It was a ghostly trip. At a hundred yards' distance the Ernestina was swallowed up entire in the fog, and thereafter they proceeded blindly in a grey void. Only a little circle of leaden water was visible around them, which travelled with them as they went. At minute intervals the sound of her whistle reached them, but it was only confusing for it seemed to come now from this side, now from that. Fog plays strange tricks with acoustics. Evan steered, keeping the wake of his boat straight and the wind in his left ear.
Finally to his relief the shapes of trees swam out ahead, and he had the comfortable sensation of touching reality again. It is a thickly settled shore, and he was quickly directed to the pier and the village. Here Evan's story quickly won him help from the water-farers. To be sure, two of his men incontinently walked off, but a dozen volunteers offered to replace them. After patient telephoning he succeeded in getting the promise of a tug from Perth Amboy, and stopping only to buy out the greater part of a grocer's stock, he started back.
Within an hour of leaving the Ernestina he was back on board. The mate and Tenterden were still on deck. For a single moment the latter looked at Evan with friendly eyes. No vessel had come within hail, they reported.
Evan hastened down to the saloon. Corinna and her aides had the children pretty well in hand—but a cry of welcome went up at the sight of Evan. Somehow the smallest toddler on board had gathered that Evan was the man of the hour.
"A tug will be along in half an hour to pick us up," Evan announced.
Cheers from the crowd.
"Why, how do you know that?" Corinna demanded of him privately.
"Oh, I just stepped ashore to telephone," said Evan airily.
Corinna sat down suddenly. "You went ashore, and left us!"
Within the promised time they heard a deep-toned whistle searching for them in the fog.