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"I won't do so any more, Captain Passford," protested the steward, showing his ivory, though he was not a very black man, and the contrast was not as great as in many instances.

āđ€āļ„āļĢāļ”āļīāļ• āļŸāļĢāļĩ āđ„āļĄāđˆ āļ•āđ‰āļ­āļ‡ āļĢāļ­ 228 "We were going to Appalachicola after a while, where we were to pilot out some vessels loaded with cotton." "Certainly not; and if my simple affirmation is not enough, I could prove that I slept in my father's house at Bonnydale last night, took my breakfast there this morning, and was in the city of New York at ten o'clock this forenoon," answered Christy, in the best of humor. "Then you are not dangerously wounded," added Christy. "I was afraid it had gone through your head." The little gunboat had certainly done a great deal of mischief to the Confederate interests, for she had captured two valuable vessels intended for the southern navy, to say nothing of half a dozen others loaded with cotton, and ready to sail. From the Confederate point of view, it was exceedingly desirable that she should be prevented from doing any further injury to the maritime interests of the South. But it seemed almost incredible that Corny Passford should be employed to bring about her capture by stratagem. His cousin was not a sailor; at least, he had not been one the last time he had met him, and it was hardly possible that he had learned seamanship, navigation, and naval tactics in so short a time, and so far as Christy knew, with little practical experience. "All right; I think we understand the situation up here," said Mr. Pennant, as he led the way in the direction from which they had come.

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