We're bound
to drive into it before five minutes more--the first real mist blanket to
strike us all the way across."
Jack's prediction proved no idle one, for in less than the time specified
they found themselves suddenly enveloped by a dense mantle of mist
through which it would have been utterly impossible to have seen anything
a hundred feet away.
Tom for one did not like the coming of that fog just when they were about
to drew near the land of their hopes. Unlike a vessel, they could not
come to anchor and ride it out, waiting for the fog to lift; but must
drive on, and desperately strive to find some sort of landing.
"The thickest fog I ever saw!" Jack observed, after they had been passing
through the moist gray blanket of mist for some little time.
"Just the usual kind you'll meet with on the sea at times," answered the
lieutenant. "I was caught in one when out on the fishing banks, and it
wasn't any too pleasant a feeling it gave me either. But for our compass
we'd never have reached shore again."
"And but for the compass right now," said Tom, "it would be next to
impossible to steer a straight course."
"One good thing," Jack told them; "very little danger of a collision,
such as vessels are likely to encounter in so dense a fog."
"No, the air passage across the Atlantic hasn't become so popular yet
that we have to keep blowing a fog horn while sailing," laughed Colin.
All of them were feeling considerably brighter, now that their wonderful
venture seemed to be drawing close to a successful termination.
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