ewhere below Sandy Hook."

Bad news spreads as if by magic. In a little while the other members of
the party, having read the story for themselves or heard of it from
others, gathered round Merriwell.

"Well, he was an honest boy," said Hodge, a noticeable tremor in his
voice.

"A better-hearted lad never lived!" Merriwell asserted.

Frank's mind went back to Fardale, and, grieved as he was, he could
again hear the yells of Barney Mulloy and Hans Dunnerwust, when they
crawled into bed with the lobsters, which they thought were centipedes.
It had been one of the funniest incidents of the Fardale days, for both
thought they were poisoned by the bites of the creatures, and that they
would surely die. The whole thing had been a practical joke, in which
Frank had played a prominent part. And now Barney, the mischievous, the
loyal, the reckless, was dead!

"I can hardly believe it!" Merry declared. "It doesn't seem possible.
But there is one thing! I shall spend some money in having those hoboes
hunted down and punished for their crime."

"I wish I could have happened along there about the time they jumped on
him!" growled Hodge, and the light in his dark face showed that he would
have done his best to make it hot for the hoboes if he could have put
his hands on them. "Barney had the right kind of stuff in him."

This depressing bit of news took all the merriment and life out of the
little party. And, as the steamer wallowed on through the increasing
fog, the world seemed suddenly to have become wrapped in gloom.

"Wish we'd stayed in New Haven!" grunted Browning. "I'll have to smoke
faster to keep warm, or go below."

"And I wish we were in New York," said Bink. "There is something there
to warm up the blood."

Danny looked at him.

"Drinks? Likely the captain has a private bottle tucked away somewhere
that he will give you a nip out of."

"Life, I mean. Pulsing streets, swarms of people, theaters,
hand-organs----"

"Oh, yes, a monkey is usually lost away from a hand-organ!"

"I suppose that is why you always seem so lonesome! When Merry is sad,
we all are--grumpy! New York would help to lift us out of the dumps."

CHAPTER XXII.

ADRIFT IN THE ATLANTIC.

"So thick you might cut it with a knife!"

Captain Darien, who had walked forward and joined the group of
Merriwell's friends, looked off into the wall of gloom as he said this.
The _Merry Seas_ was mournfully blowing her whistle, and others we