FOG.

Otago Daily Times, Issue 14156, 7 March 1908, Page 4

FOG.

By Will L.wso.n*.

Then the, tog catno down, but the heavy rui'cs Still spun from the whirling acre*.

4 bearing squealed, a greaser swore, A feed-pump nobbed and growled; Somebody laughed near the purser's door; A dog in the lamp room howkd.

_ -All night, long the fog has been creeping lower ur,d lower, hemming the steamer closer and closer in. The dull sea slides past; the smother of water at her bows a.nd along her sides makes a dead sound devoid 01 ring and resonance. And her whistle's hoarse " Bla-a-a-are" sends no sound-waves rocking and pealing sky■frard and around her. The fog smothers everything.. , ' ■ .

At eight bells (midnight), when the ■watches change, the lookout is doubled, ajid every man of tile starboard watch is alert and vigilant. The course for somo 1 hours will bo well off-shove, yet there may bo approaching vessels. The 6eoond officer paces the bridge, and at frequent intervals pulls tho whistle-cord. After each roar of p.ound he listens for ait answering blow, and looks for- the loom of a hull through the fog. And presently there comes from out the heavy mist a pale, weak sound, as of a far-away organ note. The lookout hat) heard it too.

"Steamer whistling, sir; sounds to starboard."

lie hails. Again the loud roar, and again the faint reply. Tho ollioer throws the telegraph handle to "Half-ahead." The belli below have not ceased pealing before the rods and tossing throws have dropped to half their speed. They are all "kcyed-up" in the engine-room. Now that she is moving at hali-speed it ds dilHcult to realise that a 0000-ton steamer can slip through the water so quietly. The sound of the telegraph has brotignt tho captain hurrying back to the bridge 'to watch and listen. .There is nothing else that can be done. The wailing horji comes nearer, sounds close in on. tite starboard side and passes gradually .astern.

' The tog grows denser every hour till the ship's bows cannot be seen.

"Keep her at 'half,'" the captain orders.

Jtverytiiing is dripping with fog. It seems to till the,worm and crush tne life from the ship. The steersman stands in wet oilskins, as still as a carven image. But his eyes are fixed on the lubber-line, and his strong nerves are strung ■ for instant action.

" Lap-lap-hip," the water sobs at her plates.

"Thump-thump," (he slow engines cautiously revolve. "Two bells" chime on deck and below. Scarce!)' lias 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 shouts: "Boat right ahead, sir." .

. "Hard over." Tlie order is crisp and hot and urgent, but there is no hurry in its tones. Clanging loud Ting the bells in the engino-room. The hands of the, steersman seem scarcely to move, yet the wJieel is spinning, spinning,'opening wide the steam ports of the steering engine. She veers to the. right, and her reversing propeller sends a shudder through her tense hull. Jlinules of suspense lollow. She is turning and slowing, when suddenly the spaxs and lights of a small schooner leap out of the mist, but well to the left, and the lookout cries, "She's clear, sir." The steamer picks up h«r slow step again and falls back into her course, while tho schooner fades, ghostlike, into the fog, her hand-worked syren shrieking weirdly. Tk captain relieves his • feelings in a gentle comment: " They never blow till they heard our bell. I bet we scared them."

,The gradual greying of tho fog-bank gives .token of the coming of the day. still the whistle moans and roars, the lookout peers, iour-eyed, and the engines .■'move at half-speed. But the day is near lat hand. It will bring relief from the strain of the darkness. Soon, it is quite ljght, giving a clear view for about twenty yards around. Hour after hour the muclidelaycd -steamer slides along at less than a •10-knot 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 6hip'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 must 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 anyone in particular, it is rumoured that the captain is listening for the fog signal at tne Heads. There is no sound of the signal. Bells ring. The engines stop. The 'fog is becoming denser than ever, while tho ibaence of the fog-signal's explosive warning seems to indicate that the Heads have Deen overrun during the fog. Alter a long wait the engines start again, the ship describing almost a complete circle, and retracing her slow steps. For half an hour she creeps along. There is au anxious look in tho oriicers' eyes. A shrill whistle blows on the'bridge, and presently a leadsman takes his place in the " chain's," 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 le'adsman cries out the depth of water. There is plenty of water. Again and again he heaves the lead. No one speaks. There is only the dull, slow- ripple marking the sliip's progress, the rolling rhythm of the engines, and the leadsman's chanting cry, with ever and anon tlie blare of tho big whistle on tho round red funnel. A\ small piece of kelp iloats slowly past, and the slnlrp eyes of a steward see it immediately. Ho 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 ladder 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 ]>eering, 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 such fancies soon vanish on close scrutiny. At last the captain sees it—land, shadowy hills, looming as a dark smudge on tlie fog. "Full speed astern." Backward lie goes—a blind, bewildered Ghip; and as 6he churns the lace-liko foam and sends it swirling along her flanks a breeze lifts the fog. There not half a mile away, is the iron-bound coi6t 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 6h© seems to kick herself for getting lost in the fog. "