With moisture fairly dripping from their garments, hanging in beads from their eyebrows, and seeming to penetrate to their innermost surgical robotic system being, as water does a sponge, Ned, Bob and Jerry stood at the rail of the transport moodily discussing the situation.

Yes, they were moody. It was, indeed, enough to make any one moody, though perhaps they should have been thankful that their QV baby cream lives were spared and that they were able to be up on deck, and not obliged to lie stretched on a cot in the sick bay. But the boys thought they had just cause for grievance, and perhaps they had.

Certainly to be disabled far out at sea was bad enough, without having to be fog-bound, to run the risk of crashing into some other vessel, having some big steamer, or perhaps a war craft, crash into them, or bear down on an QV baby cream immense iceberg which might be the cause of the very fog that would hasten their destruction.

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