dewey.
“Where in Maine?” she said. “I absolutely love Maine. I went to summer camp there … a few years ago.”
“Years?” said Farragut. “At this point it’s decades, dear.”
“Oh, do be quiet,” Jemima said as everyone laughed.
“Castine,” said Dewey.
“Castine?” said one of the individuals seated in the loose semicircle, in a refined British accent. “I believe that was the site of a great naval battle between England and the Colonies?”
Dewey nodded. “Yes, I believe you’re right, though it was no longer a colony.”
“Yes, thank you,” the man said. “Your Paul Revere was in charge of the military operation. The Penobscot Expedition. Until Pearl Harbor, America’s greatest naval defeat. Of course, soon after that I believe you routed the bloody hell out of us!”
Dewey smiled. He was drinking a Bloody Mary. After finishing a sip, he looked around, and at the man, but he said nothing.
“I’ve actually been to Castine,” said Farragut, breaking the silence. “It’s a beautiful town practically surrounded by water.”
For some time, they grilled Dewey on Castine, on BC, where he’d gone to college, and then tried to probe into his military background, with Dewey admitting to little more than the fact that, yes, he’d been in the military.
The boat was crowded with other similar groups of guests of the Farraguts, gathered at tables, or some even sitting right down on the deck, talking and laughing. He saw Jenna seated with another group, one floor above, toward the back of the boat.
Meanwhile, a servant kept his Bloody Mary fresh, and he soon found himself enjoying the conversation with Jenna’s parents. Jenna’s mother looked like Jenna, except that her hair was auburn. Farragut didn’t look like her at all, though he saw Jenna in her father’s sharp intelligence.
The yacht was like a castle on the water, and every detail was attended to, down to the green aging of the copper patina on the balustrade closest to Dewey.
The massive harbor in the direction of New York City was dotted with boats, and a helicopter flew occasionally by, a news chopper or someone commuting to the city from Long Island.
Dewey stood up and thanked the Farraguts. He retrieved another Bloody Mary and found his way back to his room belowdecks. He wanted to take a shower. The shooting had been a workout. He took off his clothing and opened the door to the bathroom between his room and Jenna’s.