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āļĒāļīāļ āļāļĨāļē sg "I neber spoke noffin but the truf, Massa Ossifer." As the soldier did not offer to come into the cabin, Mr. Pennant had come out of his hiding-place, and had heard all that was said by the soldier, even while he was in concealment. "Pardon me, Mr. Passford, but were you not sick when you came on board of the Vernon last evening?" asked the commander, with something like a frown upon his brow as the situation became more bewildering. Neither of the two disloyal officers of the Bronx was an infant, and each struggled like a brave man against the force that attacked them. Mr. Flint had fallen upon Mr. Galvinne from behind, and had thrown him down at the first onslaught. He fought like a tiger, but with the aid of Christy and two of the men from the 167 waist, he was subdued, and Christy had a strap ready to confine his hands behind him. Then he was drawn over to the rail and made fast to a belaying pin.