For the first time, Charles took a hard look at his colleague. “What, precisely, bothers you, Bennett?”
“The instability of water, for one thing. What if the boat hits something or the water suddenly swells just as the scalpel is—”
“Do you usually get motion sickness?”
Bennett gave a start. “How did you know?”
Charles smiled. “You’re beginning to turn a little green around the gills.”
“I don’t believe anything escapes you, Charles.”
“You’re quite wrong, Bennett. Sometimes I even think the more apparent things are to other people, the more obscure they seem to me.”
Bennett laughed despite his discomfort.
“The yacht will have a lot less motion than this carriage, I assure you,” Charles went on.
“Then perhaps I’ll survive,” Bennett answered.
The two looked at each other but said nothing more. The last word used by Bennett prompted Charles to think of the president’s chances of survival. Cancer was a dreadful disease in any part of the body. But cancer of the mouth was particularly dangerous, with the chance of gross disfigurement even if the patient survived.
It was merely intuition on Charles’s part, yet he couldn’t help but feel that Cleveland’s love of cigars had played a role in the disease. He had seen it in England with men who smoked excessively-—whether cigars, pipe, or opium. The clinics had been filled with them.
The carriage wheeled its way through the countryside, slowing down for a stray cow or pig in the road and then regaining its speed. As the wind began to rise, Charles watched the boats, tiny specks upon the watery horizon, trim their sails and head for home. But by the time the carriage arrived at the basin, few had reached the safety of the boat slips.
All around him, the air was alive with the vibration of halyards, thumping like some out-of-control bass fiddle. And from the sound Charles knew that their trip on the water would not be a placid one. For himself, he did not mind. But like Araminta, Bennett would not be the best of passengers.
Because of the rough trip from England, Araminta had not been interested in getting on the water again, however hot it was on land. And so the previous week he had taken only Ginna and Nathan on the excursion down the Potomac to Mount Vernon, to give them a history lesson of their own country, which they’d never before seen.
That day had been so perfect, with Araminta unable to spoil their enjoyment. Now, as Charles and Bennett arrived at the marina, he was once again glad to leave Araminta behind, even for a few days.
In the low, sloped curve of the basin, a special white yacht, its polished brass catching an occasional glint of sun, sat unobtrusively in the water. It was a replica of the others usually berthed at the marina. Only the flag was different—green and yellow, with a small white crescent in the upper left quadrant. Standing guard were two burly-looking characters in deckhand clothing, a suitable disguise, Charles thought, for the president’s men.
The carriage did not go directly to the waiting boat. Instead, it drew up behind a tackle shop, where the two doctors were quickly ushered into a small room with its single window obscured by layers of dust.
“You will please change clothes in here.”
Outside, a dog barked, while the odor of bait, trapped in the afternoon heat, permeated the dingy backroom. An old gray tarpaulin had been spread on the floor, and hanging on two hooks were two suits: cleanly pressed white duck trousers, shirts, and navy coats with gold buttons. Each suit was carefully labeled with the initials of one of the doctors.
When Charles saw the costumes, he laughed. “If the aides wanted anonymity, they should have provided simpler clothes. I’ll feel like a riverboat captain on the Mississippi in this outfit.”
“It’s really a good disguise, Charles. This is the official dress of the Georgetown yacht club. We’re right in style. But, of course, you wouldn’t know that, being from England.”
Charles started to say something but changed his mind.
Within a few minutes, the two men had stripped themselves of their street clothes and put on the others provided for them. By the time they emerged from the tackle shop, carrying fishing gear, also provided for them, the carriage they had ridden in was gone. In its place was a second carriage.
“Damn!”
“What is it, Charles?” Bennett whispered.
“Our bags, my medical kit … They’re in the other carriage.”
There was nothing to do but go to the boat and tell the president’s men they couldn’t leave until they chased down the bags. And so, with Bennett, a chagrined Charles, blaming himself for letting his medical kit out of his sight, climbed into the second carriage for the short ride the rest of the way.
As the carriage pulled alongside the boat slip, one of the men stepped forward to open the carriage door. “Dr. Forsyte?”
“Yes.”
“And Dr. Jamison?”
“Yes.”
“You will please come aboard quickly.”
“We can’t leave yet,” Charles responded. “Our suitcases were left in the other carriage—”
“They’re already in your quarters.”
“The medical kit, too?”
“Everything. Now I’ll take your fishing gear for you, if you’d like.”
As soon as they set foot on deck, a third man was waiting for them. He was another burly, mustached fellow, tanned from his life on the sea. “I’ll show you to your quarters. I’m afraid you’ll have to remain belowdecks until we’re safely out of the harbor. We hadn’t counted on all the boats returning so soon. But once we’re on the waterway, you may come up on deck at any time.”
“I daresay you won’t be seeing me until we reach our destination,” Bennett said. “I plan to spend the entire journey on my back.”
When Charles reached his quarters, he saw his medical kit with his suitcase. But he would not be satisfied until he opened it and made sure all of his equipment was safe.
His medical instruments were made of the finest English steel, a sacrifice on
