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āđāļĄāļāļēāļĒ āđāļāđāļ āđāļāļāļĢāđ The surgeon went on deck with Christy, where he was presented in due form to Mr. Flint, though he had been introduced to him before in his former position as second lieutenant. The commander went forward to the bridge and pilot-house, and consulting the log slate, found that the last entry gave seventy-eight knots from the station. But it was foggy, as Mr. Galvinne had predicted that it would be, and the quartermaster conning the wheel said it was as "dark as a stack of black cats." Nothing could be seen in any direction, and the commander decided that it was not prudent to proceed any farther. "Whew! Then you are still the commander of the Bronx?" repeated Christy, laughing at his cousin's persistence. "You have done your work very promptly, Captain Passford," said the commodore with a smile.