"Fog banking up," announced Mr. Grant. "Luckily we're inside the steamer track. All we'll have to mind is the cross-Channel traffic in and out of Aberstour. Put her about, Brandon. Tide's against us still. If we get closer in-shore we may dodge the worst of it." The Patrol-leader knew his work. He was well-equipped for his position. Mr. Grant stood aside, ready to correct or criticise; but there was no occasion. The yacht ran up into the wind, fell off on the other tack and gathered way without the faintest hitch. "Well done, Brandon!" exclaimed Mr. Grant. "I see we shan't escape the fog. It's banking up on all sides. Now I want you to carry on and take all necessary precautions." In a few minutes the _Puffin_ was enshrouded in a thick, clammy bank of vapour. At times it was impossible to see the bowsprit-end from the cockpit. The wind, too, had dropped until the saturated canvas was barely drawing. Meanwhile Brandon had told off Phillips to go for'ard as look-out; Wilson was instructed to stand by with the fog-horn; Hopcroft was given the hand-lead with instructions to sound occasionally, while the rest of the crew were to tend sheets and runners, should it be necessary to "go about." "There's a foghorn, sir," announced Phillips after twenty minutes had elapsed since the arrival of the fog. "Two blasts--that's a sailing vessel on the port tack." "How does the sound bear?" asked the Patrol-leader. "On our starboard bow," replied Phillips. "I thought it was on our port bow!" exclaimed Hopcroft. "No fear, it was there!" declared Carline, pointing over the yacht's starboard quarter. "Wasn't it, sir?" Thus appealed to, Mr. Grant had to confess that he was unable to say. "Wait another minute and you'll hear it again," he added. "Sound plays strange pranks in a fog. Keep our horn going, Wilson; one blast at a time 'cause we're on the starboard tack." The blare of the stranger's fog-horn grew louder and louder. Still there was no definite indication of the direction from which the sound came. Then a cock crew loudly and brazenly. "We aren't near land already!" exclaimed Carline. "No," replied the Scoutmaster. "That shows that the vessel's a fairly large one, since she carries poultry coops. Give her another blast, Phillips." The resounding echoes had hardly died away when the swish of water from the unseen vessel's bows became unpleasantly audible. Then through a temporary lifting of the mist, appeared the ghostly outlines of a huge full-rigged ship. A hoarse shout given in a foreign tongue resulted in the stranger porting helm sufficiently to enable her to run under the _Puffin's_ stern. It was a close call, but even in the moment of suspense the Sea Scouts could not help gazing with admiration at the towering canvas and graceful outlines of the craft that had narrowly avoided sending them to the bottom. "Ohé!" hailed the skipper of the ship. "'Ow ze land bears it?"