While the fog had hidden the harbour
he had supposed that not more than half a dozen craft were within sight,
but now, between mouth and causeway, fully two dozen sailboats and
launches dotted the surface. Over his shoulder was a little hamlet that
was doubtless Vineyard Haven. Facing him was a larger community, and he
decided that that would be Oak Bluffs. Half a mile down the harbour lay
the _Adventurer_ and, nearer at hand, the _Follow Me_. But what was of
more present interest to Perry was a group of figures on the opposite
beach. They appeared to be seated and there was that in their attitude
which, even at this distance, told of dejection. So, reflected Perry,
might have looked a group of marooned sailors. He sighed and bent again
to his inadequate oars. He was under no misapprehension as to the sort
of welcome awaiting him, but, like an early Christian martyr on the way
to the arena, he proceeded with high courage if scant enthusiasm.
With the sun pouring down upon him, with his hands blistered, with his
breath just about exhausted and his arms aching, he at last drew to the
shore amidst a dense and unflattering silence. Five irate youths stepped
into the tender and crowded the seats. Harry Corwin took his place
beside Perry and relieved him of the port oar.
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