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"I don't know exactly where we are now, Captain Passford," said the officer of the expedition.

การเดิมพันที่ตรงกันโดยไม่มีการเดิมพันฟรี "Ten feet!" shouted the man at the lead. "This will never do, Passford," said the tyrannical officer. As the names were called the men passed over to the starboard side, with their bags in their hands, for there was evidently to be no delay in making the transfer. But it was a full hour before Captain Battleton and Corny returned from the flag-ship. The prisoner on the forecastle thought his cousin looked very complacent, and his return indicated that his plot had not miscarried, and that the flag-officer had not challenged the identity of the future commander of the Bronx. The third lieutenant sprang forward to obey the order, and Christy followed him at a more moderate pace, consistent with his dignity as the officer highest in rank on board. It was not so much a question of dignity, however, with him as it was the intention to preserve his self-possession. A light had been reported on the starboard bow; but Christy had no more means of knowing what it meant than any other person on deck. It suggested a blockade runner, a battery, or a house near the shore where he did not expect to find one. "Ensign Frederick Jones," answered Corny, with some hesitation.