Who—oo! blows the hoarse, loud whistle, for the fog hangs low[240] and thick:
Dong! dong! rings the pilot’s signal; plash! plash! go the mammoth wheels,
And into the gloomy shadows, like a monster swan she steals.[241]
A hundred souls are sleeping, and the engine’s throbbing drone[242]
Has lulled the weary look-out with its drowsy monotone.
Now the mist is lifting[243] slightly, and a light[244] gleams on the shore—
’Tis gone; now the night grows blacker,[245] more dismal than before:
Who-oo! goes the whistle hoarsely, but the steamer plows along,
For the pilot knows his bearings and he softly hums a song.
Who—oo! comes a sound, and faintly, like an echo far away;