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"Is there any officer on board with whom you have served?"
āļāļĩāđāļāđāļ āđāļ āļĨ āđāļāđ āļ āļāļāļĨ "Do you know where we are bound, Mike?" asked Christy. "I don't quite understand this matter," said the surgeon. "What are you doing, Mr. Passford?" "What good will that do?" demanded Christy. "My cousin has made out his case before the captain of the Vernon." "But he did not." It was now all as clear to Christy as though he had observed the proceedings of the conspirators, and taken notes of all they had done. The purpose of all these operations was quite as obvious as the details of the scheme. Either the Vernon or the Bronx was to be captured, perhaps both, for of course Christy could not determine in what manner the mischief was to be accomplished. Prisoner of war as he was, he never felt burdened with a greater responsibility than when he realized the actual situation. The Russian was sent to the boat to await the return of the lieutenant; but he was instructed not to open his mouth to his shipmates in regard to what had been done on the island. Job found a way to get into the big house, and conducted the officer to the dispensary, where he had so often gone for remedies for his ailments. He found what he wanted, and then he felt reasonably certain that he should make a success of his professional visit to the soldier. He took several small 330 bottles of medicines in addition to the particular one upon which he depended. "My name is Ralph Pennant; I have a sea-going 119 name, and I suppose that is the reason why I went to sea," replied the seaman, with a good-natured laugh. "I have been the mate of a steamer, but I could not get any better position than that of able seaman, and I wanted to be in this stir-up."