Bobby was beginning to consider what a dreadful thing a wreck was, when Tom appeared.
"What's the matter ?" asked Bobby, with some appearance of alarm.
"Fog," replied Tom.

"It is so thick you can cut it with a hatchet." "Is that all ?" "That's enough.' "Where are we ?" "That is just what the pilot would like to know.

They can't see ahead a bit, and don't know where we are." Bobby went on deck.

The ocean rolled beneath them, but there was nothing but fog to be seen above and around them.

The lead was heaved every few moments, and the steamer crept slowly along till it was found the water shoaled rapidly, when the captain ordered the men to let go the anchor.
There they were; the fog was as obstinate as a mule, and would not "lift." Hour after hour they waited, for the captain was a prudent man, and would not risk the life of those on board to save a few hours' time.