“The American minister will fit us out with them. I expect to find a letter of credit in St. Petersburg, and that will prove that I am an American.”
“Let us go on board of the steamer and ascertain where she is going,” continued Sanford, as he led the way across the plank, which had been extended from the deck to the stone pier.
The boys went upon the hurricane deck, where they had seen an officer who looked as though he might be the captain.
“Do you go to St. Petersburg, captain?” asked the coxswain.
“No; we return to London, touching only at Copenhagen,” replied the officer.
“That’s too bad!” exclaimed Stockwell.
“So it is,” said a tall man, who had followed the runaways up the steps from the lower deck. “But you are not going to St. Petersburg without the rest of us—are you?”
Sanford was startled, and turning sharp around, saw Peaks, who had come out of the cabin as the boys stepped on board. He had followed them to the hurricane deck, and suspecting that something was wrong, he had waited till the coxswain’s question betrayed their intention.
“No, we are not going to St. Petersburg; we are waiting for the ship,” replied Sanford, recovering his self-possession in an instant.
“O, you are? All right, then. But the last I heard of you was, that you were all on your way to Copenhagen to join the ship,” added the boatswain.