Steve was already looking at the peculiar way in which their companion boat was dying out of sight, till it was perfectly invisible; and yet it was clear about where they were, only for a few minutes, though. Then there was a faint, gauzy film close by, into which they rowed, and as they passed completely in, the Hvalross was almost hidden; five minutes later it was not to be seen.
The mist was upon them, thickening each moment, and a curiously depressing chill came over the boy. It was as if the cold were attacking his mind as well as his body, and he quite started as the deep voice of Johannes said, the words sounding muffled:
“Keep your helm fast, sir. We mustn’t miss the ship.”
“Mustn’t miss the ship,” thought Steve, with a strange sense of dread creeping over him now like another and darker mist. “If we did miss her, what then?”
Chapter Twelve.
A Strange Peril.
It seemed hard to believe, so rapidly had the change taken place. Only a few minutes before, and they were gliding along with the blue sky above and the air perfectly clear; now everything was shut out, even Johannes in the bows of the boat looking indistinct from where Steve and the captain were seated in the stern.
Captain Marsham made no verbal reply to the warning of the Norseman, but his right arm which held the steering oar grew rigid, and he did not stir from his position.