“Um.... Well, you’re not likely to find out,” he said, and then he grinned like he had a whale of a joke on us.
“Laugh ahead,” says Catty, when he had gone forward. “Maybe we’ve got a bigger joke on you.”
We got out the phonograph and played it a while, and then turned in, and slept like logs. In the morning we took our time, and after breakfast, started for Edgartown, around the corner of the island. It wasn’t a long run, but when we got there we’d have been willing to have gone a long ways to see it. There was a fine harbor and lots of yachts, and some old fishing boats, and the town ashore. Why, you could imagine it was still a harbor for whalers like it was once. The old town looked like it might be, and I says to Catty that I bet almost everybody who lived there was an old sea captain or his family. We went ashore and bought some post cards to send home, and to send a telegram for Mr. Browning and see if there were any messages for him.
We asked the man.
“What yacht did you say?” says he.
“The Albatross,” says Catty.
“Hain’t got a message for you,” says he, “but one just came in about you.”
“No,” says Catty, pretending he was astonished.
“Know a yacht by the name of the Porpoise?” says he.
“Yes.”