"I guess that New Haven boatman was a prophet, after all." The _Merry Seas_ was a steamer running on a somewhat irregular schedule to New Haven and New London, and back to the great metropolis by the sea route along the ocean side of Long Island, touching at one or two Long Island points.
Merriwell's friends had decided on a steamer voyage to New York and back as a change from the usual work and athletics at Yale.

Not that they were tired of either.

But nothing of signal importance was on the program to detain them in New Haven, and they were away, therefore, for this short trip by boat.
The ordinary Sound route between New Haven and New York was familiar ground to every member of the party, and something new was desired.
Hence they had taken the _Merry Seas_, which had steamed to New London, and out to sea between Block Island and Montauk Point, and had then laid her course down the Long Island coast for New York harbor.
Inza laughed at Bink's lugubrious declaration.

Gamp was laughing, too.
"If we get stuck in a fog, we can have Joe Gamp yell a few times for us.
That will do for a fog-horn." "Then the _Merry Seas_ will have fits, sure enough!" said Bink.
Gamp looked serious.
"Well, honest, now, that dud-dud-don't sus-sound so funny to mum-me as it dud-does to you.

Owned a cuc-cuc-carf once, that was pup-prancing raound in the med-der pup-pup-pasture, and I gug-got so tickled that I just sus-set daown and hollered.