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"Now, Uncle Job, I want you to answer some questions," Mr. Pennant began.

yingpla āđ€āļ„āļĢāļ”āļīāļ• āļŸāļĢāļĩ The deck was in charge of the second lieutenant, who was seeing that everything was put in order. But it might have been observed that he was more familiar with the men than was his habit. For the first time since he came on board, Corny went below to take a look at his quarters, Dave bearing his valise before him. At the same time Mr. Galvinne presented himself in the ward room to take possession of the stateroom of the first lieutenant, which was the farthest forward on the starboard side. It had been Christy's room during his service in the Gulf, though he had made himself at home in the captain's cabin when he was acting commander on the voyage from New York. "I thought you were somewhat changed in your looks when I saw you come on board of the Bronx, and then I felt that the greeting you gave me was rather stiff for an old comrade who had 137 passed some time with you in a Confederate prison," added Mr. Flint. "You do not use your left hand, captain; I hope you were not wounded in the affair this morning off St. Andrew's Bay." "In that case, probably Mike was with him, and he may be a useful man to us as a pilot," replied Christy. "The commodore says the Western Gulf squadron had no steamer that was suitable for this service, for there is only nine feet of water on the bar of Barataria at low water. For this reason he had been requested to send the Bronx, not only on account of her light draft, but of her speed." "Could you hear any slapping of a paddle wheel, or other noises that sound like a steamer?" asked Christy in the same low tone. "How do you find yourself, Corny?" asked the captain, turning to the berth.

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