“Oh, there’s not much doubt in our minds as to who she was. She was one we were ordered to destroy. The name on her bow was badly battered, but we could make out part of it.”
“Well, for heavens’ sake, what was it?” burst forth the wooden legged captain wildly. “Don’t beat ’round the bush any longer.”
The ensign began to grow as red as a peony. The old man’s manner of questioning ruffled his dignity sorely.
“To the best of my belief it was the brig Silver Swan, of Boston, U. S. A.,” he declared stiffly.
CHAPTER XXXVI
THE CASTAWAYS ON THE BRIG SUCCESS
To Milly and Brandon on board the water logged brig, it seemed as though the long night would never end. They crouched together over the body of poor Swivel, until his clasp relaxed from their hands and he sank into a deep sleep.
Brandon did not believe that the injured boy would ever awake from that unconsciousness; nevertheless, he made his way below to the cabin again and brought up an armful of blankets to add to his comfort.
He wrapped one about Milly, and she made him share it with her, when Swivel was more comfortable.
Thus sitting close together on the cold, wet deck, they conversed in whispers till dawn; Milly, at Don’s earnest solicitation, relating all that had occurred since the night he had escaped from the Success at Savannah.
It was rather a disconnected story, for the poor girl often broke into weeping at the memory of her father’s violent death. She had sincerely loved him, although he was a stern, rather morose man.