dition.
"Mr. Camden will take charge of the second cutter," added Christy.
While the crews were making the boats ready, and Mr. Camden was
selecting the extra men for them, as he was instructed to do, Christy
gave the executive officer a brief account of the capture of the sloop,
and an epitome of the information he had obtained from Bornhoff.
"What am I to do, Captain Passford?" asked Mike, who was watching the
proceedings on deck with the most intense interest. "I want to ship in
the Yankee navy as a pilot, for I know this coast from the Mississippi
to Key West."
"Are you a sailor?" asked Christy.
"I went to sea for eleven years, and Captain Flanger, father and son,
put my wages in their pockets."
"You cannot ship as a pilot, only as an able seaman, if you know how to
hand, reef, and steer, and how to make knots and splices."
"I know all that, captain, like I know my name."
"Then I will look upon you as an able seaman until you are formally
enlisted. Mr. Flint, this man is Michael Bornhoff; he is an able seaman
and a pilot in these waters. I think you had better take him with you,
for he is fully informed in regard to the Floridian, which you are to
bring out. Let him have pistols and a cutlass," said Christy.
In ten minutes more the expedition left the ship, and soon disappeared
in the low bank of fog that still hung over the shore. Each of the
cutters had been manned by twelve men besides the officer, and Mike was
an extra hand with the first lieutenant. What remained of the port watch
were on duty, and the rest of the men were dismissed.
Mr. Pennant had the deck, and the commander walked back and forth,
considering the information he had obtained from the skipper of the
Magnolia, of the correctness of which he had no doubt, for Mike
impressed him as a truthful man, and, like all the contrabands, his
interest was all on the side of the Union, which meant freedom to them.
For the first time he began to feel not quite at home in his new
position. He had been compelled to fight for it; but he absolutely
wished that he were the first or second lieutenant rather than the
commander of the vessel.
The traditions of the navy, and of all navies, forbade him to leave his
ship to engage in any enterprise connected with his mission. He had to
take all the responsibility of failure, while he could not take an
active part on such occasions as the present. He had the glory of being
a commander, and of whate
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