“Must have blown up a little fog,” spoke Jerry. “I guess we’ll put back. It didn’t look as it was going to be thick weather when we started.”
He swung the boat around and headed for what he supposed was the shore. As the boat speeded on the mist became thicker, until they could scarcely see two hundred feet ahead of them.
“Better slow down; hadn’t you?” suggested Bob. “We might hit something.”
“Yes, for goodness, sake, don’t have a collision,” begged Nellie.
“We ought to be pretty near shore,” remarked Jerry. “I’ll keep on a little longer, and we’ll come pretty near the dock, I think.”
He tried to peer ahead into the fog, but it slowly settled down in lazy, curling wreaths, that made it as hard to see through as though a white blanket had been hung in front of him.
“Hark! What’s that’?” asked Olivia, holding up her hand.
Out of the mist there came the dismal clang of a bell.
“Dong! Ding! Dong!”
“A vessel!” cried Bob. “Look out, Jerry, or we’ll be run down.”