Have you ever heard of “fog at sea”? Well, sometimes it becomes very dense and you can scarcely see the full length of the ship. Seamen dread fog more than storms. It is then that the captain’s face lengthens and his seat at table is vacant. There is great danger of collisions, for ships get nearer each other then, because they cannot see ahead. There is greater danger in going in and out of port when fog is dense, and many times have we read of steamers running into each other just as they were getting near to the stopping place. Such an occurrence usually means a great loss of life, for there is seldom time enough to save the unfortunate ones. The speed of a vessel should always be slackened when it is in a fog; but I am sorry to say that many of the captains are careless, as much so as engineers on our trains; they rush along anxious to make quick time, and if possible to gain port before ships of another line do. Many times they do gain port first, but it is the port of death; and we are made to think that the loss of life is a high price to pay for quick time. We have been in fog a great many times. Once we were enveloped in it five days and five nights. All steamers sound the fog horn, and every few minutes during that time the disagreeable sound was heard. They gave it as a warning to other vessels, that they might keep away from them, thereby avoiding collisions. There are always men on the lookout for danger. In a box way up in the rigging of the ship two men stand watching day and night, no difference how bad the weather is. Several men take their turn in watching, thus giving each one an opportunity to rest. If at any time there seems to be a suspicious object in their line of travel, the man calls out in loud tones, “Danger ahead.” Sometimes the object seen proves to be a wreck, and if a signal of danger is seen, all haste is made to go to the rescue of those on board, and many lives are saved in that way. The box in which those men stand is called the “lookout box,” and from it is called the hour of day. I remember so well of hearing them call the midnight hour time and again. It was called thus, “Twelve o’clock”; and then, “All is well.” O what a satisfaction it always was to know that all was well; then after that call I was sure to fall into a sweet sleep, only to awaken at the dawn of another day.