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The lieutenant had covered his lantern, for he 320 did not wish to wake the other sleepers in the cabin, after the description the Russian had given of his man. Mike spoke in a low tone to him, and it did not take him long to make his toilet, for he slept just as he was clothed during the day. No one knew how old he was, but he was still brisk in his movements. The officer led the way to one of the deserted cabins at a considerable distance from the one occupied by Uncle Job.

āļ‚āđˆāļēāļ§ āļŸāļļāļ•āļšāļ­āļĨ āļ—āļąāđ‰āļ‡āļŦāļĄāļ” āļ§āļąāļ™ āļ™āļĩāđ‰ "Boddyvale? I never heard of the place before in my life, sir," answered the runaway servant. "No, sir; I belong to Captain Flanger: his father is dead, and left me to his son." "So far we do not disagree by the breadth of a hair. My cousin Corny was raised in the South, while I was raised in the North," continued the sick passenger. "He stole that officer's commission and other papers while he was sleeping in his own home," added Christy. "No, you don't," interposed Mr. Blowitt. "You are commanding a little gunboat, though you are only eighteen." "On deck, sir," reported Ralph, touching his cap to the commander, as Mr. Flint descended the steps to the ward room. "Well, Mr. Passford, are you all right?" asked the surgeon, as soon as he discovered Christy in the dim light of the place.

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