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วิเคราะห์ บอล ล้ม โต๊ะ ทีเด็ด He was carried to his stateroom by his officers, and the doctor examined his last wound. He was 359 restored to consciousness, but he looked like death itself beneath the ruddy brown of his weather-beaten face. "Sea-sick! No, sir; I believe I never was sea-sick in my life." "It is evident from what we have heard, and from the documents submitted to me that one of these gentlemen is Lieutenant Christopher Passford," said Captain Battleton; "but we have no means of identifying the officer. In what vessels have you served, Mr. Passford?" "Dr. Connelly!" exclaimed Christy. The commander appeared to be less occupied at this moment than he had been before, and Christy 47 stepped forward to the quarter-deck, and politely saluted him. Captain Battleton was not less punctilious in his etiquette. He was a young man, though he was apparently six or seven years older than Christy. He was an ensign, and looked like a gentleman who was likely to give a good account of himself when he was called to more active duty than that of commanding a store ship. "Bonnydale sounds like a fancy name, such as any gentleman might give to his estate," continued Mr. Salisbury, smiling, as he repeated the phrases he had used before. "Is this the fact?"