The fog had lessened, but it was growing dark. A ship's bell struck the hour, and the sound was taken up by a hundred others in a chorus of clanging and ding-donging out in the mist. George walked up the beach. The water's edge was littered with débris from the fleet--baskets and empty boxes, crates, and drift-wood of all sorts. Something caught his eye, and he stooped and picked up a stout-handled boat-hook. "Some poor fellow got the rope's end for losing this," he said. "It may come in handy for me." He shouldered it and walked quickly away. A few rods further on he came across a narrow pier or causeway that ran from the bank above the beach to a boat-landing some distance out. There was just room for a man to crawl underneath. George stooped on his hands and knees and worked his way in as far as he could with comfort. Then he half buried himself in the dry sand. Tired with his two long swims and with the excitement of the last few hours, he went to sleep. But it was not for long. Suddenly he awoke--a great fear was on him. Why had he not thought of it before? _Had Carter reached the shore?_ George had heard no sound from him after he had turned to speak of leaving the paper in the boat. CHAPTER VIII. THE BREAKING STORM. The reason that Carter did not hail, as tacitly agreed upon, is simply told. He could not have raised his voice if the fate of the country depended on his doing it, for he never remembered reaching land at all. When George had left him, Carter had kept straight ahead, but made the great mistake of trying to fight against the swiftly running tide. It buffeted him hither and thither, until he became utterly exhausted, and could just keep himself afloat and no more by weakly treading water. The direction of the shore he lost completely for some minutes, when all at once he heard the rippling sound again. Desperately he struck out, and then, oh joy! he heard the sound of voices. Carter tried to shout, but a sturdy wave catching him fair in the face muffled the cry and almost foundered him. He remembered taking two or three strokes after that; then all went black. "I'm certain I heard a cry out here," said a voice in the fog. High-pitched and distinct, the tones were very different from those that answered. "You have ears like a rabbit's, then," growled a deep bass. "For I heard nothing. Come, as I was saying--" "Pardon me. Just hearken for a minute. It may sound again," interrupted the first speaker. Two figures leaned out over the Battery wall.