iously through the moist pane ahead and,
without saying anything of his fears to the rest, drew the throttle a
few notches down and kept the _Adventurer_ close to her course. Behind,
the _Follow Me_ speeded up as well and the two boats hurried for where,
out of sight in the grey void ahead, West Chop pointed a blunt nose to
sea.

But it was a losing race, for ten minutes later Steve saw that the fog
bank was rolling down upon them and from somewhere to the eastward came
the dismal hoot of a steamer feeling her way along. Joe, too, saw what
they were in for and turned anxiously to Steve. "That's fog, isn't it?"
he asked.

Steve nodded. "Get the fog-horn ready, will you? We don't want anyone
bumping into us. I'm going to slow down to six miles. There's too much
water here to drop anchor in." He eyed the advancing fog distastefully
and then shrugged his shoulders. "You've got to learn some time, I
suppose, Joe, and here's where I learn to make harbour by the compass.
Now we're in it!"

At that instant the grey mist enveloped them silently, chillingly. Joe
drew a long wail from the fog-horn and in response a similar but
higher-keyed wail came through the fog from the _Follow Me_. And at the
same moment the other members of the ship's company stuck inquiring
heads through the companion ways.

"Hello," exclaimed Perry. "Fog! Gee, that's exciting! Say, you can't see
a thing, can you? Look, fellows, the boat hasn't any bow!"

"Nor any stern," added Han. "You can almost taste the stuff. Say, Steve,
isn't it hard to steer in a fog?"

"Not a bit," answered Steve cheerfully. "Steering's perfectly easy. The
only trouble is to steer right."

"To-o-ot!" said the fog-horn and was answered from astern. Then
somewhere to the south-eastward a siren sent a wailing cry, subdued by
distance. The fog settled on everything and shone on the boys' sweaters
in little beads of moisture. The _Adventurer_ seemed to be standing
still, for, with nothing to judge by, progress was made known only by
the slow lazy throb of the engine. Even the water alongside was scarcely
discernible. Joe pulled the lever of the fog-horn again, and this time,
beside the response from the _Follow Me_, an answering bellow came
across the water.

"A steamer," muttered Steve, peering uselessly into the grey void.
"She's a good ways off, though. Give her another pull, Joe."

Again the _Adventurer_ proclaimed her position but there was no answer
from the steamer. "