ns of others were doing with the
groups of friends surrounding them.

It is at such a time as this that the feelings of friendship come out
the strongest.

Those who have taken passage, even on ever so large and staunch a ship,
seem like ants on a piece of driftwood, especially when the number of
shipwrecks is considered, and that among the first-class steamships; and
when friend parts with friend each understands the danger and
uncertainty of ever meeting again, and consequently the partings are
more pathetic, the handshakes more intense, embraces more fervent and
sensational than they would be under other circumstances.

But those embraces were exchanged, those earnest handshakes indulged in,
and everybody not going to Europe was ordered ashore. What partings,
what expectations!

The gang-plank is finally drawn ashore, the last lines loosened from
cleats and spiles, the engineer's bell rings, and the black hull of the
Baltic moves slowly from her pier.

Friends on the dock give cheers to those on board, and they, in return,
wave their handkerchiefs, kiss their hands--aye, from the cabin to the
steerage-passengers, and the forecastle (those not employed), all waft
their good-by greetings to those who are left behind, not knowing
whether they may be the more fortunate or not.

William Barnwell stood on the after-deck waving his hat to the friends
he had just parted with, and in spite of the dangers of the deep, of
which he never thought, wondering how long it would be before they would
meet again.

The secret police agent stood near the main-hatch, and watched him
narrowly.

Darkness was just closing in when the gallant steamer, with her nose
pointed to the southeast, passed the Sandy Hook light, and began to lay
her course towards England.

CHAPTER II.

THE SPY AND THE VICTIM.

The noble steamer Baltic plowed her way through the buffeting bosoms of
the blue Atlantic oceanward.

There was no land, in sight, there was no moon to light the waves, but
their own phosphorescence made the bounding billows visible to those who
came on deck. The sky above was clear, and the stars twinkled in the
blue above like diamonds in sapphire setting.

There were a goodly number of passengers on deck, both cabin and
steerage, and the hum of voices could be heard above the "clang-clang"
of the engines, the "whurr" of the propeller, and the long lines of foam
which shot away to larboard and starboard like streaks of silv