At length weariness overcame the whole party. Then Inza was left in full possession of the cuddy, while Hodge and Frank crept into a narrow sleeping-place forward which Jabez Sloc.u.m pointed out to them. As for the fishermen themselves, they seemed content to stretch out under a tarpaulin on deck; and the _Sarah Jane_, with lights set to show her position, though they could not have been seen a dozen feet distant, rocked sleepily in the fog at the end of her cable.

When morning dawned, the fog rolled away under the influence of a brilliant sun, showing an attractive sight. Other fishing-boats, big and little, were rising and falling on the swell. To the northward a steamer, outward bound, trailed from her triple funnels banners of black smoke. From the southward a "fruiter," as the vessels bringing fruit from the West Indies are called, came bravely up the coast. There were other vessels--schooners, barks, sloops, and the coast itself was visible as a blue line. Finally, one of the Sloc.u.m brothers came to Merriwell and held out a sc.r.a.p of paper. Frank glanced at it, and read, in an almost illegible scrawl: "Sea Cove."

"They will take us to Sea Cove!" Inza explained.

"New York City," Merry wrote.

The deaf-mate shook his head and again pointed to the name "Sea Cove."

"What's the odds?" said Bart. "There is a railway there, and no doubt boats running to New York. And then it will give us an opportunity to investigate the murder of poor Barney a little. By to-night we can be in New York, if all goes well!"

"Put us aboard the fruiter or some steamer," Frank again wrote.

But the man shook his head.

"It is Sea Cove or nothing," said Inza. "And he would be glad, I think, to have it nothing."

"Sea Cove it is, then," Frank agreed.

But the promise was productive of no immediate good. There was no breeze, and, as the _Sarah Jane_ was on the shallow banks, far out of the route of the steamers, there was nothing to do but to cultivate patience and wait. At Frank's urging, Peleg set a signal from the masthead, but it drew no vessel near them.

The Sloc.u.ms seemed glad that they were not to be called on to sail at once for land, and they proceeded to get out long hand-lines and fish over the sides of the sloop. Wherever they went they were followed by their dog, that limped from the blows Bart had given it. The dog would not make friends with the newcomers, but showed its teeth in a threatening way whenever Bart or Frank came near. Finally Merriwell and his friends also engaged in the fishing to kill time, and with considerable success. Thus the day wore wearily along until well into the afternoon.

"A breeze!" Frank gleefully exclaimed at last, holding up a hand. "The wind is coming! I feel that if this old boat doesn't get a move on soon, I shall have to jump overboard and swim ash.o.r.e."

"Well, I should hope you would take me on your back!" Inza observed, her voice thrilled with the thought that the long-expected breeze was actually coming. "I'm as frantic as any one can be to put foot on land and learn what has happened to our friends and to father!"

The Sloc.u.ms were ready to go home now, and as the breeze rapidly increased in strength and gave evidence of having come to stay, they speedily got the _Sarah Jane_ under way, with the help of Frank and Bart, and stood off for the Jersey sh.o.r.e. Frank was now perfectly willing that they should run to Sea Cove direct, for a little thought and some questions put to the Sloc.u.ms had shown him that he could reach New York from there by wire, and by rail from a point near-by, and he could take a little time to investigate the Barney Mulloy affair.

CHAPTER XXV.

THE GHOST OF BARNEY MULLOY.

"Another calm!" Bart growled, in disgust. Night was approaching, and the _Sarah Jane_ lay becalmed a mile from sh.o.r.e and nearly ten miles from Sea Cove. The sh.o.r.e, high and sandy, was plainly visible, with pretty cottages among some trees a short distance back from the edge of the water. The Sloc.u.ms had a good gla.s.s, which brought all this out with much distinctness.

"If we could just draw the land near enough with that gla.s.s to jump ash.o.r.e!" Inza sighed.

"I've a plan almost as good," said Frank.

This plan was to have the Sloc.u.ms set them ash.o.r.e in the dory. By a little questioning in writing, they learned from the fishermen that the group of cottages was Glen Springs, and that there was a telegraph-office there and a daily visit by a small steamer from New York, but no railway. This increased their anxiety to be set ash.o.r.e at Glen Springs, for by putting themselves in telegraphic communication with New York they could ascertain without delay of the fate of the _Merry Seas_ and of her pa.s.sengers.

For a small financial consideration the Sloc.u.ms were willing to put Merriwell and his friends ash.o.r.e in the dory; which was done by Peleg, who pulled a good, strong stroke, and sent the clumsy boat through the water at a surprising rate of speed.

"Attack the telegraph-office first," Inza suggested. A telegram to New York brought this answer:

"_Merry Seas_ towed in considerably injured. Missing are Frank Merriwell, Bart Hodge, Inza Burrage. Other pa.s.sengers landed safely. Bernard Burrage at Hotel Imperial."

Bart threw up his cap. Merriwell was writing another message, directed to Bernard Burrage, a.s.suring him of the safety of Inza and asking that this fact and the fact that he and Bart were also safe be communicated at once to their friends at the hotel and elsewhere.

"That will fix things up all right," he remarked, as the operator began to click off the message. "Of course, we can't know all the particulars until later; but it is enough to know that none of our friends are lost, and to be able to let them know that we are all right."

"You bet!" Bart cried. "This is great! I was mighty anxious, I tell you."

"And I was simply crazy!" Inza exclaimed.

The relief to their feelings was so great that the hardships of their recent experience seemed to be at once forgotten, and they became almost happy. They could not be quite happy, for the news of the murder of Barney Mulloy still cast its shadow.

"When does the next boat leave for New York?" Frank asked of the operator.

"To-morrow noon."

"We can drive through to Sea Cove?"

"Yes."

"And when does a train leave Sea Cove?"

"To-morrow at six-forty-five and ten-thirty."

As they were very tired, it was decided, therefore, that they would remain in Glen Springs until early the next morning, when they would drive to Sea Cove, make inquiries there about Barney, and take the ten-thirty train. The hotel at Glen Springs was small, but it looked clean and inviting.

"What do you know about the murder of a young Irishman named Barney Mulloy, by tramps near Sea Cove, day before yesterday?" Merry inquired.

"Only what the papers said," was the operator's answer.

"And no one else in the village can tell us?"

"I think not."

The hotel was in the suburbs, having a view of the sea, and was really a summer hotel more than anything else. It had very few guests as yet.

From it a number of messages were sent to New York and received from there by our friends that evening--messages from Elsie and Mr. Burrage, and from other members of the party that had been on the _Merry Seas_.

Though fairly tired out by his exhausting experiences, from which the long hours on the fishing-sloop had not enabled him to recuperate, Frank Merriwell was not able to sleep until a late hour. His thoughts were of Barney Mulloy. In memory he traveled the round of the Fardale days. The death of Mulloy in that terrible manner had upset him more than he had realized. He had not felt it so much during his exciting experiences and while weighted down with anxiety concerning the fate of the _Merry Seas_.

"I just can't sleep!" he muttered, seating himself at last by a window and looking out toward the sea, along a greensward on which the moonlight fell lovingly. "Poor Barney! Perhaps I ought to have gone on to Sea Cove and begun my investigations at once. But Inza was so tired.

She has held up bravely, dear girl, through it all, but this evening she looked ready to drop. I felt that we ought not to go on until she was rested. She will sleep well now, since she knows that her father is safe."

Something dark moved among the shadows, and a familiar form approached.

Merriwell started up with a low cry:

"Barney Mulloy!"

He saw the young Irishman as plainly as he had ever seen him. The face, though, was white and bloodless. The ghostly figure moved with a heavy step, coming straight up the walk toward the building. Frank sat rooted to his chair. In the shadow of the piazza the figure seemed to turn, and was then lost to view. Merriwell threw up the window.

"Barney!" he softly called. "Barney--Barney Mulloy!"