As they watched and waited, while the “Restless” stole slowly along, the fog about them became steadily lighter, though off to the westward it remained a thick, dense bank. 183
“Say, it’d be great to have four or five miles of clear sea around us, so that we could see whether the seventy-foot boat has kept to anything like our course,” declared Hank.
At last the “Restless” came to within twenty minutes’ hailing distance of the “Glide,” as the young motor boat skipper figured it. Then, a few minutes later, a deep-toned fog-horn came to them faintly. As the minutes passed, now, this blast became heavier and nearer.
“I’ve only a few minutes left with you, Joe, old chum,” declared Captain Tom, with a half-sigh. “You’ll take great, good care of the dear old craft, I know, while I’m gone.”
“As soon as Mr. Seaton is done with the boat I’ll tie her up until you get back—that’s what I’ll do,” grunted Dawson. “No sailing without a skipper for me.”
“You needn’t look so bad about it, Cap,” grinned Hepton. “I wish it was me, cut out for a long trip to Rio and back. Maybe I wouldn’t jump at such a chance. Some folks are born lucky!”
Too-woo-oo!
The oncoming steamship’s deep fog-horn sounded loud and sullen, now. Tom Halstead, still at the wheel, was peering constantly forward for the first glimpse of the freighter, for the fog had lightened much by this time. 184
“There she is!” hailed keen-eyed Joe, on the lookout for this sight. “You can just make out her bow poking up through the fog. She must be a thousand feet off yet.”
With two boats approaching each other, this distance was, of course, quickly covered. Finding that he could see the other craft at such a distance, Skipper Tom threw on a little more speed, making a wide turn and so coming up alongside on a parallel course.