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“Sure, we’re in a fog; where else would we be? Don’t you be affeared.”

“I ain’t affeared, but Em’s shivering.”

“Give her me coat,” said the oarsman, resting on his oars and taking it off. “Wrap it round her; and when it’s round her we’ll all let one big halloo together. There’s an ould shawl som’er in the boat, but I can’t be after lookin’ for it now.”

He held out the coat and an almost invisible hand took it; at the same moment a tremendous report shook the sea and sky.

“There she goes,” said Mr Button; “an’ me old fiddle an’ all. Don’t be frightened, childer; it’s only a gun they’re firin’ for divarsion. Now we’ll all halloo togither—are yiz ready?”

“Ay, ay,” said Dick, who was a picker-up of sea terms.

“Halloo!” yelled Pat.

“Halloo! Halloo!” piped Dick and Emmeline.

A faint reply came, but from where, it was difficult to say. The old man rowed a few strokes and then paused on his oars. So still was the surface of the sea that the chuckling of the water at the boat’s bow as she drove forward under the impetus of the last powerful stroke could be heard distinctly. It died out as she lost way, and silence closed round them like a ring.