George Rongner

The morning of February 25 dawned dismal and slow. It had, in fact, been dismal long before the grayness of morning fully developed, for fog had settled about us in spite of a brisk thirty knot wind from the dreaded southwesterly sector. The fog horns had chattered incessantly from 2:30 a.m. and southwesterly seas mauled us as they pounded against the bow. The ship twisted and bobbed, back forth, up and down, back and forth, up and down. Decks moaned, rigging whistled, halyards slapped, and the anchor acted oddly as the chain emitted a shrill metallic scraping behavior.

Of all the scourge of the sea, fog is by far the most contemptible. On the lightship LV 5114 [BUZZARDS Lightship Station near Cape Cod, MA] sailors learned to distrust fog more than the dreaded southwest wind - detested its influx. It was an unwelcome visitor. It became a hated arch-enemy. Most preferred the hoisting of storm warnings to the invasion of fog, which was cursed more than any other single object, condition or person. There are several types of fog, several known causes for its formation and various reasons why it was so unpopular.