“That’s so,” agreed several.  “Steve’s the captain.  What you say goes, Steve.”

“Very well.  Then we’ll stay here until it stops misting, or, at any rate, until tomorrow.  If it’s still nasty then and you fellows want to go on, I’ll go.  Now let’s go ashore and see what’s doing.”

“O Harry!” called Wink.  “We’re going to stay until tomorrow.  Come ashore.”

In spite of the drizzle they found a good deal to interest them in New Bedford, and Joe actually did find a whaler, although it was no longer in commission.  At noon, Ossie, having made many purchases in the town, served a dinner that made the world look a lot brighter.  Afterwards the crews of the two boats exchanged calls, read, dozed, played the graphophone and didn’t much care whether it drizzled or not.  Toward the end of the day the sun peered forth experimentally and there followed another expedition ashore.  But the sun soon gave up its attempt to do any business that day and the drizzle set in harder than ever.  In the evening the entire club attended a moving picture show and thus disposed of several hours that might otherwise have proved difficult to get through.  A motor-boat, no matter how large or luxurious, is not the most interesting place to live on in wet weather.

The next morning the mist had ceased, but the sun was hidden behind dark clouds and the world was still rather dreary.  But plenty of hot coffee, some of Ossie’s baking powder biscuits and the almost invariable fried bacon cheered them remarkably, and at a little past eight the order was given to weigh anchor and the two cruisers, the Adventurer showing the way, set forth across Buzzard’s Bay for Edgartown.

It was a sixteen-mile run to the channel between Nonamesset Island and the mainland, and Steve followed the steamboat course closely.  The chart showed many rocks and ledges in the first six miles, but neither of the cruisers drew enough to make it necessary for their skippers to worry.  There was rough water, however, and Joe was seen to look anxiously toward the after cabin.  A flukey breeze came out of the southeast and made sweaters comfortable.  The shore of Naushon Island was grey and indistinct when the Adventurer straightened out for the run across the bay.  Behind her the Follow Me plunged gallantly, doing her fourteen miles without a murmur.  As they neared Penzance the sea moderated and they swung into the channel on an almost even keel.  Good harbours beckoned, and the plan of lying by until after dinner was discussed and finally abandoned.  Edgartown was only another hour’s sail and it would be better to keep on and lie in there for dinner.  But when the Adventurer had passed into Vineyard Sound Steve began to wish he had waited.  A bank of grey mist hid the island toward which they were headed and he feared they would find themselves in it before they could reach the nearest harbour, which was Vineyard Haven.  But since the Adventurer