Now, if only that measly fog lifts and we get a trifle nearer, we'll do something for the old flag." The minutes passed slowly.

It was heartbreaking work, this waiting and watching, and there was not one of the "Yankee's" crew but would have given a year's pay to have seen the mist lift long enough to bring us within range.
Suddenly, just as the fervent wish was trembling on our lips, "Hod Marsh," who was near the port, cried out joyfully: "She's fading, fellows, she's fading!" Like a theatre curtain being slowly raised, the mist lifted from the surface of the water.

Little by little the expanse of ocean became visible, and at last we, who were watching eagerly, saw the hull of a steamer appear, followed by masts and stack and upper rigging.

An exclamation of bitter disappointment came from Tommy.

"Durned if it ain't an old tramp!" he groaned.