17.

THE COLLISION IN THE FOG

We are all familiar with Marjorie Pickthall as a poet, but not so

many of us know that she has also written many excellent stories. This
selection is taken from The Bridge: A Story of the Great Lakes. The
incident, complete in itself without reference to the novel, takes place
on Lake Ontario.

The mysterious doors of the mist had opened. They

heard the beat of engines plainly. Garroch said, “If
we could but get some way on her! They’re very near.
They're...”

“Right on us!” screamed the boy.

As though some solid intervening substance had been

at that instant withdrawn, they heard the engines, saw a
red light and a green one, like little balls of coloured wool in
the fog, bearing straight down on the Martine’s starboard
quarter. They jumped to the side and shouted wildly.
They heard a shout in answer; the beat of the engines
altered, slowed; a little the lights changed line. They |
waited. Garroch said aloud, ‘‘They can’t clear us. . .”

The boy sobbed with suspense and excitement.

Then a shadowy gleaming bow struck the schooner with

a gentle thrusting motion just abaft the mizzen chains.
She heeled over to port. The steamer’s bows, coming
round, scraped slowly along her side, and the two vessels
ground their length together, surged on with a strange
effect of leisureliness, and as slowly separated. The tug—
it was a fishing-tug—backed away and immediately van-
ished into the mist. The Martine swung and settled herself
once more on an even keel. |

A strange voice, extraordinarily clear, though the speaker

was invisible, drawled through the fog, “That was a close
call!’

“Too close. Didn’t you hear our siren, sonny?”

‘Thought it was miles away. Say, you all right?”

“Guess so,”

Garroch: ghr’ok Martine: mir-tén’

127