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"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?"
āļ§āļīāļāļĩ āđāļĨāđāļ āļāļē āļŠāļī āđāļ "I propose to appoint him executive officer of the Bronx." "In what direction is the head of the steamer pointed, Mr. Pennant?" he asked as he joined the lieutenant. "But he did not." "You think that method would suit you better than the usual one of delivering orders verbally," said Christy, laughing as much at the coolness as at the impudence of his companion. "I have one in my stateroom; but it is altogether too small for you," replied the commander, glancing in the gloom of the night at the stalwart form of the third lieutenant, lacking not more than an inch of six feet, and his weight could not have been less than one hundred and eighty. "We will see what can be done in the morning." "He bears your name," said Mr. Pennant. "I must give up now, I fear," replied Christy feebly; and then he fainted.