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āļ‹āļ·āđ‰āļ­ āļŦāļ§āļĒ āđ„āļĄāđˆ āļ­āļąāđ‰āļ™ Captain Battleton returned the pressure as heartily as it had been given, and departed from the gunboat. The commander gave the order to the first lieutenant to get under way; and the fasts were cast off from the flag-ship. The Bronx backed away from her, came about, and was ready to proceed on her voyage to the destination as yet unknown on board of her. "I am not so sure of that." "I dol't walt any Yalkee surgeod at work od be," protested Captain Flanger, whose speech was badly affected by the injury to his nasal organ, or by the pressure he applied to it with his hand. "That is bad grammar," said the commander, laughing, for he was in an exceedingly pleasant humor, as may well be supposed. "You know what is right, and you must not talk like a contraband." The little gunboat had certainly done a great deal of mischief to the Confederate interests, for she had captured two valuable vessels intended for the southern navy, to say nothing of half a dozen others loaded with cotton, and ready to sail. From the Confederate point of view, it was exceedingly desirable that she should be prevented from doing any further injury to the maritime interests of the South. But it seemed almost incredible that Corny Passford should be employed to bring about her capture by stratagem. His cousin was not a sailor; at least, he had not been one the last time he had met him, and it was hardly possible that he had learned seamanship, navigation, and naval tactics in so short a time, and so far as Christy knew, with little practical experience. "Farce! Do you cod this a farce?" demanded the wounded man indignantly. "You have shot off by dose!" "I have precisely the same papers," added Christy, with as much assurance as his cousin.

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