“Gracious!” he exclaimed in dismay. “Fog!”
“Yes, that’s what it is, all right.”
“Then we’re lost!”
Tom’s voice was quavery with sudden alarm, but Jack kept a steady head.
“Now, don’t get rattled,” he admonished. “Keep cool, just as you would if you were lost in the woods.”
The haze grew momentarily thicker. In white, wraith-like folds it encompassed them, beating in softly all about them, like the waves of a vaporous sea.
“Let’s see,” mused Jack, “the White Shark lay off that way, didn’t she, when we saw her last?”
He pointed out into the steamy white smother.
“But are you sure she did?” asked Tom, whose pluck was coming back now that the first shock was over.
“Almost certain. At any rate, we’ll pull in that direction. Give me one oar and you take the other; we shall get along faster so.”