"Is the engine still broken?" asked Polly, fearing that this was a delicate question, but anxious to learn.
"Dead as a door nail," Larry responded. "Can't raise a choke. I'm blest if I know what the trouble is. I cleaned the spark plug particular yesterday, so that can't be the answer."
He bent over the engine again and Fred held a flashlight for him.
"I never was up at midnight before," whispered Polly, a little thrilled in spite of her uncomfortableness. "Look how funny it looks way off there—like something white coming up."
"Fog," Larry said briefly. "Have to sound our horn this time, too. I don't know where we are. Suppose it will wake up the other kids?"
"What kind of a horn?" asked Fred eagerly. "I didn't know you had one! Let me blow it, Larry?"
"Have to have a fog horn—law says so," Larry jerked out. "The Clara's horn wasn't built for ocean work, so don't laugh when you hear it. Pull that cord there on your right."
Fred seized the bit of frayed cord and pulled with right good will. Something gave a funny squeak that woke up Margy and Jess and Ward and Artie so suddenly that it was a mercy they didn't tumble overboard.
"What was that?" cried Margy.