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"We have no surgeon, I believe, for Dr. Spokeley 173 is sick, and was to be sent home before I left in the Vixen for New York," added the commander, now restored to his own right on board.

rt āļŠāļĨāđ‡āļ­āļ• "Bonnydale!" repeated the officer, after using his handkerchief, and thus improving his utterance of the word. A third shot fell a little nearer the cutter; but it was evident enough that it was out of the reach of the feeble guns of the fort. The firing continued but a few minutes longer, for it was as plain to Lieutenant Fourchon as to Lieutenant 339 Pennant that the shots were harmless to the boat. The commander on shore could see by this time, if he had not before, that a gunboat was in the offing, and that he might soon have a better use for his powder than wasting it upon the boat. "He was not an officer, either of the navy or the army, but my cousin, Cornelius Passford, a soldier in the Confederate army." "I do not stand on mere forms, Dr. Connelly; but if you continue to call me simply 'mister,' I shall understand from it that you do not recognize me as the rightful commander of the Bronx," replied Christy, as he invited the surgeon with a gesture to enter the captain's cabin. "Wollywogs! You look like Massa Christy, for sure," exclaimed Dave, as he gave himself up 130 to a study of the face presented to him. "But the captain looks like Massa Christy too." "You can consult your own inclination as to that, my excellent friend. I shall not force you 285 to be treated by him," added Christy, "But I must suggest that this farce has been carried far enough in my cabin."

Regular price 120.00 āļŋ THB
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