that the Islander was not more than a mile ahead of
us, and another hour would wipe out all the difference.

"This wind is good for us in one way, and bad in another," said Captain
Cayo, shaking his head after a searching gaze to windward.

"You mean that we are likely to have some fog," I added.

"Not only likely to have a fog, but sure of it. It is miles deep to the
southward and westward."

"Of course the Islander will be able to keep out of the way in a fog;
and we can't help ourselves," I replied, trying to yield as gracefully
as possible to the necessity of giving up our point.

I had hardly uttered the words before the fog swept down upon us. It
was very dense, and we could not see a ship's length ahead of us; at
about the same time the wind suddenly subsided. We could see nothing of
the Islander, and I had no doubt she had already shifted her course to
the north or the south.

"The game is all up, Captain Cayo," I said, very mournfully.

"Up for the present," replied the pilot, as he called through the
speaking-tube for the engineer to stop the steamer.

Captain Cayo put his head out of one of the front windows of the
pilot-house, and listened attentively for several minutes. I understood
that he had used the speaking-tube instead of ringing the gong, so that
those on board of the Islander should not hear the sound, as they
might, it was now so still.

"Go ahead," continued the pilot through the tube. "She has headed to
the northward, and we will see what we can do on the same tack."

The pilot headed the Sylvania to the north. I hoped the wind would
breeze up again and carry off the fog; but there was no indication of
it. Our sails made so much noise, flapping and pounding against the
spars, that I was obliged to order all sail taken in. When we had gone
an hour on the present course, the pilot ordered the engineer to stop
her, as before. Washburn and Ben Bowman were on the top-gallant
forecastle, and they listened with all their might. We all did the
same, but we could not catch a sound of any kind. If the Islander had
been within a mile of us we could have heard the clang of her screw.
She had either stopped her engine, or gone off on some other course. We
went ahead again, headed to the north-west.

"We might keep this up all night, and not find her," said Captain Cayo,
disgusted with the situation.

"What had we better do?" I asked.

"We can't do anything. We can't fight against the fog. Are