"Don't fish any more," said Dabney, at last. "You've caught ten times as many as we ever thought of catching. Whoppers, too, some of 'em." "Biggest fishing ever I did," remarked Ford, as if that meant a great deal. "Or mos' anybody else out dis yer way," added Dick. "I isn't 'shamed to show dem fish anywhar." "No more I aint," said Dab; "but you're getting too tired, and so am I. We must have a good hearty lunch, and put the "Swallow" before the wind for a while. I daren't risk any more of these cross-seas. We might get pitched over any minute." "Dat's so," said Dick. "And I's awful hungry." The "Swallow" was well enough provisioned, not to speak of the blue-fish, and there was water enough on board for several days, if they should happen to need it; but there was very little danger of that, unless the wind should continue to be altogether against them. It was blowing hard when the boys finished their dinner, but no harder than it had already blown, several times, that day, and the "Swallow" seemed to be putting forth her very best qualities as a "sea-boat." No immediate danger, apparently; but there was one "symptom" which Dab discerned, as he glanced around the horizon, which gave him more anxiety than either the stiff breeze or the rough sea. The coming darkness? No; for stars and light-houses can be seen at night, and steering is easy enough by them. A fog is the darkest thing at sea, whether by night or day, and Dabney saw signs of one coming. Rain might come with it, but that would be of small account. "Boys," said Dabney, "do you know we're out of sight of land at last?" "Oh no, we're not," replied Ford, confidently; "look yonder." "That isn't land, Ford; that's only a fog-bank, and we shall be all in the dark in ten minutes. The wind is changing, too, and I hardly know where we are." "Look at your compass." "That tells me the wind is changing a little, and it's going down; but I wouldn't dare to run toward the shore in a fog and in the night." "Why not?" "Why? Don't you remember those breakers? Would you like to be blown through them, and not see where you were going?" "No," said Ford. "I rather guess I wouldn't." "Jest you let Capt'in Kinzer handle dis yer boat," almost crustily, interposed Dick Lee. "He's de on'y feller on board dat un'erstands nagivation." "Shouldn't wonder if you're right," said Ford, good humoredly. "At all events I sha'n't interfere. But, Dab, what do you mean to do?" "Swing a lantern at the mast-head and sail right along. You and Dick get a nap, by and by, if you can. I wont try to sleep till daylight." "Sleep! Catch me sleeping!" "You must, and so must Dick, when the time comes. Wont do to get all worn out together. Who'd handle the boat?"