“There is something on the stern, but it’s too far off yet for me to be sure,” she replied.
“The raft is behaving beautifully,” Brandon declared, “and we shall be near enough presently for you to be sure of what you do see.”
Milly put down the glass and knelt by Swivel a moment, to place his head more comfortably. Then she went back to the instrument again.
Fifteen minutes passed before she uttered a word, while Brandon watched her face with eager interest. Finally she passed him the glass and seized the steering oar herself, although she said never a word.
With hands that trembled slightly Brandon placed the instrument to his eye and ranged it upon the stern of the derelict. Long and earnestly did he examine the lettering upon it, and then closed the glass with a snap.
“The Silver Swan—thank God!” he said.
“Oh, I’m so glad, for your sake, Don!” exclaimed Milly, tears of happiness shining in her eyes. “You’ll get your father’s diamonds and be rich.”
“Riches on a wreck won’t do us much good,” returned Don grimly. “I’d rather be a pauper ashore.”
“Ah, but somebody will come very quickly now to take us off,” she said confidently.
“Perhaps. But, did you ever think, that perhaps somebody has been before us?”