“More to the point,” Herman interrupted, “you don’t need a canal to sail a boat on the Caribbean. Ben, I wonder if your mother is right about this one.”
“I am always right,” said Ellen.
“With all respect, my mother is wrong on this one most of all,” said Ben. “Tell them the real reason you’re against it, Mother. Despite your budding friendship with Mr. Preston—”
“I am set against the looming war with Spain,” Ellen declared. “Spain has deep colonial interests in Cuba and the Philippines.”
“And most important to me, Colombia,” Ben added, “which is about to go to war with Panama. America has no choice but to defend Panama with whom they have a treaty. Naturally, Mother is on the side against America.”
“America must stay out of it!”
“They can’t.”
Ellen threw up her hands.
“Now, now. Many people are against the war, Benjamin,” Herman said diplomatically. Everyone knew he wasn’t one of them. “Mark Twain for one. Why give your poor mother a hard time?”
“He lives and breathes for nothing else, Herman,” said Ellen.
“I know what you mean, Ellen,” said Herman without so much as a glance at Harry.
“But it doesn’t matter,” Ellen continued. “Because Ben knows his Aunt Josephine and I, along with the esteemed Erving Winslow, are heading the newly chartered Anti-Imperialist League to protest U.S. involvement precisely in places like Panama.”
“I wish impatiently for the opportunity to hear your side of things,” said Ben. “When and where will your little society meet? I’ll bring Harry. Maybe Esther too.”
“Thursday evenings. Old South Meeting House,” she added nobly. “A perfect place for dissent and open debate for people like us. Seven o’clock.”
“You’re quite the revolutionary, Mother,” Ben said. “I’ll be sure to make my appearance.”
“Ben,” said Ellen, “you may come, but you’re absolutely forbidden to collect even one of the five thousand signatures you need for the canal exploratory commission to reopen their research.”
Harry was utterly delighted. “Benji, you’re joining your mother’s newly minted league against the development of the canal to collect signatures to help build the canal?”
Ben looked tremendously pleased with himself.
“Not even one signature, Benjamin,” Ellen repeated. “Not even your own.”
It was Elmore who burst Ben’s balloon. “You’ll never get enough signatures,” he said in his high-horse voice. “Because the canal is a terrible idea. It’s a waste of our resources.”
Ben tilted his head in fake deference. “Yes, I am well aware that many people hold this opinion.”
“It’s the Henry Ford fiasco,” Ellen said. “Did you hear that the man just formed an automobile company in Detroit?”
“I heard, Mother, yes. Everybody’s heard.”
“Well, Ford thinks his horseless carriages are going to catch on with the general public,” Ellen went on, her shoulders squaring with derision. “There’s been no evidence of that. It will never be as popular as the modern bicycle.”
“I completely agree with you, Mrs. Shaw,” concurred the medical student.
“It’s another folly, if you ask me,” Ellen said. “Pure vain folly.”
“Just like the canal,” Elmore underscored.
Ben would not be provoked into being insulting. “From an engineering perspective alone, a successfully built canal will be a man-made wonder of the modern world,” he said. “Perhaps like Henry Ford’s horseless carriage?”
“And if it’s not successful?”
Ben shrugged. “If we don’t build it, it will definitely not be successful.”
Elmore shook his head. “You’ll all die—like the French. You won’t be able to get rid of the mosquitoes.”
“Elmore is right, Ben,” said Esther.
“No, he isn’t. We’ll put up nets to keep them out.”
“You’ll have to put the nets up all around Panama,” Elmore said.
“If that’s what it takes,” said Ben.
Herman shook his head in amazement at Ben and got up. “Ellen, your son is astounding,” he said. “But I must bid you all a good night. My day starts early tomorrow.” He kissed Ellen’s hand before he left.
The long evening ended shortly thereafter. Harry, with Ben at the open door of the horse carriage, said to his friend, “There are no superlatives left for you. How did you do it?” Ellen was already inside and waiting for her son.
Ben smiled. “Anything to entertain your father.” He patted Harry on the shoulder. “Don’t forget to remind him about Old Wells House.” He held on to Harry’s arm for a moment. “However, old friend, since I’ve just helped you out …”
“Name it.”
Ben lowered his voice so his mother wouldn’t hear. “Come with me to Lawrence next Saturday.”
“Except that.”
“Harry!”
“I’m serious. Anything else. You know how much I hate to agree with my father …”
“Yes, Mr. Objection Maker, we all know this, including your father.”
“Yes, because you and your mother see eye to eye on everything. But in this one narrow circumstance, my father happens to be right about the girl. And you didn’t even tell him the main reason why. But I know. Ben, it’s ruinous.”
“Don’t be so melodramatic,” Ben said, dragging Harry away from the coach. “You’re not writing a book. We’re going to hop on a train and take a little ride north into the country. We’re going to explore and research Lawrence for your father. To see if there are any real estate investment opportunities there.” Ben adopted a businesslike tone. “Also, and this is critical, I absolutely must get five thousand signatures in order to bring this Panama Canal study before the Commission.”
“Now you’re going to Lawrence to get canal signatures?”
“We. Come on, you can’t spend the entire summer reading in your chair.”
“I also work, remember? And Saturdays I have a seminar on the economic history of the United States. At the pleasure of Dr. Callender. I can’t miss it.”
Ben waved him away. “Seminar ends at eleven. And you have many a time missed it. No excuses.” He hopped inside the carriage, closed the door and stuck his head out. “Also, you have it all wrong,” he said quietly to his friend. “We have business to conduct. Afterward, if there is time, we may pay a brief visit to the Attaviano family.”
“We don’t know where they live.”
“Oh yes, we do.” Ear to ear was Ben’s smile. “We helped them send the telegram to announce their arrival, remember?”
“Why don’t we just drive this carriage off a cliff instead?” said Harry, slamming shut the door as the horse clopped away, and faint in the night he heard Ben’s tenor voice singing, “My wild Italian rose, the sweetest flower that grows …”
When Harry turned around, Esther was standing rigidly behind him on the portico, waving goodbye.