Guess he don't hear us yet.
Wind's in wrong direction." The fresh breeze was blowing right down upon us, and I could hear the whistle plainly, off to one side and a little ahead.
"Ferry-boat ?" I asked.
He nodded, then added, "Or he wouldn't be keepin' up such a clip." He gave a short chuckle.

"They're gettin' anxious up there." I glanced up.

The captain had thrust his head and shoulders out of the pilot-house, and was staring intently into the fog as though by sheer force of will he could penetrate it.

His face was anxious, as was the face of my companion, who had stumped over to the rail and was gazing with a like intentness in the direction of the invisible danger.
Then everything happened, and with inconceivable rapidity.

The fog seemed to break away as though split by a wedge, and the bow of a steamboat emerged, trailing fog-wreaths on either side like seaweed on the snout of Leviathan.