IN THE FOG
"We've been going two whole days now," declared Perry, "and we haven't
even glimpsed an adventure." It was Tuesday morning and the two cruisers
were lying side by side in New Bedford harbour. A light drizzle was
falling and even under the awning of the bridge deck everything was
coated with a film of moisture. The _Adventurer_ and the _Follow Me_ had
done just short of a hundred miles yesterday, reaching the present port
at nightfall. They had averaged fifteen miles an hour and neither engine
had missed an explosion all day long. Joe had been rather stuck-up over
the way his engine had performed and had been inclined to take a good
share of the credit to himself. Perry, however, had declared that the
only reason the thing had run was because Joe had left it alone.
"It's lucky for us you're afraid to touch it," said Perry. "If you
weren't we'd have been wallowing around somewhere between here and
Africa two days ago!"
It had been too late to go ashore for sight-seeing last evening, and
they had put it off until morning. And now it was drizzling in a steady,
whole-hearted way that promised to make sight-seeing a miserable
business. Some of the crew of the _Follow Me_ had come aboard to discuss
plans and the question was whether to remain in harbour and await better
weather or to set out again and run as far as Martha's Vineyard. Perry
was all for action, and he had the support of numerous others, but Steve
pointed out that running the cruiser in such weather in strange waters
was not over pleasant. "It's all well enough for the rest of you, for
all you have to do is lie around and read, but it's another thing to
stand up there at the wheel and keep from running into the landscape!"
"Give her to me," advised Perry. "I'll get her to Edgartown or wherever
you want to go, right-side-up with care."
"If you take the wheel," said Han, "I get out and walk every foot of the
way."
"Better put your rubbers on," suggested Wink Wheeler.
"You fellows make me very tired," continued Perry severely. "You call
yourselves the Adventure Club and start out to see some sport, and then
the first time there's a heavy mist you want to stick around an old
harbour for fear you'll get damp! We've been going two whole days now,
and we haven't even glimpsed an adventure!"
"An adventure is one thing," said Ossie, "and getting drowned is
something else again. Tell you what, Perry; if you are so keen for sport
why don't you slip into the tender and run over to Vineyard Haven
yourself? We'll follow along tomorrow, or maybe this afternoon."
"I want to see this town," said Joe. "There's lots to look at in here.
Whaling ships and a museum and--and lots of romantic things."
"The whaling ships are all gone now," said Perry disdainfully. "They've
chopped them all up and sold them by the cord for fire wood. I know, for
we bought a lot of it once. It cost dad about ten dollars for express
and didn't burn any different from any other wood. My grandmother--"
Steve groaned. "For the love of lemons, Perry, don't resurrect your
grandmother. Let the poor old lady lie."
"She isn't dead," denied Perry indignantly. "She's ninety-one and a heap
smarter than you are."
"Perry," charged Joe severely, "I distinctly remember you telling us
that your grandmother died of sea-sickness."
"I didn't. I told you she ate lemons and--"
"Died of acid stomach? Oh, all right. I knew she was dead."
"Oh, dry up! She ate lemons to keep from being sea-sick, you idiot. And
if you ate them you wouldn't have to lug around a lot of silly medicine
that doesn't amount to a row of pins. And if--"
"All very interesting," interrupted Phil mildly, "but it isn't deciding
whether we're to stay here or go on. Personally, I think that that
should be up to the captain. If he isn't to decide whether the weather
is right or wrong, who is?"
"That's so," agreed several. "Steve's the captain. What you say goes,
Steve."
"Very well. Then we'll stay here until it stops misting, or, at any
rate, until tomorrow. If it's still nasty then and you fellows want to
go on, I'll go. Now let's go ashore and see what's doing."
"O Harry!" called Wink. "We're going to stay until tomorrow. Come
ashore."
In spite of the drizzle they found a good deal to interest them in New
Bedford, and Joe actually did find a whaler, although it was no longer
in commission. At noon, Ossie, having made many purchases in the town,
served a dinner that made the world look a lot brighter. Afterwards the
crews of the two boats exchanged calls, read, dozed, played the
graphophone and didn't much care whether it drizzled or not. Toward the
end of the day the sun peered forth experimentally and there followed
another expedition ashore. But the sun soon gave up its attempt to do
any business that day and the drizzle set in harder than ever. In the
evening the entire club attended a moving picture show and thus disposed
of several hours that might otherwise have proved difficult to get
through. A motor-boat, no matter how large or luxurious, is not the most
interesting place to live on in wet weather.
The next morning the mist had ceased, but the sun was hidden behind dark
clouds and the world was still rather dreary. But plenty of hot coffee,
some of Ossie's baking powder biscuits and the almost invariable fried
bacon cheered them remarkably, and at a little past eight the order was
given to weigh anchor and the two cruisers, the _Adventurer_ showing the
way, set forth across Buzzard's Bay for Edgartown.
It was a sixteen-mile run to the channel between Nonamesset Island and
the mainland, and Steve followed the steamboat course closely. The
chart showed many rocks and ledges in the first six miles, but neither
of the cruisers drew enough to make it necessary for their skippers to
worry. There was rough water, however, and Joe was seen to look
anxiously toward the after cabin. A flukey breeze came out of the
southeast and made sweaters comfortable. The shore of Naushon Island was
grey and indistinct when the _Adventurer_ straightened out for the run
across the bay. Behind her the _Follow Me_ plunged gallantly, doing her
fourteen miles without a murmur. As they neared Penzance the sea
moderated and they swung into the channel on an almost even keel. Good
harbours beckoned, and the plan of lying by until after dinner was
discussed and finally abandoned. Edgartown was only another hour's sail
and it would be better to keep on and lie in there for dinner. But when
the _Adventurer_ had passed into Vineyard Sound Steve began to wish he
had waited. A bank of grey mist hid the island toward which they were
headed and he feared they would find themselves in it before they could
reach the nearest harbour, which was Vineyard Haven. But since the
_Adventurer_ had already left Wood's Holl two miles behind and Vineyard
Haven Harbour was only some four miles further it seemed silly to turn
back. There was always the chance that the fog would blow off, besides.
Nevertheless Steve frowned dubiously 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. "She doesn't seem very talkative," said Phil. "How
fast are we going, Steve?"
"Six."
"And how far is Edgartown?"
"About twelve, but we're not going there. I'm trying to make Vineyard
Haven. It's only about two miles." He glanced puzzledly at the compass
and moved the wheel a fraction. "There's a jetty comes out there and I
guess we'd better give it a good wide berth." Collars were pulled up to
keep the moisture from creeping down necks, and Perry begged to be
allowed to manipulate the fog-horn. He went at it whole-souledly and
Steve had to curb his enthusiasm. "Once a minute will do, Perry," he
said. "You sound like a locomotive scaring a cow off the track."
"How do you know there isn't a cow ahead?" demanded Perry. "Or a whale?
Gee, wouldn't it be a surprise if we bust right into a whale? Who would
get the worst of it, Steve?"
"I guess we would. Shut up a minute, fellows, please!"
Silence held the bridge deck, silence save for the subdued purr of the
engine under their feet and the drip, drip of the drops from the awning
edge. Steve peered anxiously ahead, his senses alert. At last:
"Hear anything?" he asked.
They all said no.
"I guess I was mistaken then," Steve explained, "but I could have sworn
I heard surf." He leaned over the chart. "This doesn't show anything,
though, nearer than the land. Toot your horn, Perry."
Perry obeyed. At long intervals the unseen, distant steamer bellowed her
warning and more frequently the _Follow Me_ groaned dismally on a hand
horn. It was ten minutes later, perhaps, when Steve suddenly swung
around and looked back past the bow of the dingey on the after cabin
roof.
"That's funny!" he exclaimed. "The _Follow Me_ sounded away over there!"
He looked anxiously at the compass, hesitated and shook his head. "If I
didn't know this thing was all right, fellows, I'd say it was crazy. Or
if there was a strong current here--" His voice dwindled away to a
murmur as he studied the chart again. Just then the _Follow Me's_
fog-horn sounded and it was undeniably further away and well over to
port. "Either he's off his course or I am," muttered Steve. "And I
simply don't see how I can be. Give them a long one, Perry!"
Perry sent a frantic wail across the water and they listened intently.
But no reply came from the _Follow Me_. Instead, from somewhere off
their port bow travelled the steamer's bellow. That, too, seemed
considerably further away. Then the distant siren sounded, and after
that there was silence again. But the silence lasted only a moment, for
before anyone could hazard a conjecture as to the _Follow Me's_ erratic
behaviour, Phil's voice arose warningly.
"Listen, Steve!" he cried. "Isn't that surf I hear?"