I had no time to find a friend to keep me company; but that did not
worry me, as I felt fully able to enjoy myself in solitary peace.

I found everything prepared for my arrival, having wired to the
longshoreman and his wife, in whose charge I had left the yacht, and I
should much like to describe in full detail all my enjoyment, but must
pass over the little events of my first day--the Saturday--as they have
nothing to do with my "adventure," though to me the day was brimful of
thorough happiness.

It was one of those splendid bright days which are happily so frequent
on the East coast in September--so calm, indeed, that sailing was out of
the question, and I spent my time in the small boat or dinghy out in the
open sea a mile or more, fishing in an indolent way for whiting, etc.,
and basking in the sun.

I saw no one all day, and there was little shipping about. A private
wherry anchored opposite the village above the _Thelma_ was the only
craft in the river, and a few trawlers and coasting steamers far out
were the only vessels to be seen at sea.

Nothing could have less suggested the likelihood of anything in the
shape of "adventure," and I caught my whiting and dabs in blissful peace
of mind.

About four o'clock in the afternoon, however, I was roused from my
fishing by feeling the air suddenly begin to get chill, and on looking
out to sea saw that a breeze was springing up from the eastward, and
bringing with it a bank of thick white sea-fog, which had already
blotted out the horizon, and was coming in rapidly.

This meant rowing home as quickly as possible, as I did not want to be
caught in the "thick" before reaching my temporary home, as it might
mean an hour or two's search for such a small yacht in a half-mile wide
estuary.

So, hastily laying aside my fishing-tackle and hauling up the little
anchor, I put my back into the task of "racing the fog," feeling
intensely thankful that the tide was on the flood, and, therefore, an
immense help to me.

Even as it was, I was in a glowing heat by the time I reached the
_Thelma_, and only just in time at that, as the first chilly wreaths of
mist were closing round me by the time I got on board. When all was
"snug," and I was ready to go below into my little cabin for tea, a last
glance round showed me that already the low hills on each side of the
river were blotted out, and I could hardly distinguish the wherry
anchored away up above me, or the houses of th