The Captain went below and turned in, "all standing." All through the dreary night his sleep was broken by the hoarse blasts of the fog-siren and the half-hourly cries of the lookouts. He wondered whether the current of the Gulf Stream was setting true, or had perhaps been deflected by some now dead wind of which he could not possibly know anything. He had a sailor's dread of an unknown current. If he had been on soundings the trusty lead would have told him where he was, but no machine could plumb the depths now under the _Golden Fleece_'s keel. At six o'clock the Captain went on the bridge again. The fog had disappeared, but the sky was still overcast. "Hum!" he muttered; "it's enough to make a man give up the sea and go to farming." Toward half past nine there were signs that the clouds were about to break, and the officers on the bridge made ready to "shoot the sun," as taking an observation is called, at the first opportunity. Presently there was a rift of blue sky, and in a few minutes the gorgeous sun broke through. The officers made their observation, but as they were still uncertain of their latitude, they could do nothing with it. At noon they were able to ascertain the latitude, and then they figured out the ship's position. "How does our dead reckoning compare with our position by observation?" asked Captain Jason Argo. "By dead reckoning we have made a run of 456 miles in the twenty-four hours," answered the first officer, "and our noon position was latitude 43° 34' north, longitude 54° west. By observation our position is latitude 43° 30' north, longitude 53° 54' west." "Excellent," exclaimed the Captain; "that's close work, and shows that my current allowance was about as near right as possible. Now I wish to hit the easterly edge of George's Bank, which is in longitude 66° west, in latitude 41° 20' north. When we make that point, I'll show you my reason for doing that." The Captain now gave out the course as south 76° west, true, and the distance to the point indicated as 540 miles. The course had to be corrected for variation and deviation of the compass before it could be given to the man at the wheel, and the greatest care was exercised in making the calculations. "If we keep going at nineteen knots," said the Captain, "we'll strike that eastern edge in twenty-eight hours and three-quarters, or at a quarter of five to-morrow afternoon. Whether the weather is clear or thick, at that hour I want a sounding. We ought to get about fifty-five fathoms." [Illustration: IT BEGAN TO BLOW BRISKLY FROM THE NORTHEAST.] The _Golden Fleece_ continued her westerly flight, but the weather did not remain clear. Before noon the following day it had clouded over, and had begun to blow briskly from the northeast. "Now," said the Captain to himself, "I shall have that much discussed southerly and westerly current to look out for."