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Updated: June 20, 2025
Lyddy won't be home till six if she's early, an' she'll prob'bly be in bed by nine now they're rushin' the end of the picture, an' she's got to be on the lot made up by nine or sooner." "Nine in the morning!" "Well, sure! You soon get used to it. They've got to get all the daylight they can, an' times the fog's low earlier, or they'd likely start at seven or eight. You look a little beat, dearie.
"The fog's lifting!" exclaimed Ned suddenly. "Now we can start for home. I can just make out the coast." True enough, right ahead of them was a low, dark line. "Well, if that isn't queer," remarked Bob. "I would have said the shore was off there," and he pointed in the opposite direction. "I guess we must have turned around when we drifted," said Jerry. "We're quite a way from the buoy now."
But the time of this fog's dispersion shocked the mind as something pitiless and arbitrary. For had the air cleared an hour before, the Waking Dawn would not have struck. I opened the door, and it was as though a panel of brilliant white was of a sudden painted on the floor. Robert Lovyes sprang up from the settle, ran past me into the open, and stood on the bracken in his stockinged feet.
Jack's mate was below, but the helmsman had no fear, as all was clear. He mused on, always peering sharply round for a few minutes when suddenly, over the haze which was rising, he saw a white light, and then the loom of a green. "All right; well clear," he muttered. "Glad the fog's no higher. Why doesn't he use his whistle?"
Then, for he was more keen than Margaret to note the fog's promise to lift, at the very moment when the shores began to appear and mark his course as favorable, at the very moment when the sun struck one end of the log, an eddy of the current struck the other, and sent the stanch little craft Good Luck and her captain by a wide curve back up the river.
"Anyhow, the fog's getting thinner all the while," remarked Will joyfully. "That's a fact," said Frank, glancing up from his work. A minute later there was a whirr. "Hurrah! She works!" shouted Jerry. "Thank goodness! Then we're saved!" echoed Will. "Get up your anchor, Bluff," remarked Frank quietly.
"They'll never hear that at Lone Hill life savin' station," grimly commented the captain, "and this fog's too thick fer them ter see her." "Do you imagine she is badly damaged, captain?" asked Rob anxiously. The idea of the stranded ship lost in the dense fog affected him strangely. "Can't tell," the captain replied to his question, "may have stove a hole in herself and be sinking now."
Vaniman and Britt furnished an uncanny spectacle. The eyes which beheld them saw them only for an instant; the fog's curtain allowed each observer scant time to determine what these figures were. Britt, hairless, his face sickly white, his night gear fluttering, was as starkly bodeful as if he were newly risen from the grave, garbed in death's cerements.
There was something in the manner of the Princess, after receiving the salute, which impelled me, spite of myself, to ask who the lady was. "Madame de Genlis," exclaimed Her Highness, with a shudder of disgust, "that lamb's face with a wolf's heart, and a fog's cunning."
"The sun's rising behind that fog," said Dalton, "but here comes a little wind that will drive away the fog or thin it out so we can see." "Yes, I feel it," said Harry, "and you can see the dull, somber red of the sun trying to break through. Look, George, unless I'm mistaken the fog's moving down the river!"
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