A thin mist began to creep up from the river, and it grew, and grew.

Till soon a dense fog enveloped the ship and all around her.

The captain swore polyglot, very polyglot, polyglot with bloom and blood, but he could do nothing.

The water rose and rose, and he began to fear that he would lose the tide altogether.

He was in no friendly mood, when just at full tide, the thin man came up the gangplank again and asked to see where his box had been stowed.