"There is one thing we do not possess that we should have," said Merry,
as Jack came aft and stood near the wheel.

"What's that?"

"A gun."

"Why, you have four or five below."

"I don't mean that kind. We need a small cannon to fire when we anchor
and when we get under way. We are not doing the thing properly unless we
have one."

"I never thought of that."

"I did not think of it till it was too late to get one in Boston. We'll
have to get along for the present without it."

They ran past the end of the breakwater and were opposite the Bay Point
Hotel, a handsome summer hotel near the city of Rockland. Outside the
harbor they found a breeze that made the _White Wings_ heel over and
take a bone in her teeth.

Although the sloop was not in the racing class, Frank was well satisfied
with her, for he had discovered that she possessed many good qualities.
She could be held pretty near to the wind without yawing and she was not
at all cranky, nor did she require much weather helm. Of course, she
could not run as near to the wind as a cutter-rigged yacht of the racing
class, but she could do better than the ordinary cutter.

The wind was off shore and favorable, so the _White Wings_ seemed to fly
that morning. The boys found comfortable positions and enjoyed the sail
and the scenery.

Soon Rockland was left behind, disappearing from view behind the point
on which the hotel sat. And then the Camden mountains began to loom
higher and higher to the northwest.

"We met a warm reception in Rockland," said Frank. "I wonder how it will
be in Camden."

The sunshine was bright on the blue bay. The distant islands looked
inviting, and there was something about the cool greenness of the woods
along the shore that was soothing to the eye.

It was not long before Rockport lighthouse came into view. Beyond the
lighthouse they saw the narrow harbor and the village, with the houses
seeming to cling to the heights that surrounded the harbor. From the
limekilns rose black smoke that added to the picturesque charm of the
scene.

But Rockport was quickly passed and Negro Island, at the mouth of Camden
harbor, was before them. There was a lighthouse on the island, standing
there like an old woman in a white dress and black cap.

Now the mountains, seeming to rise from the very sea, were near at hand
and strikingly beautiful, clothed in their summer garments of green. On
the top of the nearest mountain stood a hotel with a