“It would be worth about ten cents,” answered Wink pessimistically, “after we’d crowded five fellows into her in a sea like this!”

“Well, anyway, she’s bigger than ours,” said Joe.  “And I saw a life belt downstairs—­I mean below.”

Joe and Wink were to take watches at the wheel, Perry and Han were to tend to the sail and keep a lookout and Bert was to cook.  Steve issued his final directions at a little past one and then the two hawsers were stretched to the cruisers.  Another squall of rain set in as the final preparations were made.  A code of signals had been arranged between the three boats, a flag or piece of sailcloth to be used while the light held and a lantern after darkness.  The “prize crew” cheered gaily as the others pulled away in the Adventurer’s dingey and were cheered in return, and five minutes later the two cables tautened, the water foamed under the overhangs of the motor-boats and, reluctantly and even protestingly, the Catspaw obeyed the summons and started slowly to follow in the wakes of the distant cruisers.

Han and Perry, at the bow, waved caps triumphantly as the blunt nose of the schooner began to dig into the waves, and Joe, at the wheel, shouted back.  The three-cornered sail was shifted to meet the following breeze and soon the Catspaw was wallowing along slowly but, as it seemed, in a determined way at the rate of, perhaps, three miles an hour.  Perry, protected by a slicker, seated himself on the windlass and felt very important.  Now and then someone aboard one of the cruisers waved a hand and Perry waved superbly back.  Those cruisers were a long way off in case of danger, he reflected once, but he decided not to let his mind dwell on the fact.

Joe found that the wheel of the Catspaw required a good deal more attention than that of the Adventurer, and his arms were fairly tired by the time he yielded his place to the impatiently eager Wink.  Steering the Catspaw with the sea almost up to her deck line was a good deal like steering a scow loaded with pig-iron, Joe decided.  Not, of course, that he had ever steered a scow of any sort, but he had imagination.

The Adventurer and Follow Me were heading West Southwest one-fourth West to pass Boon Island to starboard, and Kittery Point lay some thirty miles away.  As it was then just short of three bells, and as they were making, as near as those aboard the Catspaw could judge, very nearly three miles an hour, it seemed probable that by two o’clock that night they would be at anchor off Portsmouth Harbour.  Of course, there was always the possibility of bad weather or a broken cable, but the Catspaw’s crew declined to be pessimistic.  They were having a royal good time.  There was enough danger in the enterprise to make it exciting, and, being normal, healthy chaps, excitement was better than food.  Perry proclaimed his delight at last finding an adventure quite to his taste.