"I'll bet the feller who's on the bridge uv that ship is havin' his own troubles just about now," remarked the captain, "hark at that!"
The whistle was now roaring like a wounded bull, sending distinct vibrations of sound through the increasing fog billows.
"Thick as pea soup," commented the captain, refilling his pipe, "reckon I'll have ter stay here till she lifts a bit. Wind's hauled to the sou'west too. Bad quarter means more fog and smother."
"Who-o-o-o-o!" boomed the siren of the hidden vessel once more, and this time it was answered by another whistle somewhere further off in the fog.
"Two uv 'em now. Stand by fer a collision," shouted the captain, while the scouts, intensely interested in the development of this hidden drama of the fog, clustered about him.
"Who-o-o-o-o! Who-o-o-o-o! Who-o-o-o-o!" came the nearest siren.
"She's standin' in shore," shouted the captain, "boys, she's in grave danger."
"What's she coming in for?" asked Merritt.
"I suppose her skipper thinks he's got plenty uv water under his keel and wants ter give a wide berth ter the other vessel," explained the captain. "Boys, if only we had a big bell or a steam whistle we could warn them poor fellows uv their peril."
"It does seem hard to hear them blundering in and not be able to warn them," agreed Rob, "there should have been a lighthouse put on these shoals long ago."