“Hold on, lad, you are about to hear the tale of how the Brooklyn led Farragut’s fleet into Mobile Bay, under a storm, by God, a storm of shot and shell.…”

“But—” Drew motioned at the bluefish, its thick flanks speckled with blades of grass.

“You must do as Father says first.…”

“Now, Lockwood …”

He ignored her, and walked off a few yards with Father’s rolling gait, his chin tucked in like a boxer’s.

“Brooklyn was a twenty-eight and two thousand ton, Captain Alden in command.…”

“She was twenty-four guns,” Drew corrected, and Lockwood turned on him in an impersonation of Cyrus in a fit of temper. “Are you disputing me? Were you at Mobile Bay, boy? Were you there when the order came down to trice up, secure all sulufer—I mean to say, all su-per-fluous spars and rigging? Eh? Were you?”

It was wicked fun to see the ruler of all their lives parodied; at the same time, there was something alarming about it.

“First thing, you’d see the puff of smoke, way upon the distant ramparts of Fort Morgan.” Pointing seaward, Lockwood widened his eyes in mock terror. “And then you would see the shot itself, why, it looked like one of the titans of old had thrown a giant baseball … straight at you, at you.” Leaning forward, he thrust his face into Drew’s, and grabbed him by both shoulders. Drew wrinkled his nose, squirmed to get free.

“C’mon, lemme go.… You smell funny.”

“Smell of fear, bucko …”

“Lockwood, I think that’s about enough.…” Mother, standing with her feet spread, her parasol braced across her legs just above her knees, and her jaw muscles tightening. “Come and have your tea. I do believe you could use it.”

“… because if you were a green sailor like I was then, you were sure that giant ball was going to hit you right between your sidelights, and it howling and shrieking like ten devils straight from hell. And you know what you wanted to do, then? This, this …” Lockwood flung himself to his knees and, with a jerk that bent Drew’s back, pulled him closer. “Fall down and pray! That’s what!”

“Lockwood!” Mother took a step. He had gone too deeply into his role, and the fun had gone out of the masquerade. “You’re frightening him!”

“Just joking around,” he said, returning to his own voice. “Right, Drew? A little joke? But tell me something, if the old man, God forbid, went to his glory today, d’you think I’d make a good subsh—substitute? What d’you say, li’l brother? Would I?” He pinched Drew’s cheeks hard. “C’mon, what d’you say, could I fill in for your daddy and my daddy?”