So "No Stop" was the order, and the _Adventurer_, turning back
into home waters off Lubec, churned her way through the Bay of Fundy at
a good pace. The morning had dawned hazy, but the sun had shone brightly
for awhile in mid-afternoon. Later the sunlight disappeared again and
the northern sky piled itself with clouds. South West Head was abeam
then and Steve half-heartedly offered to run to shelter. But the others
pooh-poohed the suggestion.
"If we duck every time there's a cloud," said Joe, "we'll never get back
to Camden. There isn't any wind and the barometer says fair."
The barometer was rather a joke aboard the _Adventurer_. It hung just
inside the forward companion way and was undoubtedly a most excellent
instrument. But not a soul aboard could read it properly. When it
dropped, the skies cleared and the wind blew. When it rose, it
invariably rained or got foggy. Steve had long since given it up in
despair, but Joe still maintained a belief in his powers of
prognosticating weather by the barometer, a belief that no one else on
the boat shared.
"If the pesky thing says that," remarked Han, "it'll snow before night!
Still, I don't see why we need to run into harbour yet. There's no sign
of fog, and if it's only rain that's coming, why, we've been wet before.
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