"Phil, beat it out to the bow and keep your ears open, will you?
Watch that deck, though; it's slippery." An anxious silence held for several minutes.

Then Phil's voice came from the fog-hidden bow: "Surf dead ahead, Steve!" he called.
"Can you see anything ?" shouted Steve as he again disengaged.
"No, but I can hear the waves breaking." They all could now that the propeller had stopped churning.

Steve gazed dazedly from fog to compass and from compass to chart, and finally shook his head helplessly.
"It's too much for me, fellows," he said.

"I'm going back as straight as I know how, or--" He stopped.

"Hang it, there can't be land on _all_ sides!" He pulled the bow still further to port and again started.