pours. The sun shines through,
showing now and then a clear-cut limb in place of the luminous misshapen
brightening that has been with us since sunrise. In fits and starts the
fog thins, and thickens again, at the will of wandering airs.

A west wind comes away, freshens, and stirs the vapour till it whips
close overhead in wraiths and streamers, raises here and there a fold on
the distant horizon, then dies again. Growing in vigour, the breeze
returns; a gallant breath that ruffles the smooth of the sea and sweeps
the round of it, routing the lingering flurries that settle, dust-like,
when the mass is cleared.

The clearing of our outlook produces a curious confusion to the eye. We
have become accustomed to a limited range in sight, and the sudden
change to distant vision, in which there is no standard of position, no
mark to judge by, effects an illusion as of a photographer's plate
developing. Fragments, wisps, and sections of the sea-rim appear,
breaking through as the fog lifts, and seeming strangely high and
foreign in position. Topmasts and a funnel-wreath of black smoke loom up
almost in mid-air; the water-line of a ship's hull grows to sight, low
in the plane as though dangerously close. Distant, obscure, and blurred
formations sharpen suddenly to detail and show our destroyer escort as
almost suspended in mirage, floating in air. Piece by piece, the plate
develops in sensible gradation, fitting and joining with exactitude; the
ships ahead take up their true proportions, the sea-horizon runs to a
definite hard line. Mast and funnel and spar stand out against the piled
and shattered fog-bank, whose rear-guard lingers, sinking but slowly and
sullenly, on the rim of the eastern horizon.

The fog cleared, and a busy seascape in sight, we shake ourselves
together and take heed of appearances. Our convoy signal hangs damp and
twisted on the halyards, and needs to be cleared to blow out for
recognition; the mirrored arc-lamp that we turned astern to aid the
trumpeter is switched out. With the fog-buoy we are less urgent; it will
be time enough to haul it aboard when we are assured the new-born breeze
is healthy and likely to remain with us. The press of work about the
decks has lessened with the hawsers and docking gear stowed away.
Sea-trim is the order now--a war sea-trim, in which the boats, swung
outboard and ready for instant use, rafts tilted to a launching angle,
hoses rigged to lead water, and crew at the gu