CHAPTER XVII
A MISHAP IN THE FOG
"We have struck another vessel!"
"We are sinking!"
"How far are we from land?"
These and other cries rang out through the heavy fog, as the two crashes came, followed, a few seconds later, by a third.
Captain Barforth had left the steam yacht in charge of the first mate and was on the companionway going below. With two bounds he was on deck and running toward the bow at top speed.
"What was it? Have we a hole in the bow?" he questioned, of the frightened lookouts, who had been sent spinning across the slippery deck.
"Couldn't make out, captain—it was something black," said one lookout. "Black and square-like."
"I think it was a bit of old wreckage," said the other. "Anyway, it wasn't another vessel, and it was too dark for a lumber raft."
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