The heavy whistle of the steamer could be heard for a long distance; but the bell and fog-horn of the other vessels could not be distinguished by the lookout of the Ville d’Angers. Then the wind hauled to the westward, heading off the sailing-vessels. O’Hara was watching the weather and the vessels very closely all the time; and, though the direction of the wind did not greatly affect the steamer, he saw that the Josephine and Tritonia could no longer lay their course. He continued the steamer on the course given out for two hours, without seeing or hearing any thing of his consorts. The captain began to be a little worried; for he would as soon have thought of drowning himself as of disobeying the orders of the senior vice-principal, and going off on an independent cruise. It was evident enough to him, that the schooners had tacked, or had been crowded off their course by the changing wind; he could not tell whether they had gone to the westward or southward. He wished Mr. Fluxion had told him what he should do under such circumstances as the present, which might have been easily foreseen. “Upon my sowl, I am afraid we shall part company with the rest of the fleet,” said the captain to Tom Speers, who was on the deck. “It seems to me we have done it already,” replied the second officer. “That’s a fact! Now the wind has changed, and it bothers me to know whether the schooners have tacked and stood to the southward, or kept as close to the wind as they could, and gone off to the westward.” “It isn’t possible to tell what they have done.” “That’s true for you!” added the captain, musing. “Now let us think it over seriously. We ought to have overhauled the Josephine and Tritonia just where we are at this moment,” and he glanced at the clock that hung in the pilot-house. “But there is no sight nor sound of them here.--Blow the whistle, Mr. Raymond, if you please.” “We have whistled every five minutes since the fog settled down upon us,” replied the fourth officer, as he sounded it again. It was time to heave the log, and the officer of the quarter-watch left the pilot-house to attend to this duty. In a few moments he reported the steamer as going only eight knots an hour. O’Hara was vexed at this low rate of speed; for he was persuaded that the steamer was good for at least twelve knots. He went to the engine-room to inquire into the matter. Richards was in charge of the engine; and he was seated on his cushioned bench, reading a novel. “What the blazes are you doing in here?” shouted the captain, abating no little of his natural politeness. “Sure, the steamer is making only eight knots an hour by the last log; and the schooners will bate us out at this rate.” “We are making but thirty-eight revolutions a minute; and eight miles is all that can be expected,” replied the assistant engineer. “Well, what’s the matter with her?” demanded O’Hara, not a little excited.