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"His name is Galvinne, and he was second lieutenant of the Vernon; but he is a Confederate. I think he is to be the real commander of the Bronx if they succeed in getting her into Pensacola," added Christy.
āļ§āļīāđāļāļĢāļēāļ°āļŦāđ āļāļāļĨ āļāļĢāļĩāđāļĄāļĩāļĒāļĢāđ āļĨāļĩāļ āļāļąāļāļāļĪāļĐ āļāļĢāļļāđāļāļāļĩāđ "Of course you cannot expect me to betray the confidence of the commodore; that would not be kind or friendly on your part, Captain Flanger, for you can see that this is a delicate matter," said Christy, halting in front of the table. "How are you going to get to the entrance of the bay in a fog?" inquired Corny. Christy handed him the appointment just made, and the steward danced about like a madman. He 365 had expected nothing for his meritorious service, and he found himself in a position of trust and responsibility. He expressed his gratitude in the most earnest language, and without using a single objectionable phrase, for his education was better than his habit in the use of speech. "Corny on board of this steamer!" exclaimed the father. "In irons too!" "South-west," said Mr. Flint, after the port watch had been dismissed, leaving the starboard with Mr. Camden as watch officer on deck. "I thought it probable that we should be sent to Appalachicola after the information the Russian gave us."