Dave's next order was to send a wireless message, warning all mine-sweepers and other craft that an enemy submarine had been discovered in that location. Though no word had been passed for Lieutenant Fernald, that executive officer, awakened by the bump and the abrupt change in the destroyer's course, hurried to the bridge. "Did you get a good rest, Fernald?" Dave queried, half an hour later. "Fine, sir." "Then I am going to the chart-room to rest for a while. I got chilled dozing in that chair. Set the bell going in the chart-room if I'm wanted." Then Dave slept on, without call, for a few hours, well knowing that Lieutenant Fernald could well fill his place. The first signs of dawn awakened Darrin. He sprang up, reaching for the bridge telephone. "All secure, sir," reported Fernald, from the bridge. Dave therefore delayed long enough to make his toilet--a none too frequent luxury aboard a destroyer in the danger zone. Then, fully refreshed and ruddy, Darrin drew on his tunic and over that his sheepskin coat. Placing his uniform cap on his head he stepped out on deck before the sun had begun to rise up above the sea. In the distance, in three different directions, as many British mine-sweepers could be seen patiently combing the seas for mines. "What number recovered?" Dave signalled. "Three," replied one craft. "Five," said another. "One," came from the third sweeper. "Nine in all," Dave remarked to Fernald. "We're in a mine field, then. We shall need to be vigilant." The sun soon rose, strong and brilliant, only to pass behind a bank of clouds and leave the air damp and chilly. An hour later a fog settled over the English Channel, soon becoming so dense that one could not see beyond about three hundred yards. Dave went below to a hurried breakfast. Returning, he sent Lieutenant Fernald to his meal and rest. "I'll remain on the bridge all day, unless this fog lifts," Darrin decided. He increased the number of lookouts and ordered slow speed, so that the long, narrow destroyer, capable of racing rapidly over the waves, now merely crept along. When the watch was changed Dave barely returned the salutes of the departing and oncoming watch officers, for his whole attention was centered on the sea. Half an hour after that he started slightly, then stared hard. Off the starboard bow he thought he made out something moving as slowly as the "Grigsby" herself was proceeding. "Pick that up, Mr. Ormsby, and see if it's anything more than a dream," ordered Dave, pointing. Instantly the course of the destroyer was changed several points to starboard and speed increased a trifle. Through the haze there soon developed the outlines of a steam craft, set low in the water, and of not more than two thousand tons. She was not a handsome craft, but, on the contrary, appeared ghostlike as she stood only half-revealed through the fog.