FOG !

Otago Witness, Issue 2817, 11 March 1908, Page 87

FOG !

By Will Lvwsox. j

Th- 3!! the fog came down, but the heavy nii'es Still spun from the whirling screw. A bearing squealed, a greaser swore. A feed-pump sobbed and growled; Somebody laughed near the purser's door; A dog in the lamp room howled. All night long the fog has been creeping lower and lower, hemming the steamer closer and closer in. The dull sen slides past; the smother of water at her bows and along her sides makes a dead sound devoid of ring and resonance. And her whi6tle'e hoarse " Bla-a-a-are" sends no sound-waives rocking and pe-aling skyward and around her. The fog smothers everything. At eight bells (midnight), when the watches change, the lookout is doubled, and every man of the starboard watch is alert and vigilant. The course for some hours will be well off-shore, yet there may be approaching vessels. The second officer paces the bridge, and at frequent intervals pulls the whistle-cord. After each roar of sound he li6tens for an answering blow, and looks for the loom of a hull tlnough the fog. And presently there comes from out the heavy mist a pale, weak sound, as of a far-away organ note. The lookout has heard it too. " Steamer whistling, sir; sounds to starboard." He hails. Again the loud roar, and again the faint reply. The officer throws the telegraph handle to '" Half-ahead." The bells below have not ceased peajing before the rods and tossing throws have dropped to half their speed. They are all "ke3-ed-up" in the engine-room. Now that sh& is moving at half-speed it is difficult to realise that a 3000-ton 6teamer can slip through the water so quietly. The sound of the telegraph ha 6 brought the captain hurrying back to the bridge to watch and listen. There is nothing else that can be done. The wailing horn comes nearer, sounds close in on the 6tarboaid bide and pat6e» gradually astern. The fog grov.'E denser every hour till the ship's bows cannot be seen. "Keep her at " halt,"'"' the captain orders. Everything is dripping ■« ith fog. It seems to till the and crush the life from the skip. The steevkinan stands in wet oilskins, as still as a c.trven image. But his eyes are fixed on the lubber-line, and his stiong «*£*<•• are strung for instant action. " Lap-lap-lap," the wMer sobs at lier plates. " Thump-thump," the slow engine? cautiously revolve. '" Two belle " chime on deck and below. Scarcely has the clangour been silenced by the fog when from right ahead an ear-splitting shriek tears through the heavy folds of the mist. The lookout 6houts: "Boat light ahead, sir.'' "Hard over." The order is crisp and hot and urgent, but there is no hurry in its tones. Clanging loud ring the bells in the engine-room. The hands of the steersman eeem scarcely to move, yet the wheel is spinning, spinning, opening wide the- steam ports of the steering engine. She veei-6 to the right, and her reversing propeller sends a shudder through her tense hull. Minutes of suspense follow. She is turning and slowing, when suddenly the spars and lights of a small schooner leap out of the mibt, but well to the left, and the lookout crimes. " She's clear, sir." The steamer picks up her slow step again and falls back into her course, while the schooner fades, ghostlike, into the fog, her hand-worked tyren shrieking weirdly. The captain relieves his feelings in. a gentle comment: " They never blew till they heard our bell. I bet we scared them." » v 7 The gradual greying of the fog-bani gives token, of the coming of the day.

Still the Avlu6tle moans and roars, tha lookout peers, four-eyed, and the engines move at half -speed. But the day is near at hand. It will bring relief from the strain of the darkness. Soon, it is quite light, giving a clear view for about twenty yards around. Hour after hour the muchdelayed steamer slides along at less than a 10-k'not speed. Some of the passengers have arisen and stand grouped about the decks awaiting the booming of the breakfast gong. One or two approach the ship's officers with the intention of entering into conversation with them. But it is not a good time to talk to the deck staff. The advent of the day has not cleared the mist away as it frequently does. Breakfast is over. The passengers settle into nooks or pace the decks, anxious as to their late arrival in port. Though there is no direct statement attributable to am one in particular, it it rumoured that the captain is listening tor the fog signal at the Heads. There is no sound of the signal. Bells ring. The engines stop. The fog is becoming denser than ever, while the absence of the fog-signal's explosive warning seems to indicate that the Heads have been overrun during the fog. After a long wait the engines start again, the ship describing almost a complete circle, and retracing her 6low steps. For half an hour she creeps along. There is an anxious look in the officers' eyes. A shrill whistle blow 3 on the bridge, and presently a leadsman takes his place in the " chains," and tosses his swinging lead far ahead of the ship. By the time it reaches the bottom the steamer is level with it, and the leadsman cries out the depth of water. There ia plenty of water. Again and again he heaves the lead. No one speaks. There is only the dull, slow ripple marking th« ship's progress, the rolling rhythm of the engines, and the leadsman's chanting cry, with ever and anon the blare of the Dig whistle on the round red funnel. A small piece of kelp floats slowly past, and the sharp eyes of a steward see it immediately. He steps quickly across to the chief officer, who is standing near the leadsman. The officer, after a glance and without a word, shins up the bridge ladders and reports the matter to the captain.-' Then the engines are stopped, then reversed ; the ship lies motionless. The presence of kelp is usually an indication of rocks near by, except after a heavy; storm, and it is a warning seldom disregarded by careful skippers who are out of their reckoning. All eyes are peering, trying to pierce the fog. To eyes so strained and anxious the loom of the land seems to show, so willingly does the imagination supply what the senses most desire. But sucn . fancies soon vanish on close scTutinv. At last the captain sees it — land, shadowy hills, looming as a, dark smudge on the fog. * ' r . "Full speed astern. '* r " Backward he goes — a blind, bewildered ship ; and as she churns the lace-like foam and sends it swirling along hef flanks a breeze lifts the fog. There, noti half a mile away, is the iron-bound coast/ with its white cordon of breakers. Like . the fading of an unpleasant dream, the fog is gone ; the glorious sunlight streams on the bright green water. Gladly, gaily, the eager steamer turns to her proper course, now so palpably clear and easy; and as she sweeps so swiftly on her way she seems to kick herself for getting lost ■ in the fog.