Part of the time the "Victor" sounded its fog-horn with pauses longer than the rules of the sea permitted in so deep a fog. It looked as though those aboard the steam yacht were willing to leave it to the "Panther" to warn away other craft from them both. However, thus far in the day, no other vessel had sounded through the fog. Apparently, these two craft had all of this part of the sea to themselves.
In the silence and under the white pall even the interest of the chase could not prevent the time from passing with deadly monotony for Ab Perkins. Quite plainly it impressed also the others that way, for the cabin passengers, two or three at a time, disappeared below. Messrs. Baldwin and Ross remained on deck more than any of the cabin party, though even they went inside, restlessly, every now and then.
At last the deck was bare, save for Ab Perkins and the bow watch. In the pilot house stood the quartermaster and his seaman helper. On the bridge Mr. Costigan paced back and forth, glad that the fog was not too thick for him to make out the first officer forward.
One of Ab's reasons for being well up forward was that he might more readily hear the sound of fog-horn or of bell from any other vessel hidden away in this white gloom.
It was a long while before he heard anything, but at last it came:
"Help! Don't run me down!"
The voice came from low down upon the water, somewhat ahead and barely to port.
Quick as a flash the bow watch turned to see if the first officer and the bridge watch had heard. Both Perkins and Costigan had sprung to see what might come to them out of the fog.
"Careful!" warned Ab, in a steady voice. "Take the sound of my voice for your guide. I'm at the port rail, moving toward you."
Suddenly, out of the fog, there came into view, near at hand, a ship's yawl. It contained a single man, dark, rather tall and about thirty years of age. He was dressed carelessly, yet had much the air of a gentleman. His clothing seemed to be soaked with moisture, as though he had been long exposed to the elements. With his back to the bow of the yawl, the man turned to glance over his shoulder as he handled a pair of oars.