Galvinne was a prisoner by my side on board of
the flag-ship, and told me all about it when he was releasing my right
hand from the bracelet," replied Captain Flanger.
"Then I am to do duty as a figure-head, am I?" laughed Christy.
"Precisely; and you are a better-looking one than your cousin. But
excuse me for changing the subject of the conversation, for I am losing
time. I see by the telltale over our heads that the Bronx is headed to
the south-west, which is doubtless the course you were ordered to take
by the commodore."
"The telltale is honest, and tells no lies," replied Christy.
"Where are you bound, Captain Passford?" asked Flanger, in a careless
and indifferent manner, as he looked about the cabin.
"I don't know."
"Sealed orders?"
"You must draw your own inferences, Captain Flanger."
"It won't take a six-mule team to draw that one," added the
privateersman, rather sourly for the first time. "Of course I understood
that it would not be advisable for the commodore to let it be known
exactly where the steamer is bound, and that you have sealed orders.
I shall have to trouble you, Captain Passford, to produce the envelope."
As he spoke Captain Flanger toyed with the revolver in his right hand
as if he intended that the weapon should produce its proper impression
on the mind, and especially upon the nerves, of the commander, who
had continued to walk up and down in front of the table at which his
dangerous associate was seated, occasionally pausing when a point was
made on either side.
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