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āļāļīāļ āļāļāļĨ āļ§āļąāļ āļāļĩāđ "How are you going to get to the entrance of the bay in a fog?" inquired Corny. When he had finished his morning meal, he proceeded to study his chart again. He had never been to the westward of the mouths of the Mississippi; but he had a chart of the entrance to Barataria Bay. He examined it with the greatest care, and made himself familiar with the bearings and distances. In about an hour after he left the deck, a messenger came to the door of the cabin to inform him that the South West Pass was in sight, bearing due north. "Good-morning, Uncle Job," replied Mike, taking the hand of the aged colored person. "How is your health?" "Yes; but you will get four or five fathoms almost up to the beaches. When I was here, the Bellevite was anchored outside, and we went gunning and fishing in St. Andrew's Bay. The bay is about thirty miles long; but it is as crooked as a ram's horn, and there is no town on it, though there are some scattered houses," added Christy. "We shot fat ducks, and caught plenty of red snappers and pompana there." "That seems to me to be a correct deduction," added Christy. Seating himself on the quarter-deck, he sent for Michael Bornhoff, who presently reported to him. This man had proved himself to be entirely faithful and reliable; and Christy had no doubts in regard to his loyalty, for his race guaranteed that. "Bonnydale!" repeated the officer, after using his handkerchief, and thus improving his utterance of the word.