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āļāļĩāđāļāđāļ āļāļāļĨ āļŠāļĩāđ āđāļāļĩāļĒāļ "If you are, I am sorry that you are unable to prove your claim. I have only one officer on board as a passenger, for the reason that I had only 96 one spare stateroom. There is no place for you in the ward room, and it does not appear that you are an officer." Christy looked at his cool and impudent visitor, whose declaration was to the effect that he intended to take possession of the Bronx in compensation for the loss of the Floridian. It looked as though he intended to capture the gunboat now fully officered, and manned by forty-six seaman; and so far as the commander could judge, he intended to do it single-handed. "He still complains that his head and his bones ache, so that I cannot say he is improving," replied Dr. Connelly. "Are we to understand that one of these officers is the double of the other?" asked the first lieutenant, who seemed to be disposed to take in the situation as a pleasantry of the commander. As he spoke, Boxie dropped in his place at the wheel, and Vincent grasped the spokes. The blood was streaming down the face of the old man, and he did not move after he fell. Two sailors bore him below; but the surgeon promptly declared that he was dead.