ory, "what was that?"

"Sounded like a bell tolling," exclaimed Rob.

"It is a bell!" cried Merritt.

Sure enough, borne over the gently heaving water, there came to their
ears the melancholy ding-dong of a deep-toned bell. Coming as it did
from the abandoned sea-riven hulk it cast a gloom over them.

"Who can be ringing it?" cried Tubby, in what was for him, an
awe-stricken voice.

"No mystery about it, I guess," said Lieutenant Murray; "it is the
ship's bell, and as the craft rolls it is ringing a requiem for the
dead."

"Ugh! It gives me the shudders!" exclaimed Hiram.

"It's not a cheerful sound certainly," agreed Rob.

"Bom-boom; bom-boom," chimed the bell, waxing now faint, now loud, as
the wind rose and fell.

"I'd like to go aboard that boat and explore her," declared Merritt.

"That's an opportunity you shall have," said the Lieutenant. "It is our
rule to explore all such derelicts for a hint as to the fate of their
crew before we consign them to the deep."

Orders were given to check the speed of the _Seneca_ and to prepare to
lower a boat.

"Are we to go?" chorused the Scouts eagerly.

"Of course. Mr. Hargreaves will accompany you."

"Aren't you going?" asked Rob.

"No. It's an old story with me. While we are waiting for you, I will
work out our position, which must go in with my report of the derelict's
destruction."

Five minutes later, in one of the _Seneca's_ whale boats, the boys were
skimming over the sea toward the melancholy old derelict. As they glided
along, the bell kept up its monotonous booming with the regularity of a
shore bell summoning worshippers to church.

As the whaleboat was pulled around the derelict's stern they could see a
name painted on the square counter, surrounded with many a scroll and
flourish in the antique manner. These flourishes had once been gilded
and painted, but the gilt and color had long since worn off them.

"_Good Hope of Portland, Me._," read out Rob. "What a contrast between
her name and her fate!"

"Bom-boom," tolled the bell as if in answer to him.

"She must have been one of those old-time clippers that sailed round the
Horn with Yankee notions for the Spice Islands and China, and came back
with tea and other Oriental goods," opined Ensign Hargreaves.

"She was a fine ship in her day, sir," ventured the old quartermaster
who pulled stroke oar.

"Aye, aye, Tarbox; in those days the American mercantile marine was a
thing to be proud o