"Wal, I kine o' think we'll manage it."
"How soon?"
"Wal, not much afore midday. You see we're driftin away jest now."
"Don't you intend to anchor till the next rise of tide?"
"O, yes; in about ten minutes we'd ought to be about whar I want to anchor."
At this disheartening condition of affairs the boys sank once more into a state of gloom. In about ten minutes, as Captain Corbet said, the schooner was at anchor, and there was nothing to do but to wait.
"We'll run in at turn o' tide," said he.
Breakfast came, and passed. The meal was eaten in silence. Then they went on deck again, fretting and chafing at the long delay. Not much was said, but the boys stood in silence, trying to see through the thick fog.
"It was so fine when we left," said Bart, "that I thought we'd have it all the way."
"Wal, so we did—pooty much all; but then, you see, about four this mornin we run straight into a fog bank."