“Gee, I hope they haven’t, old top,” said Tom. “I’m afraid it might be rather an inconvenience to you to lose them just now. It will be quite a handicap when you try to run a few days from now, don’t you think?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I think I could run about as fast on my hands as you could on your feet,” retorted Bert, and turned the laugh against Tom.
But by now it was really impossible to see objects more than five feet away, and the boys had to grope their way about with outstretched hands, like so many blind persons. After a while somebody started a game of “blind-man’s tag,” as they christened it. The one who was “it” had to locate the others by sound, and when he thought he had done so would make a wild rush in the general direction of the noise. Then there would be a wild scramble to get out of his way, and more than one laughing athlete was sent sprawling in a head-on collision. They kept this up till they were tired, and then dropped down on the deck to rest and listen to the yarns of the sailors. Naturally these tales were all about troubles at sea due to fogs, and many a weird story was told that stamped the teller as an inventive genius. Each one tried to crowd more exciting events into his tale than the last narrator, and the result was lurid.
Of course, in most of the stories some part was based on an actual occurrence, but to sift out the truth was like looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack. However, these old tars were past masters at the art, and there is no doubt that they made their stories interesting. The boys listened with great interest, now and then putting in a question when it seemed needed.
Mermaids and sea serpents abound in many of these yarns, and, as Bert afterward remarked, “seemed commoner than squirrels in a park.” But they passed the time away very pleasantly, and before the boys realized it, Reddy was among them, commanding, “Off with ye now, and get a good night’s rest. Ye should have all been in bed a good half-hour ago.”
Of course there was no resisting this mandate, even had they been so inclined, so off to bed they went, groping and stumbling through the fog, that by this time had grown dense almost beyond belief.
“Good-night!” exclaimed Tom, as he tripped over a coil of rope and then slipped on the slippery deck. “I only hope this old tub doesn’t go ramming any icebergs the way the old Titanic did a little while ago. Mermaids may be all right in stories, but I don’t care to make their acquaintance under water just yet a while.”
“No, I think I can pike along a little while longer without a closer acquaintance,” laughed Bert, “and also without seeing any hundred-foot sea serpents in their native element. Why, according to the stories we’ve just been swallowing, one of those fellows could twine himself around the Woolworth Building and wave his head over the roof without half trying.”
“Without a doubt,” said Dick, “and I imagine it would be rather embarrassing to look up and find one gazing at you through the skylight.”
“I wouldn’t be a bit surprised,” said Bert. “However, I guess we won’t lie awake very long to-night worrying about it.”