"We ought to have a horn," said Sam. "Some big boat may come along and run us down."
"There is a horn in the cabin pantry," replied Martin Harris. "We might as well bring it out. If we are sunk one or more of us will most likely be drowned."
"Oh, don't say that!" ejaculated Carter. "I'll get the horn," and, running below, he brought it up, and he and Sam took turns at blowing it with all the strength of their lungs.
"One thing is comforting; those rascals are no better off than we are," was Tom's comment.
"Yes; but if they founder, what will become of Dora?"
"I don't believe any one of them would put himself out to save her."
"I guess you're right there, Dick. I never thought of her, poor girl," replied the brother.
Dick and Sergeant Brown were well up in the bow, one watching to starboard and the other to port, for anything which might appear through the gloom. The horn was blowing constantly, and now from a distance came the sounds of both horns and bells.
"We are getting close to some other ships," said Martin Harris. "I reckon we had best take a few reefs in the mainsail and stow away the jib," and these suggestions were carried out.
The minutes that followed were anxious ones, for all felt that a collision might occur at any moment. The fog was growing thicker each instant, and this, coupled with the coming of night, seemed to shut them in as with a pall.