Not a star peeped out in the course of the night, and the Captain, running wholly by dead reckoning, was an anxious man. Toward morning he had the lead hove every half-hour, and his wisdom was shown by the result of the soundings, which proved that the _Golden Fleece_ had over-run her reckoning by eight miles--quite enough to cause disaster if near land, or dangerous shoals. The latter was the case, for the Nautucket Shoals were not far away. The weather continued to be thick and "dirty," and Captain Jason Argo was constantly on the alert. There were dangerous shallows ahead of him and uncertain currents under him, and he knew that it was his duty to get the _Golden Fleece_ to port as quickly as possible. But no amount of speed would atone for running the vessel on the Long Island or New Jersey shore, now hourly drawing nearer behind the impenetrable mist. Speed was reduced to fifteen knots, and the lead was hove every hour.
"I am steering now," said the Captain, "to cross the meridian of 70° west in latitude 40° 40' north. But to do that I must pass about six miles south of the South Shoal Light-ship, which is in latitude 40° 46' north, and longitude 69° 56' west. I don't need to see that vessel or hear her fog signal, because the soundings south of her will give me my latitude to a minute, and my longitude almost as well."
"Yes, sir," said the first officer, who had heard something like this before.
"All the same," said the Captain, "I'm not in love with this business of running in with the land in thick weather, and when we are half a dozen miles this side of that light-ship I want the lead down every fifteen minutes."
The navigation of the ship now became a business requiring the utmost caution. Owing to the invisibility of the heavenly bodies it was impossible to ascertain the precise amount of error in the compass. The treacherous Nantucket Shoals, with their changeful currents, were close at hand. The Captain had his chart spread before him, and on it he was tracing the course of the ship as shown by the soundings. She would run twelve miles, and the chart would show that she ought then to be in thirty-four fathoms. The sounding-machine would give the depth. If it was less than thirty-four fathoms, she was north of her apparent course; if more, she was south. She was literally feeling her way. It was nearly 6 P.M., and a fine misty rain narrowed the horizon down to a small circle of two miles in diameter. The _Golden Fleece_ was slowed down to eight knots, and soundings were taken every fifteen minutes. Suddenly the dull blast of a steam-whistle was heard far off the starboard bow. The first officer hastily drew out his watch and counted the seconds. Nearly half a minute passed, and then came another blast, three times as long as the first.