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"You must excuse me, Captain Flanger, but I object to signing such an order," replied Christy, as he rose from his chair.
āļāđāļēāļ§ āļŠāļāļāļĢāđāļ āļāļđāļĨ "If you are the genuine Lieutenant Passford, in spite of the captain's decision, your cousin has told lies enough to-day to swamp a reprobate, to to say nothing of a Christian," added the surgeon, seating himself at the side of the berth. "What is your name, my man?" asked Christy, as he looked over the stalwart form of the skipper of the Magnolia. "If I remember rightly it is eighty-three sea miles from the entrance to Pensacola Bay. But 151 you do not run away with the idea that it is necessary for you, as the present commander of the Bronx, to visit this place?" asked the naval officer. "Your second lieutenant?" "You will be in command of a steamer, Christy, when you reach the Gulf. I hope you will not be rash, and try to do too much," said Mrs. Passford, as they rose from the table. In fact, Captain Flanger seemed to be more disturbed at the accident to his proboscis, than by the failure of his quixotic scheme to capture the Bronx. He was certainly a very good-looking man, and took good care of his person, as indicated by the care bestowed upon his hair and beard.