A damp breath breathed upon it, a soft hand passed over the slate, the sharp pencilling of the picture faded and became a confused gray cloud.
The wind and waves, too, went down in the fog; the now invisible and hushed breakers occasionally sent the surf over the sand in a quick whisper, with grave intervals of silence, but with no continuous murmur as before.

In a curving bight of the shore the creaking of oars in their rowlocks began to be distinctly heard, but the boat itself, although apparently only its length from the sands, was invisible.
"Steady, now; way enough." The voice came from the sea, and was low, as if unconsciously affected by the fog.

"Silence!" The sound of a keel grating the sand was followed by the order, "Stern all!" from the invisible speaker.
"Shall we beach her ?" asked another vague voice.
"Not yet.

Hail again, and all together." "Ah hoy--oi--oi--oy!" There were four voices, but the hail appeared weak and ineffectual, like a cry in a dream, and seemed hardly to reach beyond the surf before it was suffocated in the creeping cloud.

A silence followed, but no response.
"It's no use to beach her and go ashore until we find the boat," said the first voice, gravely; "and we'll do that if the current has brought her here.