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āđāļ§āđāļ āļŠāļĨāđāļāļ jdb "One thing more, Captain Passford," continued the flag-officer; "the ship's steward of the Mercidita has been very sick for three weeks, and has applied for a sick-leave. I shall be obliged to transfer Mr. Nawood of the Bronx to his place." "You must excuse me, Captain Flanger, but I object to signing such an order," replied Christy, as he rose from his chair. "Where is your bag?" asked Mr. Flint, as Christy, the actual commander of the Bronx, passed him. "What are you doing with a valise?" "With their arms locked together behind them, they are not in condition to do any harm," added Mr. Flint. "Now, Dave, I have another commission for you to execute," continued Christy, as he tore out the 135 leaf on which he had written the names. "Not less than twenty-five of the crew of the Bronx came from New York in the Vernon. One of them is Ralph Pennant, and he is an intelligent man, and one that can be trusted. You will see him. Tell him the commander is an impostor. Do you know what an impostor is, Dave?" "De doctor! Be you a doctor, sar?"