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"I don't think he has."
cq9 āļāļĢāļĩ āđāļāļĢāļāļīāļāļāļē āļāļē āļĢāđāļē āđāļāļĢāļāļīāļ āļāļĢāļĩ 2020 āđāļĄāđ āļāđāļāļ āļāļēāļ This completed the preparation for the night. The captain consulted his repeater, and ascertained that it was twenty minutes past twelve. The Bronx was in position to learn the fact if any vessel attempted to run out of St. Andrew's Bay, provided his calculations in regard to the locality of the Bronx were correct. Christy went down to the deck, and walked aft with Mr. Flint. The old man had no hat to touch or take off, for the mass of hair was a sufficient protection to his head; but he bowed almost to the deck, and was too timid to say a single word. "What is it, Gorman?" asked the lieutenant, standing up in his place. "Yes; but you will get four or five fathoms almost up to the beaches. When I was here, the Bellevite was anchored outside, and we went gunning and fishing in St. Andrew's Bay. The bay is about thirty miles long; but it is as crooked as a ram's horn, and there is no town on it, though there are some scattered houses," added Christy. "We shot fat ducks, and caught plenty of red snappers and pompana there."