“Yes, and we are it, I’m afraid.”
The night wore on. It was deathly silent there in the dense fog. In the pauses of the conversation they bravely tried to keep up, they could hear the lapping of the little waves against the side of the boat. This made Jack think what a good thing it was that a gale had not sprung up instead of a fog. In such case, their position would have been even worse.
All at once, far off in the fog, came a peculiar sound—a throbbing like the beating of some titanic heart.
“A steamer!” exclaimed Jack.
This suggested a fresh peril. In the fog they might be run down by the unseen ship. Clearly, judging by the increasing sound of the throbbing propeller, she was coming toward them.
“We must get out of her path!” cried Tom.
“Of course; but how are we to tell just where she is, in this fog? I can’t locate sound at all.”
“No more can I. I only wish it was possible to attract her attention in some way.”
“Why? I don’t see that that would do us much good. We could get out of her way quicker than she could out of ours.”
“That’s true; but she might pick us up.”