not rendering the coast any more visible.  I knew that before me, somewhere, lay the reef of Norman’s Woe.  The huge rock on the inside of the reef, separated from the shore by a narrow strait, I judged must be right ahead, but not knowing how near, I kept on, cautiously looking behind, every few strokes, and began to think I must have passed it in the fog, when suddenly, as if it had stepped in the way, it rose before me, its top lost in the mist, and with the sullen drip and splash of the sea on its almost perpendicular sides.  I had to back water with some force, and, skirting the reef, stood on till fairly outside,—­when, turning shoreward again, I went on to the edge of the surf.

Resuming my former style of navigation, almost twisting my head off to keep a sharp look-out for rocks and reefs, I came to what seemed to be the mouth of Gloucester harbor, and there stopped for a moment.  There was no use in pulling up one side of the harbor and down the other, four miles, while in a straight line to the Point it was only one and a half.  I had almost decided on rowing the longer distance, however, when I heard a bell ringing somewhere in the direction of Eastern Point.  It was striking in measured time, and the sound came across the water with great distinctness.  It puzzled me a little, till I remembered there was a fog-bell as well as a light-house on the Point.  Hoping that the tolling would continue, I aimed for the bell as straight as possible.  With a couple of strokes the shore vanished, and nothing could be seen but fog.  Rowing where there is plenty of light and yet nothing visible is embarrassing business.  One must rely wholly upon the sense of hearing, as eyes are of no use in such a case.  Fearing that the bell might cease before I got across, I bent with a will upon the oars and went racing through the fog.  The sound grew more and more distinct with each peal, when, suddenly as the apparition of Norman’s Woe, right before me sprang up the black dripping hull of a fishing-schooner, becalmed, and rocking with the roll of the sea; one turn and I shot beneath her bows, passed her, and was lost in the fog before the fat darkey who was lazily fishing by the bowsprit could shift from one side of the deck to the other to keep me in sight.  The creaking of blocks and the heavy flap of wet sails warned me of the neighborhood of other vessels.  In a short time I could hear the rusty grating of the pivot as the bell turned; then my boat glided close under the rock on which the light-house stands.  At that moment the fog opened half across the bay, showing clearly my track with more than a dozen vessels lying close by it.  The lifting was but for a moment; back rolled the cloud and all was invisible again.  I rounded the Point, however, and went ahead, pulling along the eastern coast of the Cape in the fog.