He didn’t.” Jake turned and walked away without another word. He was sitting in his stateroom at his desk when the Real McCoy came in. The only light was the ten-watt fluorescent tube above Jake’s desk. McCoy seated himself on his bunk. “Take a hike, will ya, Real? I need some time alone.” McCoy thought about it for a few seconds. “Sure,” he said, and left. Summer in Virginia was his favorite time of year. Everything was growing, the deer were lazy and fat, the squirrels chattered in the trees. The sun there would be hot on your back, the sweat would dampen your shirt. You would feel good as you used your muscles, accomplished tangible work that stood as hard evidence of the effort that had been put into it. The folks up and down the road were solid, hardworking people, people to stand with in good times and bad. And he had given that up for this … Sitting in his stateroom Jake Grafton could hear the creaks and groans of the ship, the noises made by the steel plates as she rode through the seaway.
