"What boat'll we take?"
"This one right here is as handy as any, I guess," Jack replied. "If only the ropes don't creak when we lower it."
"If it wasn't for the sharks we could swim it and not make a bit of noise."
"I know, but it would be sure death to try that so it's out of the question. It's the boat or nothing."
They worked carefully and, although the rope creaked at times loudly enough to make them expect the captain or their uncle would, at any moment, come down to see what was up, they finally felt the rope slacken and knew that they had succeeded so far at least. The fog was, if anything, thicker than ever as they quickly slid down the rope and, in another minute, they were off.
"Not a sound with those oars, now," Bob cautioned as he picked up a paddle.
"Maybe you'd better paddle," Jack suggested. "These oar locks have got the squeaks."
"Ship 'em then," Bob ordered. "I guess I can manage it."
The fog was now so dense that Bob had to rely entirely on his sense of direction but, fortunately, he was very good at keeping a straight line in the dark. Jack was in the bow straining his eyes for all he was worth in an effort to pierce the fog but, as he afterward confided to Bob, he might as well have kept them closed. He was unable to see a foot ahead of the boat.
"Don't you think we ought to be about there?" he whispered after Bob had been paddling for some moments.