The wind and waves, too, went down in the fog; the now invisible and
hushed breakers occasionally sent the surf over the sand in a quick
whisper, with grave intervals of silence, but with no continuous murmur
as before. In a curving bight of the shore the creaking of oars in their
rowlocks began to be distinctly heard, but the boat itself, although
apparently only its length from the sands, was invisible.
"Steady, now; way enough." The voice came from the sea, and was low, as
if unconsciously affected by the fog. "Silence!"
The sound of a keel grating the sand was followed by the order, "Stern
all!" from the invisible speaker.
"Shall we beach her?" asked another vague voice.
"Not yet. Hail again, and all together."
"Ah hoy--oi--oi--oy!"
There were four voices, but the hail appeared weak and ineffectual, like
a cry in a dream, and seemed hardly to reach beyond the surf before
it was suffocated in the creeping cloud. A silence followed, but no
response.
"It's no use to beach her and go ashore until we find the boat," said
the first voice, gravely; "and we'll do that if the current has brought
her here.
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