the captain indulged in an afternoon nap, to be in readiness for a watchful night; and the fog grew thicker and heavier as the evening came on.

the great lantern was lighted early, and the wall of fog reflected the light back in a weird, ghostly way upon the boys, who sat in the bow, dreading to go down into the little cabin.

"i feel as if we were shut up in a tomb of fog," said ralph dismally.

"well, if 'misery likes company,' it may make you happier to know the other boys are in the fog too, over on the island," returned ben.

"yes, but they have solid ground under their feet, and are not likely to be run down as we are; besides, they'll have a jolly time in spite of the fog. i know i could if i were on shore and not sea-sick, and that fog-horn of marcus's didn't sound so dismal. i wonder how many blasts he blows in a minute?"

"let's go to bed; morning will come quicker," exclaimed ben in desperation.

"if we could only sleep."

"well, we did pretty well last night."

"pretty well; but the cabin is so fishy and musty, and my stomach rolls over so many times in a minute, i can't sleep," complained ralph.

"'hark, from the tombs, a doleful sound,'" said ben, and then laughed in spite of his discomfort. "we sit here and croak like a couple of ravens, and marcus toots that everlasting horn; let's go below and try that," he continued.

ralph arose and staggered to the cabin steps, said good-night to the captain and marcus, and, followed by ben, crept into his berth. ben tried to sing one of the school glees to cheer himself and friend, and forget his sea-sickness.

"oh, hush, ben! that makes me as homesick as a cat. i tell you that little room of ours at school was an awful cosy place, after all. just think of that bed. we used to call that hard."

"yes, and that grate where we had a fire on cold nights."

"we used to rail at it and call it stuffy, but if we were only there now i'd feel like dancing."

ben struck up another tune, and hummed it through, chorus and all, to try to keep from utter wretchedness.

ralph was quiet till he finished; then he said,--

"ben, mr. bernard is a good man. he had the right of it about that lying business. i hate myself for it."

"so you said before," answered ben, beginning another air.

"i know it," interrupted ralph, "i mean it more and more. i mean never to deceive any one again."

"quoth the raven, 'nevermore;' anyway never till you get into trouble again," said ben.

"i don't care how great the trouble may be, i'll confess and be true. do you know i tried saying last night what the captain told us he said. somehow i never liked before to think the lord was looking at me, but now i am glad he is, for he can see i really mean to do better."

"it's queer you feel that way. i don't see any use worrying over a little lie. i've told dozens of them, and i never felt bad about it. i feel uncomfortable enough now, but i reckon it's my stomach and not my mind. i say, let's go to sleep."

this was easier to say than do, and both boys tossed and rolled in misery with sea-sickness, home-sickness, and fear, until from sheer exhaustion they fell asleep.

the morning dawned foggy, and foggy the day ended. the next day was like this; and the boys were too sick and worried to taste a mouthful of food. the fog did not prevent the fishing, and the two men kept busy with their lines, or their work of dressing the fish, and had little time to devote to the boys, even if they had known what to do for them.

"i wish the two little land-lubbers were safe ashore," was the fervent remark uttered over and over again by the captain, as he and marcus worked together.

"a storm is coming, and this fog will get blown higher than a kite," the boys heard the captain say.

"yes, it feels like bad weather," was marcus's answer, as he gave a wise glance around their foggy prison and blew a long blast on the big horn.

"hear that, ben?" asked ralph.

"what? the horn? yes, i hear it."

"no! didn't you hear what captain dare said? we've got to have a storm after all. in this little vessel, too. it will go down, sure as the world," and ralph grew paler than ever. ben felt very much as his friend did, but said less.

"i hear another horn, captain."

"yes!" said the captain, listening.

marcus blew again long and loud; and again was answered from out in the fog. after a while the two vessels came within hailing distance, and ralph, seized with a sudden longing, rushed up to the captain, and said eagerly,--

"o captain, it's a larger vessel than this! don't you suppose they would take us aboard? if there is going to be a storm, i would rather be in a large vessel; this is such a little egg-shell."

"egg-shell! not a bit of it. but i'd like nothing better than to get rid of you. i don't want passengers to look out for in a gale. my little smack has rode out many a storm, but i'd rather be alone with my one man."

"oh, ask them! beg them!" urged ralph, more and more excited.

"tell them we've got money to pay with," added ben a little more quietly.

the captain laughed, but gratified them by hailing the brig. "here are two boys, sea-sick and scared; storm coming; no accommodation. can you take them off my hands?"

"we are bound out," came the answer from the vessel, whose outlines were only dimly seen through the fog.

"never mind where they are bound, tell him," said ralph, pulling the captain's arm; "we don't care."

"we've no room for passengers," added the invisible speaker on the brig.

"nor i neither," grumbled the captain of the smack. "i ought to have knowed better than to take 'em;" then aloud he added, "they'll die of fright on my hands if there comes a tough gale."

"who are they?" asked the voice in the fog.

"two young scamps that belong to a school that's gone on whaleback to camp. leastways that's what i guess.--isn't it so, boys?"

"yes."

the vessels were soon far apart, and the boys, disappointed in their hopes, sat down by the captain to watch him splice a rope.

"how did you know we belonged to that school? and how did you know where they were going to camp?" they asked.

"i guessed at one and heard the other. they told me on the wharf that bernard's school was going to camp on whaleback; and when that boat came by, and you two ran for the cabin so sudden like and kept so still, i put two and two together and made four easy enough without a slate or pencil."

"that's because you are an old tar," said ben.

"but i haven't figgered out yet what you wanted to run away from that crowd for! it seems to me if i was a fellow of your age i'd rather go to camp than go aboard a fishing-smack and be sea-sick and scared to death."

neither of the boys cared to answer.

"you had some reason, i suppose. i'd really like to know it. tell me truly now--were you lying when you said your folks were willing you should come?"

"we didn't say just that. we said they didn't expect us home for a month, and they don't," said ralph; then, regardless of ben's frown of disapproval, he added, "i'll tell you how we happened to leave them. i did a mean thing--a shabby joke that didn't turn out the way i meant--and then when mr. bernard told the boy who did it to stand, i didn't dare to."

"of course you didn't!" said ben apologetically.

"no 'of course' about it!" said the captain abruptly. "an honest boy never gets out of a scrape in a mean way."

"well, i know it now, but i didn't dare to stand up. and then he pulled the line tighter by telling any one who knew the boy who did the mischief to stand; and joe chester was the only fellow that confessed to knowing. he gave us several chances on that, and tried to shame us out of lying; and at last, as long as joe chester wouldn't tell, mr. bernard said unless the other fellow confessed, joe would have to lose his camping-out time with the crowd."

"did you own it?" asked the captain.

"not then. i felt meaner than dirt; but i was afraid i'd be expelled. it went on that way till the night before the school left for the island; then i couldn't stand it to have joe left behind, and i up and wrote a note and left it for mr. bernard, confessing all."

"and what did you have to do with it, ben?" asked captain dare, wondering why ralph had not mentioned him.

"i? oh, i knew about it, but i wasn't going to tell on ralph."

"then you got behind me to keep out of their way," said captain dare. "well, what is going to be the end of it all?"

ralph shook his head.

"none of us know, and that's a fact, boys! but it ought to be a lesson to you to keep truth on your side. lies never pay."

"so i believe," said ralph in sober earnest.

"i begin to think so too," said ben. "anyhow, these didn't."

"now's the time to take a fresh start, then; and i hope we'll all of us live so we can be glad to have the lord see all we do and hear all we say,--yes, and know all we think, too. that's the tough part--the heart is such a queer thing. sometimes it looks all fair and smooth, and we feel pretty well satisfied with ourselves; but just dig down a little way and we'll find a lot of rubbish there we are ashamed of. the only way is to keep it open for the lord to look through all the time."

then, after a silence, during which the boys looked gloomily out into the fog that seemed to be growing blacker and heavier like a pall, he added cheerfully, "well, good-night, boys; keep up good courage. the una is a tough little boat, and has rode out many a stiff gale."

"she's such a little thing to fight against big waves and strong wind," said ben.

"yes; when i'm down in that cabin i feel as if there was no more than a paper wall between us and the other world," added ralph.

"less than that, boy, less than that. there's only a breath 'twixt us and the other world any time, on sea or on land. what's the difference, as long as god's hand holds on to us? i feel just as safe as my little grand-baby does in his crib," said the captain.

"i don't," said ben in a low tone; "i'd give all i own, and all my father owns too, if i was near enough the shore to jump on it. i'd be willing to make a long leap too."

"good-night," again said the captain, as if to dismiss them.

"good-night," replied the boys; but they were restless and anxious, and could not bear to go down into the close cabin, which seemed more like a prison than ever.

the storm had not commenced, and the only sign of it that the boys could see was the blackness of the fog and the peculiar feeling of the air, which seemed heated and heavy.

they sat down again behind the cabin, where the captain could not see them, and spoke in whispers.

"let's stay on deck all night," said ben. "if she capsizes we would stand a better chance here."

"i don't suppose we'd have the least chance in either place," was the doleful reply.

"that vessel might have taken us off," grumbled ben.

ralph was feeling too badly to talk, and he stared at the fog in a despairing way. they sat there until the wind began to blow, and the spray from the big waves to dash over them; then, as a last resort, they retreated to the cabin.

"good-night, captain," said ralph dolefully as he passed.

"what! you two fellows on deck yet! i thought i sent you below a couple of hours ago. down with you! you'll be washed overboard if you stay up here."