Kit asked the vessel’s draught and looked thoughtful when he heard what it was.

“I can’t guarantee my soundings, but imagine she won’t float across and an ugly sea is running on the bar.”

“She’ll certainly hit the bottom and the chances are she hits it hard,” Mayne remarked when Kit told him the depth he had got.  “I expect, too, the mist will drift off from the mangroves with the land-breeze and hide our marks.”  He paused and glanced at Adam, who leaned back in a corner with his eyes half shut.

“But I reckon we have got to take her in?”

“Yes,” said Adam dully.  “Leave me alone; you can fix things with Kit.”

Mayne beckoned Kit and they went to the bridge.  The moon had risen and threw a belt of silver light across the sea, but it was a half moon and would not help them much.  Ahead, in the distance, gray haze obscured the water, and the dull roar that came out of the mist had become distinct.  Mayne rang his telegraph to reduce the speed.

“So far as I can reckon, it won’t be high-water for most two hours, and on this coast you can’t calculate just how much the tide will rise.  There’s going to be trouble if we find it shoaler than we expect and I had plenty trouble coming along.  Finlay could hardly drive her four knots in last night’s breeze and the current put us on Tortillas reef.  She stopped there twenty minutes, jambed down on her bilge while the sea came on board.”

Kit noted two boats that had obviously been damaged while the steamer hammered on the reef, and the white crust of salt on the funnel; but Mayne resumed:  “Say, the old man looks shaky; never seen him like that.  You want to get him home.”

“He won’t go.  However, he’s rather worse tonight.  I think he was anxious about your turning up in time to catch the tide.  The journey tried him and now a reaction has begun.”

“Well, I allow there’s not much use in arguing if he means to stay; but he needn’t have bothered about my getting across.  When the orders came, I knew I had to bring her or pile her up.  What Askew says goes.”

They were silent for a time while the Rio Negro, with engines throbbing slowly, crept towards the coast.  The land breeze brought off a steamy heat and a sour smell.  The long undulations were wrinkled by small waves, and a thin low haze that obscured the moon spread across the water.  Kit, looking up now and then, could see the mastheads swing across the sky.  There was, however, nothing to be seen ahead but a gray line that moved back as the steamer went on.

“It’s sure a blamed bad night for our job,” Mayne remarked as he gazed towards the hidden land.  “I’m glad I told your dagos to burn a flare when they hit the channel.”

Kit said nothing.  The launch had vanished, and there was no guiding light in the mist.  The turmoil of the surf had got louder and rang through the dark like the roar of a heavy train.  Presently Mayne ordered a sounding to be taken and looked at Kit when the leadsman called the depth.