“Give this to that Frenchy person. I’m quite sure he knows who I am,” she said, and handed Nathaniel a promissory note instructing Mr. Geslin to send all repair bills to her for payment.

From the three brothers, a chorus of thank-you’s.

“Oh, you needn’t thank me,” she started. “On second thought, you can, perhaps.… There are some questions I should like answered. They have been preying on my mind for years.… Yes, that is how you can best thank me.”

“Sure, if we can, Aunt Judith,” Nathaniel said, and added, “There’s something we’re wondering about, too. About our grandfather?”

“Not now. It is time for my nap, and I never miss my nap. At dinner. Five-thirty sharp. I do mean sharp. Do not think me so Southern as to mean anytime between five-thirty and six-thirty.”

“We’ll be here. Would it be all right if we brought our shipmate? His name’s Will Terhune, and …”

“I’m sorry, that won’t be all right”—imperiously. “My questions are of a private nature. Five-thirty, boys.”

They fairly ran down Port Republic to Carteret, down Carteret to Bay, Bay to the riverfront wharves, and then through the door of a brick building and up the stairs to a low-ceilinged loft where men in canvas aprons sat at long tables, stitching and cutting and pumping the treadles of heavy-duty sewing machines. The note was delivered to Frenchy Geslin, who had proved to be as irascible as Kincaid had described. Earlier, when Will and the Braithwaites had tried to negotiate a lower price for the new foresail, he had snarled at them, “I’m running a business, not a goddamned charity.” Now he was as pleasant as could be, declaring Aunt Judith’s pledge to be as good as cash in hand. He would start on the job that very day.

Down the stairs they flew, down the wharf to Double Eagle, and gave the news to Will, who was sunning himself on the cabin top.

“Splendid work, Natters. I never thought duplicity was one of your strong points.”

The comment stirred Eliot’s misgivings: They had buncoed a considerable sum out of an aging widow, a blood relative to boot.

“At least you kept it in the family,” quipped Will.

“We didn’t bunco her, and I’m dead sure that Dad will pay her back,” Nathaniel said, and then reviewed their actions, concluding that they had not played Aunt Judith all that falsely. The story about the oyster plant was mostly true: They had inquired about employment there, hadn’t they? (Though Nathaniel’s motives in going had been to add verisimilitude to their tale.) And the foreman had turned them down, saying that he had all the hands he needed, hadn’t he?