New York - The Novel

house—they haven’t yet, but they’re coming down here. On the way already. You’d better hide your nigger.”
    “I already did. Think they’ll go for the saloon?”
    “Probably not. It’s the abolitionist newspapers they’re after: the
Times
, and others.” He downed his whiskey and gave Sean a puckish grin. “So wish me luck, Mr. O’Donnell. I’m off to defend the freedom of the press.”
    “How will you do that?” Sean asked, as Jerome began to stride out of the saloon.
    Jerome turned. “I got me a Gatling gun,” he answered. Then he was gone.
    A Gatling gun. God knows how he’d got it. The newly patented gun was hardly even used by the army yet. With its swiftly rotating barrels, however, it could deliver a devastating, continuous fire that would mow down any crowd. You didn’t want to mess with Jerome, thought Sean. He knows how to fight dirty.
    Once again, now, he checked all the shutters, but he didn’t close the saloon. If the rioters wanted a drink and couldn’t get served, that would really annoy them.
    He was glad his sister Mary was safely out at Coney Island.

    Monday had started well for Mary. She’d come down to breakfast to find Gretchen already at table, in conversation with another mother. As Mary sat down with them, Gretchen was just remarking that the woman’s son seemed rather like her own boy, and in no time this led to a discussion of motherhood in general. The lady asked Mary if she had children, to which she replied: “Not until I’m married.”
    “Quite right,” the lady said with a laugh.
    Theodore appeared after that.
    They bathed in the morning. This time, holding the rope, Mary worked her way out until the water was right up over her chest, and then she swam out almost to the barrier ropes at the end. And while she was swimming there, Theodore came past and dived down under the rope and went on swimming with strong strokes out into the sea. He was out there quite some time. She and Gretchen were sitting together on the beach when he came back and emerged dripping from the water.
    “Most invigorating,” he said with a laugh, and started drying himself with a towel.
    At lunch, Theodore asked her if she was going to sketch that day, and she said she thought she might. So after the meal, she went to get her sketch pad. When she came down again, Gretchen and Theodore were talking together, and Gretchen said, “You go on, Mary, and I’ll catch you up.”
    She’d only walked a short way along the sand, however, when reaching into her bag, she realized that she’d left her pencils up in the room, so she had to go back. Arriving at the inn, she didn’t see Gretchen and Theodore, so she supposed Gretchen might have gone up to their room. But the room was empty, so she collected her pencils and went out again.
    She was just setting off along the path when she saw them. They were a little way off, standing together at the end of the inn’s white picket fence, under the shade of a small tree. They didn’t see her, because they were too deep in their conversation, nor could she hear what they were saying, but you could see at once that they were having a quarrel. Gretchen’s normally placid face was screwed up in fury. Mary had never seen her looking like that before. Theodore was looking irritated and impatient.
    The only thing to do was hurry away and pretend she had not seen.
    The sight of her friends quarreling had made an unwelcome interruption into the idyllic day, like a dark cloud suddenly appearing in a blue sky. Mary walked swiftly along the beach, therefore, to put a distance between herself and the two Kellers. She did not want anything to spoil that afternoon. And by the time she’d gone a mile or so, and encountered nothing except the unbroken line of the ocean and the warm sand, she felt restored. She realized that she was approaching the place where she had sketched the day before, and crossing over a little dune, she started to look out in case the deer might be there again. She didn’t see it though.
    However, she did notice a little wooden shelter some way off, which had obviously been abandoned, for its roof was off, and the small posts that had supported it were pointing jaggedly into the sky. Taken with a couple of trees nearby, it made a strange, rather haunting composition, not too difficult to draw, and so she sat down and began to sketch. After a while, when she had caught some of it to her satisfaction, she put the sketch pad down and