"Don't worry; everything will come out all right," he said; "we are in the track of ships, and——"
"But in this dense fog, that fact make it all the more dangerous," declared Rob, and the young officer could not but answer him with a nod in the affirmative.
"I can't help admitting that, my boy," was his further rejoinder; "all we can do is to trust to Providence and hope that the fog will disappear before long."
"Let's whistle for a wind," suggested Rob, who had heard of sailors doing such a thing.
"Better than doing nothing. It will fill the time in, anyway," agreed the ensign.
The boys squatted in a circle.
"What will we whistle?" asked Merritt.
"'Wait Till the Clouds Roll By,' of course," rejoined Rob.
As the plaintive notes came from the whistlers' puckered lips, Tubby sauntered up, his hands in his tunic pockets.
"What are you doing?" he asked, staring at them, "gone crazy with the heat, or what?"