is badly damaged, captain?" asked Rob anxiously.
The idea of the stranded ship lost in the dense fog affected him
strangely.

"Can't tell," the captain replied to his question, "may have stove a
hole in herself and be sinking now."

"Can't we do something to help them?" asked Merritt eagerly.

"Only one thing we can do, boy, and that's full uv danger."

"What is it?" demanded Rob, ignoring the last part of the captain's
speech.

"Get in ther boat and go out thar to 'em. If they're sinkin' we can
help 'em a whole lot, and--"

The captain stopped short in amazement.

Rob, Merritt and Tubby had already started for the beach and Hiram,
"the wireless scout", was close on their heels.

"Well, douse my toplights," exclaimed the captain, rising to his feet
and lumbering after them, "Yer can't beat the Boy Scouts."

CHAPTER XXIV

A MEETING IN THE FOG--CONCLUSION

"Can you make her out?"

Five pairs of eyes peered through the mist that hung like a white pall
an every side of the Flying Fish.

"Stop that motor a minute, while I listen!"

In compliance with Rob's order Merritt shut down the panting engine.

"What's that noise off there?" asked Hiram suddenly.

"That sort of throbbing sound?" rejoined Tubby Hopkins.

"That's it, sounds like a big heart beating," put in Rob.

"I guess that's their engine. They're tryin' ter back her off,"
suggested the captain.

"Give them a blast on that fog-horn and see if they answer," said Rob
suddenly.

Hiram took up the big brass fish-horn, used as a fog signal on the
Flying Fish, and blew a loud, long call.

After an interval of waiting, from out of the mist came the wail of the
stranded ship's siren once more.

"There she is, right in there," declared the captain, pointing seaward
into the mist. "Steer right on that tack, Rob, and we'll pick her up
pretty soon."

The motor was started up once more and the Flying Fish forged ahead
through the smother. Suddenly Rob, with a sharp cry of:

"Stop her!" swung his wheel over sharp and the Flying Fish headed about.

The gleaming black rampart of a large vessel's side had suddenly loomed
up dead ahead of him.

"Ahoy! aboard the steamer," roared the captain, framing his mouth with
his hands, "what ship is that?"

"The El Paso from London to New York," came back a hail from somewhere
above them in a somewhat surprised tone, "who are you?"

"The Flying Fish of Hampton, Long Island," responded Rob, with a