A heavy fog was rolling in from the sea, but it seemed to cling to the ground and not to be able to rise very high. The trees and bushes stood knee deep in the thick white mist, with the moonlight still turning the topmost branches to silver. He felt sure that some hours must have gone by, that it must be after midnight, perhaps nearly morning. A light touch on his arm told him that Sally was awake and had come to stand beside him.
“I am so stiff,” he whispered softly, “that I will have to go out and walk up and down a little or I will never be able to move again.”
Sally nodded.
“It will do you good,” she answered, also in a whisper, “and the Captain is quiet now.”
Billy glanced toward the old sailor and somehow felt more alarmed about him than ever before. He was silent, but not asleep; his eyes were half-closed and he seemed quite unconscious of their presence. His breathing had grown weak and uneven. Sally went over to him; if she felt the same anxiety that Billy did, she managed not to show it.
“Go on,” she ordered, under her breath; “it will be good for you.”
He wondered if perhaps the tide were not
