"The ship was stopped, all sounds ceased, and the very fog became
motionless, growing denser and as if solid in its amazing dumb
immobility. The men at their stations lost sight of each other.
Footsteps sounded stealthy; rare voices, impersonal and remote, died out
without resonance. A blind white stillness took possession of the world.

"It looked, too, as if it would last for days. I don't mean to say that
the fog did not vary a little in its density. Now and then it would
thin out mysteriously, revealing to the men a more or less ghostly
presentment of their ship. Several times the shadow of the coast itself
swam darkly before their eyes through the fluctuating opaque brightness
of the great white cloud clinging to the water.

"Taking advantage of these moments, the ship had been moved cautiously
nearer the shore. It was useless to remain out in such thick weather.
Her officers knew every nook and cranny of the coast along their beat.
They thought that she would be much better in a certain cove. It wasn't
a large place, just ample room for a ship to swing at her anchor. She
would have an easier time of it till the fog lifted up.

"Slowly, with infinite caution and patience, they crept closer and
closer, seeing no more of the cliffs than an evanescent dark loom with a
narrow border of angry foam at its foot. At the moment of anchoring
the fog was so thick that for all they could see they might have been a
thousand miles out in the open sea. Yet the shelter of the land could
be felt. There was a peculiar quality in the stillness of the air. Very
faint, very elusive, the wash of the ripple against the encircling land
reached their ears, with mysterious sudden pauses.