"This is one o' the wust places in the world fer a fog," was the Yankee tar's comment. "Afore ye know it if we ain't careful we'll run on a hidden bank. We must keep a strict watch, and keep the fog horn blowing until the fog lifts." And this was done, one and another taking his turn at the big horn until he was tired. Once, about seven o'clock, they heard an answering horn, which seemed to come closer and closer, but just as they felt they had good cause for alarm, the sound began to recede, until it was lost in the distance.
"This is reg'lar smugglers' weather," said old Jacob. "They love it, for they can land goods 'most anywhere, without the custom house officials being the wiser."
"Did you ever run across any smugglers?" questioned Don, who stood by.
"I did once—down on the coast o' Maine. They were bringin' in silk from Chiny, and I helped the revenue officers collar, six o' 'em—strappin' big fellers, too. Three o' the crowd were shot in the mix-up and one o' 'em died in the hospital from his wounds. It was in that muss that I got that," and the old sailor pointed to a long scar along his neck.
"Excuse me, but I want nothing to do with smugglers," shuddered Don. "They must be a bloodthirsty set."
"Some o' 'em are, lad—yet they ain't half so bad as the wreckers—the chaps as sets up false lights along shore to lure a vessel to her doom, so as they kin loot her. Those are the chaps as ought to be hung, every mother's son on 'em!" and old Jacob shook his head decidedly.
It was not until thirty hours had gone by that the fog began to lift, raised by a gentle breeze which sent the Dashaway on her course as lively as ever before.
"Off once more!" shouted Bob. "Hurrah!" and the others joined in the cheer. It was calculated that two days more would bring them within eight of Porto Rico, at a point near Manati, a city located directly in the center of the northern coast, and but a few miles to the westward of San Juan.
But once again their hopes were doomed to disappointment. The wind lasted only until sunrise the next morning, then died out utterly, leaving the sun to boil down on the deck with more fierceness than it had shown for some time.
"Confound the luck!" growled Dick, as he gazed at the idle sails of his craft. "I wonder how long this is going to last."