Sure, it’s so popular that the weekend crowds practically double the population of this artsy seaside village. But that view—oh, that view. Sailboats pass under a hand-cranked wooden drawbridge into minuscule Perkins Cove. Across the harbor, impossibly green lawns tumble down to the water’s edge. Meanwhile, you’re taking it all in from Billy’s open-air deck, over a bowl of paprika-spiced clam chowder and a rum punch. Ship’s bells clang, seagulls squawk—and finally the counter girl calls: “Number 24, please! Lobster rolls for two-four!” Never was there a sweeter sound.