the last two or three minutes the appearance of the
fog had changed. It was dense still, but yellower in colour and even
faintly luminous.

From the bridge came no answer.

"Liftin', that's what it is, an' I ask the Lord's pardon for lettin'
myself be disturbed by ye."

The skipper turned to leave the ladder, of which he had climbed but half
a dozen steps.

"Liftin' it may be "--Lloyd's voice arrested him--"but we're ashore
somewheres, or close upon it. I can 'ear breakers--"

"Eh?"

"Listen!"

The skipper listened, all listened, the fog the while growing steadily
more golden and luminous.

"Man, that's no sound of breakers--it's voices!"

"Voices!"

"Voices--voices of singin'. Ah!"--the skipper caught suddenly at the
rail again--"a revelation! Hark!"

He was right. Far and faint ahead of the steamer's bows, where the fog,
meeting the sun's rays, slowly arched itself into a splendid halo--
a solid wall no longer, but a doorway for the light, and hung with
curtains that momentarily wore thinner--there, where the water began to
take a tinge of flame, sounded the voices of men and women, or of
angels, singing together. And while the crew of the _Evan Evans_
strained their ears the hymn grew audible--

'Nearer--and nearer still,
We to our country come;
To that celestial Hill,
The weary pilgrim's home! . . .'

Arthur Miles had clutched Tilda's hand. She herself gazed and listened,
awe-struck. The sound of oars mingled now with the voices, and out of
the glory ahead three forms emerged and took shape--three boats moving
in solemn procession.

They were of unusual length, and black--at any rate, seen against that
golden haze, they appeared black as Erebus. In the bows of each sat a
company of people singing as they pulled at the long oars; and in the
stern of each, divided from the rowers by the cargo--but what that cargo
was could not yet be distinguished--stood a solitary steersman.

Patently these people were unaware of the steamer's approach. They were
heading straight across her path--were, in fact, dangerously close--when
at length the seaman on the bridge recovered presence of mind to sound
her whistle, at the same time ringing down to stop the engines.

As the whistle sounded the singing ceased abruptly, the steersmen thrust
over their tillers in a flurry, and of the rowers some were still
backing water as the boats drifted close, escaping collision by a few
yard