The fog, nevertheless, had rolled down quickly through the gloom of the early night on the gust of the black breeze, still nor'west. Black it was. Nothing was visible of the ship but a few spokes of light, like the arrested darting of meteoric fibres spiking from the glass on the skylight in a fiery arch. When the darkness of the night dyes the darkness of fog then the universal blackness is so deep that you might think the solid globe had vanished, and that you hung in the centre of space, death-dark and silent, moonless and starless, chaotic with dumb masses of the deep electric dye. This night the fancy would have been easily inspired by the hush upon the sea, for the sails floated stirless; there was not wind enough to brush the salt curve into the expiring hiss of foam, and the invisible swell so lightly swayed the eclipsed fabric that only now and again did you catch the sad note of the sea, sobbing along the bends, and hiddenly passing away into the short wake in sighs and tones of weeping. "Mr. Candy!" called the captain. "Sir!" came the answer out of the soft invisibility in which the bulwarks abreast were buried. They came together in the spokes of radiance about the skylight. "Clew up all three royals and furl them. Let go all three topgallant halliards; the sails may hang. Haul up the mainsail; brail in the mizzen, and down flying and outer jibs, topmast and topgallant staysails, but leave the sails unfurled. See that your side-lights are burning brightly, and bend your sharpest ear over the water for a noise. Was anything in sight before this smother rolled down?" "I saw nothing, sir. It was a bit thick before the fog came along, and then it came in a wall." The captain went to the side to look over and mark the ship's pace, and the second mate began to sing out. One watch sufficed. There was little to do but let go with the drag of the downhauls; and the clews of the great mainsail rose to the slings to the sound of a few ocean yelps and a "_Chiliman_" chorus. The men were not to be seen until they ran up against you. They felt for the ropes, and their footfalls were like the pattering of dead leaves on a pavement to a sudden air of wind, strangely threading with the shore-going sound the squeak of the sheave, the rasp of rope, and the soft scraping of parrel descending the greased topgallant heights. The side-lights were reported as burning bravely. The ship now had little more than steerage way, and the captain, after looking into the compass, and after repeating his instructions to the second mate to keep his best ear seawards and on either bow, said he would send the dog on deck, and returned to the cabin. CHAPTER VI. THE SHIP'S LOOKOUT Captain Layard entered the cabin and called to the dog, which instantly sprang up. "Sailor, go on deck and keep a lookout," said he, and in a breath the Newfoundland rushed up the companion-steps and vanished. "He hasn't had his supper yet, father," exclaimed the little boy.