“Goin’ t’ be thick as mud,” Jimmie grumbled.
“Wisht we was more inshore,” said Bagg, anxiously.
At dusk the fog was so thick that every landmark had been blotted from sight. 131
“Is you able t’ see Mad Mull?” Jimmie demanded.
“I is not,” said Bagg.
Mad Mull was lost in the fog. It was the last landmark. The tickle rocks, through which a passage leads to the harbour, had long ago vanished.
“Wisht we was home,” said Bagg.
“Don’t you go an’ get scared, Bagg,” Jimmie laughed. “Never you fear. I’ll take you home.”
It was hot, dark and damp––a breathless evening. There was a menace in the still air and heat. A roll of thunder sounded from the northeast.
“I ’low ’twill blow afore long,” said Jimmie.