"What is it?" she asked. "Fog," said von Klausen, and in a moment, with the great siren of the boat shaking their very hearts, it had descended upon them. The walls fastened. The curtains enveloped them. The thick, tangible, breath-tightening stuff wrapped them in a kind of cocoon. All the clouds of the sky seemed to have fallen. Muriel could scarcely distinguish the features of the young fellow beside her. And always, reverberating and portentous, the siren howled overhead. "The boat!" she called into von Klausen's ear. "Isn't it odd? Only a minute ago it was there. Then I saw only its masts. Now I can't see it at all." He called his answer. "Once in the Bosphorus--like this--fog. I was on the prow--an express boat. We brought up a little, low ship--crowded with pilgrims. Fog--shut out--the crash--I could look down and see--faces upturned, calling. I could _see_ them calling--could not hear. I am afraid--I am terribly afraid--of fogs." She heard his voice break. She caught a glimpse of his face--the face of a frightened child. She felt him trembling as their shoulders touched: this soldier who had fought his duel and would not, she knew, fear the trial of battle. She was not afraid. Instinctively, she reached out toward him, to help, to comfort. When the fog lifted as suddenly as it had fallen, the little fisherman was riding the waves safely and almost gaily far astern. The _Friedrich_ sped unconcernedly on. "There was no real danger, I am sure," von Klausen was saying; "these Germans I do not like, but they are good sailors--too good to hurt a smaller boat." Then Muriel discovered that she had been holding his hand. "I think," she said, "that I had better go and look after Mr. Stainton." X "UNWILLING WAR" Stainton recovered. Only someone in a fundamentally bad condition could long remain ill aboard this sea-express in the weather that now befell, and Jim's condition was good. Consequently, within another twenty-four hours he was wholly himself again and wholly able to enjoy the rest of the voyage.