to the
drifting derelict.

As her stern lights flashed for an instant and then were shut out in the
fog, Rob's companions came rushing on deck.

"What is it? What has happened?" demanded the ensign, readily perceiving
that something very serious had occurred.

Rob, still shaky from his experience, related, as briefly as possible,
just what had caused his cry of alarm.

"Well, those liners take desperate chances," commented the officer; "had
they struck us, not only we, but they, would have been seriously
injured."

"Gee! I wish you could have found time to ask 'em to throw us some
sandwiches," said Tubby, rubbing his stomach; "I'm as empty as a dry
gourd."

"I reckon we could all do with something to eat," chorused the other
young "Eagles".

The ensign bade them cheer up.

"By daylight we may have a wind, and then, with the fog gone, it won't
take long for some vessel to pick us up."

He spoke with a cheerfulness he was actually far from feeling. In fact,
his boyish listeners were not inclined to look hopefully on the
situation. By this time every one of them would have given almost all he
possessed for a big pitcher of cool ice water.

"I will take the remainder of your watch, Rob," said the ensign, with a
glance at his watch. "You only had a few minutes to serve anyway, and
the next round of duty is mine."

"Very well," said Rob; "to tell the truth, a nap would feel pretty good.
I hope things will have cleared by the time I wake up."

The boys went below, leaving the officer on the fog-circled deck. The
mist gleamed on everything, the rays of the candle-lamp making them
glisten as if water had been newly poured on them. Far off the hoarse
hooting of the ship that had so nearly run them down was to be heard.

"Narrow escape, that! Narrower than I quite care to admit, even to
myself," mused the young officer. "I wonder if those lads realize how
bad a fix we are in. I must confess I don't like the look of things at
all."

He fell to pacing the deck, and then decided to have a cigar. For this
purpose he produced a perfecto from his pocket and lighted it. Then he
fell to pacing the deck once more, thinking deeply. His cigar finished,
he tossed it aside. Possibly it was his worry over their predicament
that made him absent-minded in this regard, but instead of observing the
rule of the sea to cast all such things overboard, he threw it to the
deck. A lurch of the _Good Hope_ caused the glowing butt of the