Not daring to take too many chances, the Fancy was run at half speed. Thus they had covered about a mile when they heard a hoarse whistle coming from a distance.
“There is one of the big steamers now!” cried Gif.
“I hope she isn’t headed our way,” put in Spouter, quickly.
The boys continued to toot the horn of the motor boat, and listened intently to the deep tone coming from the unknown. Slowly but surely the warning through the fog kept coming closer and closer.
“My gracious! she’s coming this way as sure as fate,” burst out Fred. “Toot that horn for all you’re worth!”
“Let’s yell,” suggested Randy, and all of the boys yelled with might and main, making as much noise as they had ever made in their lives.
“I’ve got an idea!” cried Andy, presently, and dashed into the cabin. He reappeared with a tin pan and a big spoon. At once he began to beat on the pan as hard as he could.
It was a time of intense anxiety. Although they strained their eyes to the utmost, none of the lads could pierce the blanket of fog which hung thickly on every side. They turned on the searchlight, but even this revealed nothing but the murky water just ahead of them.
And in that dense fog the hoarse notes from the steamer were highly deceptive. First the boys thought they came from the right, then from the left, and then they were certain they were dead ahead. Their nerves were tense, and every second seemed like an hour. And slowly but surely the warning whistle came closer and closer.