"Pilgrim" with a thick mist.

For entire hours the man at the lookout saw nothing, and the ship
sailed at random.

Even though the ship, although resting firmly on the waves, was
horribly shaken, Mrs. Weldon, fortunately, supported this rolling and
pitching without being incommoded. But her little boy was very much
tried, and she was obliged to give him all her care.

As to Cousin Benedict, he was no more sick than the American
cockroaches which he made his society, and he passed his time in
studying, as if he were quietly settled in his study in San Francisco.

Very fortunately, also, Tom and his companions found themselves little
sensitive to sea-sickness, and they could continue to come to the young
novice's aid--well accustomed, himself, to all those excessive
movements of a ship which flies before the weather.

The "Pilgrim" ran rapidly under this reduced sail, and already Dick
Sand foresaw that he would be obliged to reduce it again. But he wished
to hold out as long as it would be possible to do so without danger.
According to his reckoning, the coast ought to be no longer distant. So
they watched with care. All the time the novice could hardly trust his
companions' eyes to discover the first indications of land. In fact, no
matter what good sight he may have, he who is not accustomed to
interrogating the sea horizons is not skilful in distinguishing the
first contours of a coast, above all in the middle of fogs. So Dick
Sand must watch himself, and he often climbed as far as the spars to
see better. But no sign yet of the American coast.