"Is Sand Haven near here?" questioned Tom. "It is not over half a mile further down the coast." "And how far are we out?" was the police sergeant's question. "Between five and six miles, as near as I can calculate." "Will they be able to run in by dark?" "I think so. You see, the wind is shifting, and it depends a good bit on how much it veers around," concluded the old sailor. Slowly the sun sank in the west. It was growing cloudy and a mist was rising. The mist made Martin Harris shake his head; but, not wishing to alarm the others, he said nothing. But soon Dick noticed the mist and so did the rest. "Gracious, supposing we get caught in a fog!" muttered Tom. "I was just thinking of it," returned his elder brother. "There will be no fun in it--if we are out of sight of land." A quarter of an hour went by, and still no land appeared. It was now so raw that the boys were glad enough to button their coats tightly about them. Then, of a sudden, the fog came rolling over them like a huge cloud, and they were unable to see a dozen yards in any direction. "This is the worst yet!" groaned Sam. "What's to do now?" "Yes, what's to do now?" repeated Sergeant Brown. "Can you make the coast, skipper?" "To be sure I can," replied Harris, as he looked at the compass. "But I don't know about landing. You see we might stick our nose into a sandbank before we knowed it." "Perhaps the fog will lift?" suggested Carter. "A fog like this isn't lifting in a hurry," said Dick. "Like as not it won't move until the sun comes up tomorrow morning," and in this guess he was right. A half-hour went by, and from a distance came the deep note of a fog-horn, sounding apparently from up the shore. "We ought to have a horn," said Sam. "Some big boat may come along and run us down." "There is a horn in the cabin pantry," replied Martin Harris. "We might as well bring it out. If we are sunk one or more of us will most likely be drowned." "Oh, don't say that!" ejaculated Carter. "I'll get the horn," and, running below, he brought it up, and he and Sam took turns at blowing it with all the strength of their lungs. "One thing is comforting; those rascals are no better off than we are," was Tom's comment. "Yes; but if they founder, what will become of Dora?" "I don't believe any one of them would put himself out to save her." "I guess you're right there, Dick. I never thought of her, poor girl," replied the brother. Dick and Sergeant Brown were well up in the bow, one watching to starboard and the other to port, for anything which might appear through the gloom. The horn was blowing constantly, and now from a distance came the sounds of both horns and bells. "We are getting close to some other ships," said Martin Harris. "I reckon we had best take a few reefs in the mainsail and stow away the jib," and these suggestions were carried out.