"Wee, Mong Sewers! Zee Chef departs!" announced Arnold disappearing down
the stairs leading to the cabin from whence in a short time the aroma of
delicious coffee was wafted up to the three boys in the pilot house,
each striving to peer farther into the fog which seemed to be getting
thicker each passing moment.

"Seems to me I hear the booming of the surf on a jagged and rock bound
coast," remarked Harry after an interval of silence following the wail
of the Klaxon fog signal being sounded at regular intervals.

"Harry, you ought to be serious once in a while!" admonished Jack.
"There are no rocks down in this part of the world. Everything is sand
and lots of it. Besides the real coast is over here to our starboard
hand side. You can't hear any surf there!"

"Maybe so, but I can hear what I believe to be the pounding of waves on
a shore, just the same!" stoutly insisted Harry.

"Listen a minute," exclaimed Tom raising a hand for silence.

"There!" cried Harry after an interval. "There it is again!"

"Jack," Tom asked turning to his chum, "can you get it?"

With his face a trifle paler than was his wont, Jack nodded his head and
with his lips closed tightly peered into the fog.

"Great Wigglin' Pollywogs!" ejaculated Tom. "If we're into a surf the
Fortuna had better give up now! We can't ever expect to get out of that