Christy called out the skipper of the sloop, and walked into the
waist with him. The octoroon was a large man, of about the size of the
third lieutenant, and he could have made a good deal of mischief if he
had been so disposed.
"Bless the Lord that I am here at last!" exclaimed the skipper, as he
looked furtively about him.
Christy understood him perfectly.
CHAPTER XX
AN EXPEDITION TO ST. ANDREW'S BAY
"What is your name, my man?" asked Christy, as he looked over the
stalwart form of the skipper of the Magnolia.
"Michael Bornhoff," replied the prisoner.
"Are you a Russian?" asked the commander, inclined to laugh at this
singular name of one of the proscribed race.
"No, sir; but I was named after a Russian sailor Captain Flanger picked
up in Havana. I don't mean this Captain Flanger that was on board of the
Magnolia, but his father," replied the stout fellow.
"Are you a free man?"
"No, sir; I belong to Captain Flanger: his father is dead, and left me
to his son."
"Why did you bless the Lord that you were here at last?"
"Because I have been trying to get here for more than a year," replied
the contraband, after looking about him for a moment, and then dropping
his voice as though he feared Captain Flanger might hear what he said.
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