"......Regret to report collision in latitude x and longitude y between tank steamships _Tampico_ and _Peruvian_......"--_Extract from an Admiralty paper_. When supper was over, the two sailors of the Armed Guard attached to the ship went out on deck for a breath of evening air. It was just after sundown, a clean calm rested upon the monstrous plain of the sea; one golden star shone tranquil and lonely in the west. The convoy was almost at the border of the zone. To the left the lads could see the twin funnels of the big grain ship; the tattered, befouled horse boat, the little, rolling tramp said to be full of T.N.T., and the long low bulks and squat houses of the two tanks. "Whoever's on that tramp is some bird at signals," said the bigger of the boys, my friend "Pop." "Generally starts to answer my signal before I'm through. Know who's aboard her, Robbie?" "I think it's that big new guy from the Pennsylvania" answered Robbie, meditatively. "Dalton's on the horse boat, isn't he?" "Sure, either he or Ricci. Pete Johnson's on the first tank, and that fresh little Rogers guy's on the other." There was a pause. Pop spat with unction over the side. Suddenly their vessel entered a fog bank, passing through a detached island or two of it before plunging on into the central mass. The convoy instantly faded from sight. Every now and then, out of the wall of grey ahead, a little swirl of fog detached itself, and floating down the darkening deck, melted into the opaque obscurity behind. Drops of moisture began to gather on the lower surface of the brass rails of the companion ways; wires grew slippery to the touch; little worm-like trails of over-laden drops slid mechanically down sloping surfaces. The fog, thickening, flowed alongside like a vaporous current. Overhead, however, the sky was fairly clear, though the greater stars shone aureoled and pale. There was very little sound, merely the steady hissing of the calm water alongside, occasional voices heard in a tone of consultation,--the heavy slam of a door. An hour passed. The fog showed no sign of lifting, seeming rather to become of denser substance with the dark. Pop was glad that there was no ship following directly behind, and wondered if the others were dragging fog buoys. The ship's bell rang muffled and morne in the fog. Suddenly, out of the clinging darkness, out of the oppressive obscurity, there came, momentary, brazen, and incredibly distant a dull and muffled sound. So far away and mysterious was its source that the sound might have been imagined as coming from the dark beyond the stars. An instant later, as if the only purpose of its mysterious existence had been to sink a tanker, the fog melted into the night, and a little wind, a little, timid, trembling breath brushed the great plume of smoke from the funnel lightly aside. A bright starlit night came into being as if by enchantment, as if created out of the fog by the intervention of divine will.