“Listen to this,” exclaimed Caleb, paying not the least attention to the messenger’s words, and he read the closely written page aloud:
“Dear Caleb—Swivel is going to make a break with this letter for me, although the Success sails, we understand, in an hour or two. He can tell you how I came aboard here, so I won’t stop to do that.
“What I want to say is, that Leroyd is aboard and that the brig will touch at Savannah for Mr. Pepper’s old clerk, Mr. Weeks, who is in the plot to find the Silver Swan, too. I shall leave her at Savannah if it is a possibility.
“If you get into Savannah while she is there, however, and I don’t appear, try to find some way of getting me out. I’m afraid of Leroyd—or, that is, I should be if he knew I was here.
“I’ve got enough to eat and drink to last me a long time and am comfortable. I can make another raid on the pantry, too, if I run short.
“Look out for Swivel; he’s a good fellow. He can tell you all that I would like to, if space and time did not forbid.
“Yours sincerely,
“Brandon Tarr.
“P. S. We’ll beat these scamps and get the Silver Swan yet.”
“Well, well!” commented Mr. Pepper, in amazement. “What will that boy do next?”
“The young rascal!” Caleb exclaimed in vexation. “What does he mean by cutting up such didoes as this? Aboard the very vessel the scoundrels have chartered, hey?”