"I have just informed you who under the canopy I am," replied Christy,
not pleased with the manner of the other. "To be a little more definite,
I am Captain Christopher Passford, commander of the United States
steamer Bronx, of which the Arran appears to be a prize."
"The captain!" exclaimed the fallen man. "You are nothing but a boy!"
"But I am old enough to try to be a gentleman. You are evidently old
enough to be my father, though I have no comments to make," added
Christy.
"I beg your pardon, Captain Passford," said the captain of the Arran,
attempting to rise from the deck, in which he was assisted by Christy
and by Mr. Baskirk, who had just come aft. "I beg your pardon, Captain
Passford, for I did not understand what you said at first, and I did not
suspect that you were the captain."
"I hope you are not seriously injured, sir," added Christy.
"I don't know how seriously, but I have a cut on the hip, for which I
exchanged one on the head, parrying the stroke so that it took me below
the belt."
"Have you a surgeon on board, Captain ---- I have not the pleasure of
knowing your name, sir."
"Captain Richfield, lieutenant in the Confederate Navy.
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