It had been too late to go ashore for sight-seeing last evening, and they had put it off until morning.  And now it was drizzling in a steady, whole-hearted way that promised to make sight-seeing a miserable business.  Some of the crew of the Follow Me had come aboard to discuss plans and the question was whether to remain in harbour and await better weather or to set out again and run as far as Martha’s Vineyard.  Perry was all for action, and he had the support of numerous others, but Steve pointed out that running the cruiser in such weather in strange waters was not over pleasant.  “It’s all well enough for the rest of you, for all you have to do is lie around and read, but it’s another thing to stand up there at the wheel and keep from running into the landscape!”

“Give her to me,” advised Perry.  “I’ll get her to Edgartown or wherever you want to go, right-side-up with care.”

“If you take the wheel,” said Han, “I get out and walk every foot of the way.”

“Better put your rubbers on,” suggested Wink Wheeler.

“You fellows make me very tired,” continued Perry severely.  “You call yourselves the Adventure Club and start out to see some sport, and then the first time there’s a heavy mist you want to stick around an old harbour for fear you’ll get damp!  We’ve been going two whole days now, and we haven’t even glimpsed an adventure!”

“An adventure is one thing,” said Ossie, “and getting drowned is something else again.  Tell you what, Perry; if you are so keen for sport why don’t you slip into the tender and run over to Vineyard Haven yourself?  We’ll follow along tomorrow, or maybe this afternoon.”

“I want to see this town,” said Joe.  “There’s lots to look at in here.  Whaling ships and a museum and—­and lots of romantic things.”

“The whaling ships are all gone now,” said Perry disdainfully.  “They’ve chopped them all up and sold them by the cord for fire wood.  I know, for we bought a lot of it once.  It cost dad about ten dollars for express and didn’t burn any different from any other wood.  My grandmother—­”

Steve groaned.  “For the love of lemons, Perry, don’t resurrect your grandmother.  Let the poor old lady lie.”

“She isn’t dead,” denied Perry indignantly.  “She’s ninety-one and a heap smarter than you are.”

“Perry,” charged Joe severely, “I distinctly remember you telling us that your grandmother died of sea-sickness.”

“I didn’t.  I told you she ate lemons and—­”

“Died of acid stomach?  Oh, all right.  I knew she was dead.”

“Oh, dry up!  She ate lemons to keep from being sea-sick, you idiot.  And if you ate them you wouldn’t have to lug around a lot of silly medicine that doesn’t amount to a row of pins.  And if—­”

“All very interesting,” interrupted Phil mildly, “but it isn’t deciding whether we’re to stay here or go on.  Personally, I think that that should be up to the captain.  If he isn’t to decide whether the weather is right or wrong, who is?”