A good deal of motion in the ship; fewer passengers at the breakfast
table. Still Masses are celebrated from 5.30 to 8, and several of
the priests and lay pilgrims receive Holy Communion. In the
afternoon, fogs again steal upon us. They gather around our ship,
these mists of the mighty Atlantic, and envelop her as with a shroud.
They come and go at intervals during the afternoon, forcing us to
slow down and at times come to a standstill, so great is the danger
of collision with an iceberg or an incoming ship. There is nothing
for it but to wait for the fog to lift with such patience as one can
command. We pace the deck, or withdraw to our staterooms and there
listen idly to the murmur of the waves as they beat against the ship,
or brood on the mystery of the sobbing sea.
* * *