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Christy had looked into the ward room as he passed the door, for the captain's cabin was not provided with a separate companion-way, as is usual on men-of-war, for the space could not be spared in so small a vessel. All was still there, but two men stood near the door waiting for the signal to rush to the deck.

āļāļīāļˆāļāļĢāļĢāļĄ āļĢāļąāļš āđ€āļ„āļĢāļ”āļīāļ• āļŸāļĢāļĩ "What is your name, my man?" asked Christy, as he looked over the stalwart form of the skipper of the Magnolia. "No one thought you would hide in the captain's cabin." "It was not; for I had concealed myself on board when I realized what Galvinne was about, and, with the aid of the officers who knew me, captured the vessel. I am now in command of her, and I am likely to have a prize to assist in establishing my identity when I report to the flag-officer." "Don't you know me, Dave?" asked Christy, speaking out plainly so that the steward might recognize his voice. "Dave," called the captain. Christy had deposited his valise in a place where it was not likely to be seen unless a search was made for it. There was no one in the ward room to obstruct his advance to the captain's cabin. He had served as acting-commander of the vessel in a voyage from New York to the Gulf, and been the executive officer on board for a short term, and he was perfectly at home in every part of her. In the conspiracy on his last voyage in the Bronx, Pink Mulgrum had concealed himself under the berth in the captain's stateroom, where Dave, the cabin steward, had discovered him, though he might have remained there a month if his hiding-place had not been suspected.

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