"No, not in August," Bill a.s.sented; "but you see these here fogs may last just as long down here in August as they do in London in November."

"I don't think so, Bill. Anyhow it doesn't matter to us; we have got the land for a guide, and I hope we shall be back in Gravesend before it's quite dark."

"But if we don't, George?"

"Well, if we don't we must run her ash.o.r.e before it gets too dark, and wait till it is morning. We shall be all right if we keep quite cool and use our senses. If we had something to eat I shouldn't mind a bit, except that mother will be getting anxious about us. It's a regular adventure, and we shall have something to talk about for a long time.

Look out, Bill, we must push her further off--she's getting aground!"

For an hour they sat and chatted.

"Hullo! what's that?" Bill exclaimed at last. "That's the rattle of a chain. I expect it's a barge anchoring somewhere near. Listen; I can hear voices. I vote we hollo."

George lifted up his voice in a l.u.s.ty shout. The shout was repeated not very far off, and was followed by the shout of "Who are you?"

"We have drifted down from Gravesend and lost our way," George shouted back. "We will come on board if you will let us."

"All right!" the voice replied; "I will go on shouting and you row to my voice."

It was but a hundred yards, and then a voice close at hand said sharply:

"Row bow hard or you will be across the chain."

Bill rowed hard, and George, looking round, saw that they were close to the bows of a barge. Half a dozen more strokes and they were alongside. Bill seized a hand-rope and sprang onto the barge, and the boat was soon towing astern.

"Well, young men, however did you manage to get here?" one of the bargemen asked. "It's lucky for you you weren't taken out to sea with the tide."

George related the history of their voyage and how they had managed to reach the sh.o.r.e.

"Well, you are good-plucked uns anyhow," the man said; "aint they, Jack? Most chaps your age would just have sat in the boat and howled, and a good many longsh.o.r.emen too. You have done the best thing you could under the circ.u.mstances."

"Where are we?" George asked.

"You are on board the _Sarah and Jane_ topsail barge, that's where you are, about three parts down Sea Reach. We know our way pretty well even in a fog, but we agreed it was no use trying to find the Swashway with it as thick as this, so we brought up."

"Where is the Swashway?" George asked.

"The Swashway is a channel where the barges go when they are making for Sheerness. It's well buoyed out and easy enough to follow with the help of Sheerness lights on a dark night; but these fogs are worse than anything. It aint no use groping about for the buoy when you can't see ten yards ahead, and you might find yourself high and dry on the mud and have to wait till next tide. Mayhap this fog will clear off before evening, and we shall be able to work in; and now I expect you two young uns would like some grub. Come below."

The two boys joyfully followed into the little cabin, and were soon satisfying their hunger on bread and cold meat. The bargee drew a jug of water from the breaker and placed it before them.

"The fire has gone out," he said, "or I would give yer a cup of tea--that's our tipple; we don't keep spirits on board the _Sarah and Jane_. I like a drop on sh.o.r.e, but it aint stuff to have on a barge, where you wants your senses handy at all times. And now what are you thinking of doing?" he asked when the boys had finished.

"What we had made up our minds to do was to lie where we were at the edge of the mud till tide turned, and then to keep as close to the sh.o.r.e as we could until we got back to Gravesend. The steamer we came by does not go back till late, and we thought we should be back by that time."

"No, you wouldn't," the man said. "Out in the middle of the stream you would be back in two hours easy, but not close insh.o.r.e. The tide don't help you much there, and half your time you are in eddies and back-currents. No, you wouldn't be back in Gravesend by eight noway."

"Then what would you advise us to do?"

"Well, just at present I won't give no advice at all. We will see how things are going after a bit. Now let's take a look round."

So saying he climbed the ladder to the deck, followed by the boys. The white fog still shut the boat in like a curtain.

"What do you think of it, Jack?"

"Don't know," the other replied. "Thought just now there was a puff of air coming down the river. I wish it would, or we shan't make Sheerness to-night, much less Rochester. Yes, that's a puff sure enough. You are in luck, young uns. Like enough in half an hour there will be a brisk wind blowing, driving all this fog out to sea before it."

Another and another puff came, and tiny ripples swept across the oil-like face of the water.

"It's a-coming, sure enough," the bargeman said. "I'd bet a pot of beer as the fog will have lifted in a quarter of an hour."

Stronger and stronger came the puffs of wind.

The fog seemed as if stirred by an invisible hand. It was no longer a dull, uniform whitish-gray; dark shadows seemed to flit across it, and sometimes the view of the water extended here and there.

"There's the sh.o.r.e!" Bill exclaimed suddenly, but ere George could turn round to look it was gone again.

"I shall have the anchor up directly, lads. Now I tell you what will be the best thing for you if the wind holds, as I expect it will. We shall be at Sheerness in little over an hour--that will make it four o'clock," he added, consulting his watch, "and the young flood will be coming up soon afterwards, and I shall go up with the first of it to Rochester. We shall get there maybe somewhere about seven o'clock. Now the best thing I can do for you is to tow that ere boat up to Rochester with me, and you can get a train there that will take you up to town in goodish time."

"You are very kind," George said; "but what are we to do about the boat?"

"I shall be going back to-morrow night, or more likely next morning, and I will take her along and hand her over to her rightful owner at Gravesend."

"James Kitson."

"Yes, I know him."

"But how about paying for it?" George said. "I am afraid he will expect a great deal of money, for it has been away all the time, and we have only got six shillings between us."

"You will want that to get up to town. Never mind about the boat. I will put that square for you. I will tell Kitson as how you have been shipwrecked, and he will think himself precious lucky in getting the boat without being damaged. If I take the trouble to tow it up to Rochester and back, he needn't grumble about getting no fare."

"I would rather pay something," George said; "though, you see, we can't afford to pay much."

"Well, then, you send him a post-office order for five bob. I will tell him you are going to send him that, and he will thank his stars he has got so well out of it. If you had drifted out to sea, as he expects you have by this time, and the boat didn't get smashed by a steamer, you would likely enough have been taken off by one of them; but the captain wouldn't have troubled himself about that old tub. I looks upon Kitson as being in luck this job, so don't you worry about him. There, the mist's driving off fast. We will up with the kedge."

The boys lent a hand at the windla.s.s, and the anchor was soon hanging from the bow. Then the brail of the mainsail was loosed, and the great sail shaken out. The foresail was hoisted, and in a few minutes the _Sarah and Jane_ was running before a brisk wind down Sea Reach.

The fog had rolled off now, and it was clear astern, though a thick bank still hung over the river ahead, but this was rapidly melting away; and the bargeman, who told them his name was Will Atkins, pointed out a large building low down on the water ahead.

"That's Sheerness Fort," he said. "You can lend Jack a hand to get up the topsail. The wind is rising every minute, and we shall soon be bowling along hand over hand."

Both ahead and astern of them were a line of barges, which had, like the _Sarah and Jane_, anch.o.r.ed when the fog was thickest, and were, like her, making their way to Sheerness. The wind was blowing briskly now, and the barge made her way through the water at a rate which surprised the boys.

"I had no idea that barges sailed so fast," George said.

"There are not many craft can beat them," Atkins replied. "With a breeze so strong that they can only just carry their topsails, they will hold their own with pretty nigh anything afloat. There are mighty few yachts can keep alongside us when we are doing our best."

As Atkins had predicted, in little over an hour they brought up just inside the mouth of the Medway, and dropped the anchor to wait till the tide turned to help them up to Rochester. At six o'clock they were again under way. The wind had fortunately veered round somewhat to the north of west, and they were able for the most part to lay their course, so that soon after seven they were abreast of the dockyard, and a few minutes later dropped anchor off Rochester.