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?”