This, I considered, was
sacrificing to appearances as much time as I could allow.
But the breeze was light and fitful, and we made but little progress,
and about the middle of the forenoon a fog came slowly creeping up from
the sea. It grew thicker and heavier, until in an hour or two we were
completely shut out from all view of the world about us. There was now
no wind. Our sail hung damp and flabby; moisture, silence, and obscurity
were upon us.
The rest of the day we sat doleful, waiting for the fog to lift and the
wind to rise. My fear was that we might drift out to sea or upon some
awkward shoals; for, though everything else was still, the tide would
move us. What Walkirk feared, if anything, I do not know, but he kept up
a good heart, and rigged a lantern some little distance aloft, which, he
said, might possibly keep vessels from running into us. He also
performed, at intervals, upon a cornet which he had brought with him.
This was a very wise thing to do, but, for some reason or other, such
music, in a fog, depressed my spirits; however, as it seemed quite
suitable to the condition of my affairs I did not interfere, and the
notes of Bonnie Doon or My Old Kentucky Home continued to be soaked into
the fog.
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