ngaged with the work in the purser's
office, had occasion to take a message to the pilot, and he found his
friend anxiously looking out of the big windows in front of the
pilot-house, while Andrew Simmon, the assistant, was handling the big
wheel.

"I don't like it, Andy; I don't like it a bit," Mr. Weatherby was
saying. "It's going to be a nasty, thick night, and just as we're
beginning that risky passage. I've almost a notion to ask the captain
to lay-to until morning. There's good holding ground here."

"Oh, I guess we can make it," replied Andrew confidently. "We've done
it before, in a fog."

"Yes, I know we have, but I always have a feeling of dread. Somehow,
now, I feel unusually nervous about it."

"You aren't losing your nerve, are you?" the young helper asked his
chief.

"No--but--well, I don't like it, that's all."

"Shall I ask the captain to anchor?"

"No, he's anxious to keep on. We'll try it, Andy, but we'll both stay
in the pilot-house until we're well past the dangerous point, that one
where the rocks stick out."

"But there's a lighthouse there, Mr. Weatherby."

"I know there is, but if this fog keeps on getting thicker, the light
will do us very little good."

Nat listened anxiously to the conversation. This was a part of the
responsibilities of piloting that had not occurred to him. More than
on a captain, the safety of a vessel rests on a pilot, when one is in
charge. And it is no small matter to feel that one can, by a slight
shift of his hand, send a gallant craft to her destruction, or guide
her to safety.

As night came on the fog grew thicker. Mr. Weatherby and his helper
did not leave the pilot-house, but had their meals sent to them.
Captain Marshall was in frequent consultation with them, and the speed
of the vessel was cut down almost one-half as they approached the
danger point.

From Mr. Dunn, Nat learned when they were in the unsafe passage, for
the purser had been over that route many times.

"We must be close to the point now," said Mr. Dunn, as he and Nat
stood at the rail, trying to peer through the fog. "We'll see the
lighthouse soon. Yes, there it is," and he pointed to where a light
dimly flashed, amid the white curtain of dampness that wrapped the
freighter.

They could hear the lookout, stationed in the bow, call the position
of the light. The course was shifted, the great boat turning slowly.

Suddenly there was a frightened cry from the lookout.

"Rocks!