“Anyhow,” said the captain, “I’m not going to try it on; so you must inform your master of my definite decision.  He cannot be more anxious than I am.  I’ve scarcely closed my eyes since we left, and if this continues I must face another night of it.”

He then went on to the bridge, and had only been there about half an hour when his persistent passenger approached him beseechingly, stating that the pasha would give a hundred pounds if he was landed that night.

“I would not attempt such a thing for twenty hundred,” said the captain.

“Will nothing tempt you, then, to run a risk?” asked the interpreter.

“Nothing but the clearing away of the fog,” replied the commander.

He then commenced to walk the bridge, and pondered over the experience he was having, wrestling with himself as to the amount of risk he should run.  He called the second officer to him, and gave him orders to go aloft to the foretopgallant mast-head and see if he could make anything out.  The officer was in the act of jumping into the rigging when a Turkish schooner sailed close alongside and was soon out of sight.  The captain knew then that he was in the vicinity of the entrance, and set the engines easy ahead.  The second mate, after being at the mast-head about ten minutes, shouted—­

“I see over the top of the fog a lighthouse or tower on the port bow.  I can see no land.”

When he was asked if he could see anything on the starboard bow, his answer came in the negative.  The captain, fearing lest he might be steering into the false Bosphorus, which is a treacherous deep bight that has been the death-trap of many a ship’s crew, gave orders to stop her while he ran aloft to verify the officer’s report and scan over the mist for some landmark to guide him in navigating in the right direction.  He had only been a few minutes at the mast-head when he discerned the white lighthouse on the starboard bow.  There was no doubt now that these were the Bosphorus lighthouses, and the vessel was heading right for the centre.  The captain asked if they could see anything from the deck.  The chief mate replied that he could scarcely see the forecastle head, so dense was the fog.  The master shouted that he would navigate the steamer from the topgallant-yard, and gave instructions to go slow ahead, and to keep a vigilant look-out for passing vessels.  Half an hour’s steaming brought them abreast of the lighthouses, when suddenly they glided into beautiful, clear weather.  The scene was phenomenal.  Not a speck of fog was to be seen ahead of the vessel, while astern there stood a great black pall, as though one had drawn a curtain across the harbour entrance.