CHAPTER XIV
THE FOG
With one accord Ned, Bob, and Jerry looked at one another, their facesclose together in the thick fog that was settling down over everythingin a white, damp pall.
“There isn’t any doubt of it now!” exclaimed Jerry.
“I should say not!” agreed Bob.
“That’s the voice of Professor Snodgrass,” declared Ned. “I’d know itamong a hundred, even if he didn’t use his characteristic talk aboutsome new kind of bug.”
“Mist-flies!” exclaimed Bob. “What are they?”
“Oh, some kind of insect that flies only in a fog--or at least that’swhat the professor thinks they are,” commented Jerry.
“Well, now that we’re sure--or almost positively so--that ProfessorSnodgrass is on board,” suggested Ned, “why not see him? Let’s call outand let him know we’re here--within a hundred feet of him, I shouldsay, though this fog is so thick that he may be several hundred feetoff. Voices carry very plainly over water and through heavy mist. I’mgoing to----”
“You’re going to keep still--at least for a while!” interrupted Jerry,putting his hand over Ned’s mouth in time to prevent that energetic ladfrom sending out a call to the unseen owner of the voice which soundedso like that of Professor Snodgrass.
“Just wait a bit,” Jerry went on, when Ned had recovered his composurecaused by the sudden stoppage of his vocal powers. “I admit that thevoice was that of our professor, but maybe it would spoil his plans tobe recognized just now or to meet with us.”
“How could it?” asked Bob.
“That’s what I don’t know,” Jerry was frank enough to admit. “But forsome reason the professor prefers to remain somewhat concealed. He musthave his own reason for that. Very good--it’s his privilege. Now let’swait until this thing clears up.”
“Do you mean the fog?” asked Ned.
“Partly that, yes. Great guns! isn’t it thick, though? You could almostslice it like cheese.”
“It’s dangerous, too,” said Ned.
“That’s so,” assented Jerry. “This fog adds another danger to thiseventful voyage. I never saw mist so thick.”
“What are we going to do?” Bob asked.
“There isn’t anything we can do,” Jerry declared. “All any one can dois to wait for it to lift. I suppose they have a means of sounding somesort of warning signal.”
“No, I didn’t mean so much what can we do about the fog, though that’sbad enough--seems to take away all my appetite,” complained Chunky. “Imeant what are we going to do about Professor Snodgrass? Now that weknow he’s on board oughtn’t we do something?”
“Yes,” admitted Jerry, “I believe we ought. But not just yet. Let’swait a while. We’ve got plenty of time. The professor can’t get awayany more than we can, and if we start looking for him now we may gethim into some sort of mixup. Let matters take their course for a while.”
“I don’t hear anything of him now,” said Ned, listening intently. “Heseems to be on the still hunt for his new fog-bugs.”
Though all about them, coming through the white mist, were murmurs ofvoices and the sound caused by the movement of many bodies, neither ofthe three lads had a glimpse of Professor Snodgrass. Nor did the echoof his peculiar voice come to them.
The fog seemed to be growing more dense every minute. There was no windto carry the mist away, and it hung about the disabled troopship likesome heavy, white veil. It was actually impossible to see more thanfifty feet, and then only dimly. To peer out over the side of the craftwas to gaze into a white sea, opaque and impenetrable. To look forwardor aft was to note the same thing. From amidships neither stern nor bowof the _Sherman_ could be seen, and men moving about the decks actuallycollided with one another.
“Why don’t they do something?” complained more than one fretful voice,and it was evident that many were under a great strain.
“What can they do?” asked Jerry, of one of these complaining soldiers.“The invention hasn’t been dreamed of that will dissipate a fog at sea.”
“Well, why don’t the sailors fire guns, blow horns, or something, so wewon’t be run down?” went on the other. “We’re floating around here likea log, and we may have a crash before very long.”
“I fancy they’ll start signaling soon,” said Ned.
“How are they going to when they can’t get up steam for the engines?”Bob asked.
“Oh, they’ve got donkey engines for hoisting out the cargo,” remarkedJerry. “Those boilers can make steam, and I guess it can be conveyed tothe whistles. That will warn other vessels of our nearness. And thisfog may be a good thing, too.”
“How do you figure that out?” a corporal wanted to know.
“Well, we’ll begin signaling, and we may be heard by some craft whichcan help us. It’s queer they didn’t blow the whistle when they foundthe wireless wasn’t working.”
“Yes, they might have done that,” assented Ned. “But I don’t agree withyou, Jerry, that the blowing of a whistle by our ship in this fog willhelp us any.”
“Why won’t it?”
“Because as soon as any other ship hears our signals she’s going tokeep as far away as she can to avoid a collision.”
“That’s so,” admitted the tall lad. “But I presume there’s some sort ofwhistle code so they can send out a distress call.”
“In that case we’ll be all right,” said Ned. “Well, all we can do is togrin and bear it. The fog seems to have come to stay.”
And this seemed true. Denser and more dense, the white vapor closedaround the slowly drifting _Sherman_. The air was cold and damp, and itpenetrated through the clothing.
“What causes the fog?” asked Ned of a sailor who rolled past the threefriends as they stood at a rail.
“Davy Jones, I guess,” was the answer. “Leastways he gets his fullshare of ships when a fog like this here one comes. Maybe this hereone was caused by icebergs.”
“Icebergs!” cried Jerry.
“Yes, this is the time of year they come down, sometimes. An iceberg iscold, you know, and when it gets in warm air it makes a fog. I’ve beenon ships more than once that bunked into ’em.”
“Do they do much damage?” asked Bob.
“Damage!” cried the sailor. “Say, did you ever see a little automobile,the lightest kind there is, going full speed, hit a solid wall of rock?”
“I can imagine what would happen,” admitted Ned.
“Well, that’s what happens when a ship strikes an iceberg,” returnedthe sailor. “Course we’re not speeding, but if we hit about fiftythousand tons of ice--Aye, aye, sir!” he answered in response to a callfrom one of the mates, and he moved off through the mist.
“Pleasant prospect,” mused Jerry.
“Let’s don’t think about it,” urged Bob. “Say, I wish we’d stayed inFrance a few months longer. This being picked to be among the first togo home isn’t as nice as it sounds.”
“Oh, we’ll come out of this all right,” asserted Jerry. “Now let’sconsider what’s best to be done in case there is another accident inthe fog. We ought to try to find out where Professor Snodgrass is.He’ll never think of trying to save himself if he has as much as onebug to occupy his mind. We’d better try to locate him.”
“I thought you said we wouldn’t force ourselves on him for fear ofspoiling his plans,” said Ned.
“We won’t exactly force ourselves on him,” was Jerry’s answer. “But wecan inquire from the purser where our friend is placed. That may be hisregular cabin where we saw him, or he may only have stepped in there.Once we know where he is we can go there and see that he gets out incase there’s a crash.”
“Yes, that’s a good idea,” agreed Ned and Bob.
They were on their way to the purser, who might be expected to know thenames of all on board who were not strictly members of the militaryforce, when they heard from above the deep, hoarse note of a whistle.
“Is that ours?” asked Ned quickly.
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br /> “Sounded so,” replied Jerry. “But it may be that another ship is near.Let’s go up and see.”
They hurried on deck to learn that it was their own fog signal whistlewhich had started sending out its hoarse warning. Steam had beengenerated in one of the donkey hoisting engine boilers, and, by meansof a hastily rigged pipe line, conveyed to the big whistle.
On this there now sounded warning blasts which would tell to othercraft in the vicinity the nearness of a ship. And, as the three chumslistened, they heard the blasts given in peculiar order--as thoughspelling out some code word.
“Is that saying anything?” asked Ned of a sailor who loomed up throughthe mist.
“Yes, that tells whoever hears it that we’re drifting, out of control,and need help.”
“Will help come?”
“Nobody knows,” was the answer. “I don’t believe any other ship wouldtake a chance on coming too close while the fog holds.”
And the fog still held. Like a white blanket it wrapped the transportin its folds, hiding from view everything except in a fifty-footcircle.