“what’s that?” cried ted, sitting up in bed, his mind too dulled by sleep to identify the sound that had awakened him so suddenly.
“what’s what?” growled his brother, who had been aroused by ted’s cry.
“that noise i heard?”
“noise nothing! go to sleep! you were dreaming.”
“but i tell you i heard something. why, it—”
his words were interrupted, however, by the ear-splitting screech of the admiral’s siren.
“there! what did i tell you?” gloated the younger boy. “i knew—”
but again his words were silenced by another shrill whistle.
a veritable roar replied from the admiral’s siren.
reaching quickly above his head, phil switched on the electric lights in the cabin, and the boys stared at one another as a still different-toned whistle joined in the pandemonium.
“fog!” they gasped, almost in the same breath. and even as they uttered the word, they sprang to the floor, their minds recalling the statement of captain perkins in regard to the danger from the palls of mist.
never another word did either of them speak as they got into their clothes with a rapidity that would have established a record for quick-dressing, had any one been present to time them.
still silent, they rushed to the door and threw it open, then paused. not a yard could they see ahead of them.
the screech of the admiral’s siren seemed continuous, interrupted incessantly by other whistles, while apparently from all about them, so does a superior fog distort all sense of direction, came hails, some loud, others faint, in accordance with the distance of their utterers, “don’t see a thing!” from the lookouts on the carriers.
“let’s go to the bridge,” whispered phil, in an awed tone.
“but we may lose our way—and fall overboard. you know what captain perkins said about bodies—”
“forget that,” cut in the elder boy. “just take hold of my arm. i’ll keep one hand on the cabin. come on.”
as they gained the bridge, the young passengers were just able to distinguish half a dozen forms.
“see anything?” queried the skipper’s voice, its tone indicating the tension under which he was, as there came an instant’s lull in the riot of siren screeches and whistles.
“thought i saw something off the port bow a minute ago,” responded a voice which neither of the boys could identify, then it added: “but i can’t see it now.”
“how about lying to?” suggested the first mate.
“don’t dare to,” replied the captain. “those other boats are so close, i’ve simply got to have steerage way. she’s checked to quarter speed now.”
“wireless! wireless!” shouted another voice. “the prescott wants to know our course and position. she’s east by north, half east, off moose point.”
“at the wheel, there! what’s our course?” demanded the skipper.
“north by east, half north,” answered the wheelsman.
“same course,” snapped captain perkins. “mr. adams, where do you think we are?”
when word of the request had been announced, the first mate had darted below to the pilot house and was scanning the log-book.
“according to our speed and the last bearing entered, we ought to be off moose point,” he called to the skipper.
“tell the prescott we are on the same course and in practically the same position she is. tell her to swing a point east and i’ll swing a point north. get that?”
“aye, aye, sir!” replied the wireless operator.
scarcely had the instruments begun to crash out their message than there rose a terrified shout:
“boat ahoy, sir! right off the port bow!”
“hard astarboard! hard astarboard!” bellowed captain perkins to his wheelsman, while he sprang to his buttons and frantically signalled for full speed astern.
and even as he spoke, there loomed a towering, fog-magnified mass, seemingly right upon them.
the lookouts on the prescott had spied the admiral only a few seconds after the latter’s, and while captain perkins was giving his orders, a frenzied ringing of bells proved that her skipper was also doing his utmost to avert the collision which meant the foundering of both boats, because they were loaded, his vessel being older and not equipped with the modern system for signalling the engine room.
though both carriers had been creeping through the fog with barely steerage way, it seemed to the anxious groups on each that they were racing together at express-train speed. but the reversed propellers of the admiral were doing their work, the boat checked with a suddenness that sent the boys and some of the crew sprawling on the bridge, quivered and then began to back, the bow swinging away from the prescott.
“port your wheel, hard over!” ordered captain perkins, as his boat moved astern.
still the prescott came on, then her propellers bit, and she, too, checked, but not before her nose was where the huge carrier’s had been scarce a moment before.
farther and farther to the right swung the bow of the admiral, while the prescott began to swerve to the left, and the danger was over.
“great work, perkins! you’ve saved our lives!” megaphoned the other carrier’s skipper as she passed on.
“too close! i don’t want any more like—” began captain perkins, when there came frenzied shouts from the admiral’s stern, which were quickly passed by the crew on deck, acting as lookouts, to the bridge: “boat ahoy! off the starboard stern!”
“take the bridge, mr. adams,” exclaimed the skipper, ordering full speed ahead. “keep your eyes open in front!” and he hurried to the deck.
“wireless, sir! prescott wants to know if she shall stand by?” called the operator.
“tell her ‘yes’!” shouted back captain perkins, as he ran aft, where he quickly mounted the superstructure, the better to see, having instructed hansen to station men to pass his orders to the chief in the engine room.
the other boat, however, had heard the cries and located the admiral, thus averting the danger of collision by a wider margin than in the case of the prescott.
but the shouts and exchange of hails had carried far through the fog, and again whistles and sirens screeched in all directions.
when a lull came, the admiral’s skipper raised to his lips the megaphone he had carried from the bridge.
“ahoy, astern! who are you?” he demanded. “palmer,” came the answer. “we picked up your wireless, admiral. there are boats all around us. how are we going to get out of this tangle?”
“i’m going to wireless everybody within fifteen miles to check and just keep steerage way.”
“reckon that’s the safest thing, but all the boats haven’t wireless.”
“we’ll have to watch out for those that haven’t. bring the palmer close to my stern and swing to right angles. i’ll hold the prescott off my bow. the three of us can protect each other.”
“right-o!” exclaimed the captain of the palmer, and mr. perkins hastened to the bridge, where he quickly gave instructions to his operator, adding: “tell each boat to answer, and that i’ll report her to the association if she refuses.” for five minutes the man at the wireless instruments sent out the code call for the attention of the other boats, then flashed the captain’s orders through the fog. twice he repeated them, then waited for replies.
one by one they came in and were reported to the skipper.
“the wolcott wants to know how she can protect herself from other boats bound down behind her, if she checks,” announced the operator.
“tell her to send out her position when we have finished.”
for some time there was silence, then captain perkins called:
“how many answers have you received?”
“eighteen, sir.”
“that ought to give you boys an idea of the danger in a superior fog,” commented the skipper, turning to his young passengers. “with twenty-one boats within fifteen miles, counting the palmer, prescott and ourselves, and nobody knows how many others that haven’t any wireless, there are plenty of chances for collisions.”
“why, it’s three o’clock,” exclaimed phil, looking at his watch. “what time did the fog set in?”
“fifteen minutes past twelve,” returned the first mate.
“how long will it last?”
“goodness knows,” sighed the skipper. “i’ve seen them set in and lift inside an hour and i’ve seen ’em hold three days. your opinion is as good as mine.”
“will all these boats be drifting for three days, if the fog holds that long?” asked ted.
“unless we can arrange some plan to keep out of the way of one another. only there are more likely to be sixty than twenty-one boats floating about if the fog holds that long.”
too careful a navigator to turn over his vessel to the mate when his judgment and nerve might be needed at any moment to meet an emergency, captain perkins went into the pilot house, where he regaled the boys with stories of other fogs.
“it’s lifting! it’s lifting!” suddenly shouted a voice, joyfully.
quickly the skipper was on his bridge, followed by phil and ted.
in the east a pink glow suffused the mist pall, before which the fog receded. as dawn burst, the colour effect was gorgeous, and when the sun seemingly leaped from the lake, the fog vanished as if by magic.
in amazement, the young homesteaders looked about them. the water was apparently alive with boats as far as they could see in all directions.
