They had all enjoyed their sail during the day, and been pleased with the novelty of their situation. It was not pleasant for them to think of the frowns of Captain Gordon, and of being compelled to sail at once for home. A majority of them would have been in favor of continuing the cruise, if that oppressive sense of having done wrong had not operated against the scheme. But the most the adventurous leader—brave and skilful now that it was fine weather and plain sailing—could accomplish, was to induce the others to consent if Paul would agree to the plan.
"Of course he won't agree," replied Frank, pettishly. "There are enough of us to have our own way about it."
"You had your own way yesterday, and we came within one of being wrecked," said one of them.
"That wasn't my fault," growled Frank.
"Whose fault was it, then?" demanded Tom.
"Yours, of course; didn't you put the helm the wrong way when I told you to put it hard-a-lee?"
"And you let go the jib sheet long before you ought to have done so. That's what made all the trouble. If it hadn't been for Paul, some of us would not have been here to talk about it now."
"You are a spunky fellow, Tom," sneered Frank.
"So are you, when there is no danger near."
"How many fellows will go to Portland?" asked Frank, desperately.