"I've got two sheets of writing paper across mine," declared Harry.

"You should drink a bottle of ginger ale to settle your stomach," put in
Frank.

"Just drank three bottles of ginger ale, and they've turned my stomach
wrong side out," gurgled the sick youth.

"You should allow yourself perfect relaxation, and not try to fight
against it," from Browning.

"Oh, I haven't allowed myself anything else but perfect relaxation,"
came from Harry. "You all make me tired!"

Then he staggered into the cabin and disappeared on his way back to the
stateroom.

Diamond and Browning followed, but Frank lingered behind.

Although he had kept the fact concealed, Merry was troubled with a
strange foreboding of coming disaster. In every way he tried to overcome
anything like superstition, but he remembered that, on many other
occasions, he had been warned of coming trouble by just such feelings.

"I'd like to know just what is going on upon this steamer," he muttered,
as he walked forward. "I feel as if something was wrong, and I shall not
be satisfied till I investigate."