“There is a strong wind blowing,” continued the nautical passenger, “and the fog is liable to lift for a few minutes at a time. If it lifts often enough our captain is going to get us over the bar. It will be rather a sharp bit of work if he succeeds. You notice that the _Dartonia_ has thrown out her anchor. She is evidently going to wait where she is until the fog clears away entirely.” So with that we two went forward to see what was being done. The captain stood on the bridge and beside him the pilot, but the fog was now so thick we could hardly see them, although we stood close by, on the piece of deck in front of the wheelhouse. The almost incessant clanging of the bell was kept up, and in the pauses we heard answering bells from different points in the thick fog. Then, for a second time, and with equal suddenness, the fog lifted ahead of us. Behind we could not see either the _Dartonia_ or the German steamer. Our own boat, however, went full speed ahead and kept up the pace till the fog shut down again. The captain now, in pacing the bridge, had his chronometer in his hand, and those of us who were at the front frequently looked at our watches, for of course the nautical passenger knew just how late it was possible for us to cross the bar. “I am afraid,” said the passenger, “he is not going to succeed.” But, as he said this, the fog lifted for the third time, and again the mammoth steamer forged ahead. “If this clearance will only last for ten minutes,” said the nautical passenger, “we are all right.” But the fog, as if it had heard him, closed down on us again damper and thicker than ever. “We are just at the bar,” said the nautical passenger, “and if this doesn’t clear up pretty soon the vessel will have to go back.” The captain kept his eyes fixed on the chronometer in his hand. The pilot tried to peer ahead, but everything was a thick white blank. “Ten minutes more and it is too late,” said the nautical passenger. There was a sudden rift in the fog that gave a moment’s hope, but it closed down again. A minute afterwards, with a suddenness that was strange, the whole blue ocean lay before us. Then full steam ahead. The fog still was thick behind us in New York Bay. We saw it far ahead coming in from the ocean. All at once the captain closed his chronometer with a snap. We were over the bar and into the Atlantic, and that is how the captain got the _Arrowic_ out of New York Bay. My Stowaway “Ye can play yer jokes on Nature, An’ play ’em slick, She’ll grin a grin, but, landsakes, friend, Look out fer the kick!”