"Wouldn't it be better to anchor, or run in to shore?" suggested Paul, as he and Dick were standing forward, trying in vain to pierce the mist.
"It's just as well to keep on going," explained Widdy, with the freedom engendered by the young millionaire's treatment of him. "It's better to run into some other ship than to be run down yourself, if it's goin' to be done. An' we're safer out here than in nearer shore. We'll be all right, if——"
Widdy suddenly paused, and leaned forward in a listening attitude. Dick and Paul rubbed the drops of fog from their eyes, in a vain attempt to see something. What would loom up in front of them? Some ocean liner, which might cut them in two, and send them swirling to the bottom? Dick felt a sense of fear.
Then, out of the fog, there came the sound of a voice singing, and at the first words the old sailor fairly leaped back from the rail, his wooden leg thumping on the deck. To the ears of the watchers came this song:
"Oh, it's ten long years since I sailed away,
When the wind was blowing free.
And I've anchored since in every port
That's touched by the salty sea.
"There was once just ten in the Sallie Sue,
As we sailed the watery plain.