“You may both return to your duty,” added the principal.
Both were astonished at being let off so easily; but Mr. Lowington was satisfied that they spoke the truth, and had not intended to run away. The others were also ordered to attend to their duty, but with the intimation that their conduct would be investigated at the return of Sanford and Stockwell, who, with Ole, had left the party at Katherineholm.
The signal for sailing was flying on board of the Young America, and at seven o’clock the squadron was under way, continuing the voyage “up the Baltic.” No notice seemed to be taken of the absence of Sanford and Stockwell, but everybody believed that the principal knew what he was about. The wind was tolerably fresh from the west-south-west, and the squadron made rapid progress through the water, logging ten knots all day. The students watched with interest the villages on the coast of Denmark, with their sharp, red roofs, and the swarms of fishing-boats moored in front of them. The shores of Sweden were in sight all the time, and at three o’clock in the afternoon land was also seen on the starboard bow. But the masters, who were constantly watching the chart, were not at all astonished, though the seamen were.
“What land is that, Scott?” asked Laybold.
“That? Why, don’t you know?”
“I’m sure I don’t. I know Germany is over there somewhere, but I didn’t expect to run into it so near Sweden.”
“That’s Gabogginholm.”
“Is it in Germany?”
“No; it’s an island, at least a hundred and fifty miles from Germany. The Baltic is rather a big thing out here.”
“How do you remember those long names, Scott?”