"

So "Solomon Levi" followed, and they all joined in on the chorus. Other
lively songs were sung, and, by the time Frank put aside the guitar all
were in fairly good spirits.

Merriwell arranged the program of standing watch. Hans was relieved
before they turned in.

All through the night they took turns at standing watch and blowing away
at intervals on the fog horn. And the night passed quickly enough
without event.

When morning came, however, the fog still hung on the surface of the
water. They ate a light breakfast, and Frank fell to walking the deck
impatiently.

"If there was a breeze, this fog would be liable to lift," he said. "It
is disgusting."

After a little a light breeze rose, but it did not clear away the fog
entirely. However, the coming of the sun had some effect on it, and it
was not long before Merry decided to get up anchor and run up the sails.

The anchor was hoisted and the sails set. Frank took the wheel.

During the night the old swell had run out. Frank had studied his chart
till he believed he knew about where they lay, and he set his course by
the compass.

Not ten minutes after getting under way they found they were headed
straight for an island. In their vicinity the fog was not heavy, but out
beyond the island lay a bank of it.

Immediately on sighting the island, Frank changed the course of the
yacht, bringing her almost about. Then he ran out past the island,
headed for the fog bank.

All at once there was a strange sound, a roaring swish of water. Not one
of them was certain which direction the sound came from.

"Vot dot vos?" exclaimed Hans, in alarm.

"Keep still!" ordered Frank.

The sounds grew louder.

Then, all at once, Hans flung up his hands and shouted:

"Reef your rudder, Vrankie! You vos running a sdeampoat ofer us!"

Out of the fog bank, just ahead, came a large side-wheel steamer, headed
straight toward them!

Frank sighted the steamer at the same moment Hans saw it, and he
realized their peril. It was the Boston boat, _City of Bangor_, on its
course up the bay.

In the twinkling of an eye, Merriwell threw the wheel over and over, the
_White Wings_ swung to port, but headed straight across the course of
the great steamer.

Hoo-oo-oot! hoo-oo-oot! hoo-oo-oot! sounded the hoarse warning whistle
from the steamer.

"If you had been whistling through that fog bank all would have been
right," muttered Merriwell, through his set teeth. "Now, if you r