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"All your guns seem to be mounted outside," said the naval officer as he halted on the parade.

āđ€āļĨāđˆāļ™āļŠāļĨāđ‡āļ­āļ•āļ­āļ­āļ™āđ„āļĨāļ™āđŒāļ”āđ‰āļ§āļĒāđ€āļ‡āļīāļ™āļˆāļĢāļīāļ‡ As soon as the Bronx had lost her headway, the screw was stopped, and a drift lead was dropped into the water. A sharp lookout had been kept, 313 and some flickering lights had been reported. The weather had become cloudy since noon, but there was no fog and no wind. "Uncle Homer!" exclaimed Christy, extending his hand to him, which Colonel Passford, as he was called at home, though he was not in the Confederate army, warmly grasped; and the first smile that had been seen on his face played upon his lips. "You will let Mr. Pennant command this expedition, Mr. Flint," said Christy. "He will take the first cutter, with ten men, including Quartermaster Vincent and Bornhoff."

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