But for a long time no more friendly voices came hurtling through the air. The night grew darker and rougher. The wind was rising. From the sea the sound of the waves came ever louder. Higher rolled the waters and the little _Surveyor_ rocked ever more violently. But she was a seaworthy craft, and there was as yet not enough sea to drive her to shelter. Back and forth she went, across her beat, and back and forth went her companion ships through the murky night. Minute followed minute. The patrol continued undisturbed. If possible, the night grew darker and blacker. Wisps of fog began to scud through the Narrows, driven landward by the bellowing wind. The distant lights ashore grew dim. The mist was blotting them out. What the Chief had feared was happening. A fog was rolling in from the sea. But as yet it was not dense. Rather it was shifting, evanescent. Now came a cloud of it, sweeping along before the wind. When it passed, it left a great gulf of darkness. Soon came more fog, to swallow up everything in its concealing embrace. Warm garments were no protection against it. Stout coats could not bar out the cold. The crews of the little fleet could only shiver and wrap themselves the tighter. They could not escape the damp, numbing chill. With his coat collar pulled high up about his ears, and his hands buried in his pockets, Willie sat at his instrument, listening. His teeth were well-nigh achatter. He was shaking with cold. Little shivers ran up and down his back. Now he would have welcomed a chance to thrash about with his arms, to beat his limbs until the blood was surging through them again. But he could not. His duty was to stay by the wireless. So he sat, shivering, chilled almost to numbness, listening for the message which, it seemed, would never come. Occasionally the fog lifted for a moment. At such times the watchers could see afar off toward the sea a glow of light. It was the _Morro Castle_, beating her way in at half speed. Then the fog curtain would drop again, and the night become like a cave for darkness. Suddenly Willie was startled into activity. His call was sounding in his ear. Reynolds was trying to get him. Willie threw over his switch. “Steamer _Morro Castle_. _Surveyor_ answering,” he flashed. “All right. Go ahead.” “Four power boats just passed us making for the Narrows,” came the message. “Appear to be rum runners. We are two or three miles outside the Narrows.” “Thanks,” answered Willie. “We’ll be on the watch. Good-bye.” Then he snatched his ’phone piece from his ear and sought the Chief. “_Morro Castle_ just telegraphed that four rum running power boats had passed her, heading for the Narrows. The _Morro Castle_ is three or four miles out.” The Chief sprang to his feet. “Call the other boats,” he said. “Tell them to watch sharp. Tell them to wait until the rum runners come close, then spot them with their flashlights and order them to stop. Use rifles, if necessary.”