CHAPTER XXXI
WHEREIN NUMBER THREE APPROACHES THE SUPPOSED VICINITY OF THE SILVER SWAN
“WE’LL be off at once,” Caleb Wetherbee declared, as soon as he had stepped upon the deck of the whaleback. “Go up to the cabin, Don, and tell the steward to fix you out with a bath and some clean clothes. You know which stateroom yours is.”
Gladly did Brandon avail himself of this opportunity, and while Caleb was personally seeing to the matter of getting under way, he indulged in the luxury of a bath and a full change of clothing.
Before he was presentable again, Number Three had steam up (the fires had only been banked), and was moving slowly away from Savannah.
“Quick connections on this trip, eh, lad?” Caleb said, rubbing his hands gleefully, as he entered the cabin and found Brandon “clothed and in his right mind” again, as the youth himself expressed it. “Three hours ago you were in the hold of the brig, wasn’t you? Now, let’s hear your yarn.”
Brandon complied with his request, giving fullest details of his incarceration in the hold of the Success.
“That ’ere is a mighty plucky girl,” was Caleb’s admiring comment when the tale was finished. “What d’ye say her name was?”
“Milly Frank; the cap’n is her father, and he owns the brig himself.”
“Frank—Frank,” repeated Caleb slowly. “That has a familiar sound.”
“It has to me, too,” said Brandon slowly. “I’ve been trying to think, ever since I met the girl, where I had heard her name and seen her face, too, for both seem familiar.”
“I have it!” suddenly exclaimed Caleb, smiting his thigh.
“Well?”
“Frank was the name of the chap as Adoniram’s sister married—the little one, ye know.”
“You’re right. And her name was Milly, too,” Brandon rejoined eagerly. “Bet you this was a daughter of hers. I thought her face looked familiar, and now I think of it, it was because she looked so much like the face of Milly Pepper—her picture hung in the room they gave me at Mr. Pepper’s.”
“’Twould tickle ’Doniram ’most to death to know he had a niece,” Caleb said.
“And Miss Frances, too. As soon as we find the Silver Swan we must look up the Success.... And that reminds me, Caleb. You say you’ve heard of the wreck again?”
The captain of the whaleback drew a telegram from his pocket and passed it over to his young second officer.
“That’s from ’Doniram. As I said, I got it this afternoon.”
This was the message:
Rio steamship Creole Prince arrived this a. m., reports Silver Swan as being sighted March 23rd, latitude 27:18, longitude 68:30.
“Still moving northeast, isn’t she?” Brandon said, handing back the yellow slip.
“In course.”
“And what was that you told me about the Kearsarge?”
“Here’s the evening paper,” responded Caleb, handing over a folded sheet. “There’s the item,” and he pointed with his stumpy forefinger to a marked passage which read as follows:
The Department has ordered the Kearsarge to leave the Chesapeake tomorrow on her trip to the West Indies. Her commander has received special orders to destroy several of the most dangerous derelicts which are at present infesting the coast below Hatteras, and especially off the Bermudas. The hull of the Hattie Marvin, floating bottom upwards north of Bermuda, and that of the Silver Swan, south of the same islands, both of which have been frequently reported of late and are exceedingly dangerous, will have the early attention of the midshipmen, who consider the excitement of blowing up derelicts a boon indeed.
“We have a good start of her,” Brandon declared with satisfaction. “It will be because we’re not smart if we can’t find the Silver Swan first.”
“Right, lad. An’ we will find her, too,” said Caleb hopefully.
“And about Swivel,” went on Don, changing the subject; “where is he?”
“He’s below with the men. Smart lad, he is, an’ I reckon we’ll make quite a man of him yet.”
“I must do something for him—if I get those diamonds,” Brandon added. “Now, Captain Wetherbee, with your permission I’ll turn in and get some sleep, for I haven’t slept decently for a week, I was so worried.”
At sunrise the whaleback had left the mouth of the Savannah river, and the shores were low down on the horizon behind them. At sunset, when Brandon finally arose from a long slumber, the steamer was alone on a vast extent of heaving, restless sea. The land had entirely disappeared.
Brandon took up his duties of second officer with enthusiasm. He had everything to learn—or about everything—but the work was right along the line of his strongest taste. He loved it, and therefore went about it earnestly, and learned rapidly.
Messrs. Coffin and Bolin assisted him in every way possible, for they were greatly attracted to the boy. Of course, Caleb was ever his faithful mentor and teacher, and Brandon soon fell into the ways and duties of the ship, and accredited himself very well, indeed.
The swift steamer kept on her southeasterly course for several days without incident of importance. No derelicts were sighted, and but few vessels.
Brandon was told, however, that coming down from New York the whaleback had sighted two wrecks, but the captain dared not delay to investigate them until the principal object of the voyage was accomplished. Caleb determined to let all other derelicts but the Silver Swan severely alone.
The whaleback passed the Bermudas low down on the sea line, and being well supplied with fuel kept on toward that portion of the ocean where the hull of the Silver Swan was supposed to be making her objectless voyage.
A sharp lookout was kept day and night, but it was not until after the Bermudas had faded from sight that anything other than passing sailing vessels and steamers were sighted. At night the whaleback ran very slowly, indeed, so that naught might escape her, but during the day she traveled at a high rate of speed.
Just before sunrise one morning Brandon was aroused by a commotion on deck. He leaped from his berth at once, and having been to sea long enough now to know how to dress quickly, was outside in less than a minute. Then he made out what the lookout on the top of the forward turret was shouting:
“Wreck—dead ahead, sir!”