Out from the shore drifted the Berinthia till the anchor dropped from her bow, and she lay a thing of beauty, swinging with the ebbing tide.
In the cabin the guests were partaking of the bountiful and appetizing repast.
“I remember, Miss Newville, that you once graciously served me at an afternoon tea; shall I have the pleasure of waiting upon you?” Robert asked.
“I shall be pleased to be served by you. The fresh air has sharpened my appetite, and I will begin with a plate of beans, if you please.”
He brought what she desired, served himself, and took a chair by her side. They talked of the successful launching, of the beauty of the ship, sitting as gracefully as a swan upon the water, of the almost perfect likeness of the figurehead to Berinthia.
“Possibly it is so beautiful because the engraver’s heart has gone into it,” she said with a smile.
Their eyes met. He thought hers very beautiful at the moment.
Roger Stanley found equal pleasure in serving Rachel, and in listening to what she had to say about the launching, her visit to Boston, and of things in Rumford.
Robert talked with Isaac Coffin, who said he expected to have a commission in his majesty’s navy. Admiral Montague was very kind, and was using his influence to secure an appointment. His younger brother, John, liked the army better. Robert came to the conclusion that they were not Sons of Liberty, but were inclined to take sides with the ministry, which was very natural, as their father was holding a very important office under the crown.
There was a merry chattering of voices, a rattling of knives and forks, and changing of plates. Mark Antony was master of ceremonies at the table, giving directions to Cæsar and Pompey.