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āļāđāļēāļ āļāļĨ āļāļāļĨ āļāļĩāđāļāđāļ āļāļāļĨ āļāļļāļ "Dar's a steamer ober dar, an' I speck de Yankee 324 gumboat's gwine in dar to look arter dat steamer," said Uncle Job, chuckling as though he enjoyed the prospect of such an event. "Say, Massa Ossifer, is Massa Linkum in yore gumboat?" "Where does she lie now?" "He was by profession an actor in Mobile," added Corny. There were nine men left in the standing room, including the gentleman in black; they were coarse and rough-looking persons, and not one of them appeared to be the social peer of him who had condemned the firing upon the boat. The skipper remained at the tiller of the boat, and he looked as though he might have negro blood in his veins, though he was not black, and probably was an octoroon. He said nothing and did nothing, and had not used a musket when the others fired. He 216 behaved as though he intended to be entirely neutral. A few drops of negro blood in his veins was enough to condemn him to inferiority with the rude fellows on board of the sloop, though his complexion was lighter than that of any of his companions. "As usual, you are the hero of the adventure," replied the new first lieutenant, laughing. "But I must say it was the stupidest enterprise in which rational men ever engaged." "I cannot say as to that. When you go forward take a look at the prisoners, and report to me," added Christy, as Mr. Pennant went below. The lieutenant's first thought, after he realized the intention of the intruder, was that he was insane, for no man in his senses would think of accomplishing such a mad enterprise. His second idea was that he had mistaken the declaration of Captain Flanger, though he had certainly said that he meant to replace the Floridian with the Bronx, and the statement could hardly mean anything else.