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Updated: October 28, 2025
"But I think you did allow Mr. Dashington to put his hands on you," replied the captain. "Of course I did not know that he was a Southern gentleman when I snaked him out from under the berth," added the first officer. "I accept your apology," said the prisoner, coming down from his high horse with sudden energy; possibly because he felt that he had a mission on board of the steamer.
Every reader must be well acquainted with the characters of Mr Fiery and Mr Stiff, and Mrs Dashington, and her niece Miss Squeaker, and Colonel Blare who played the cornet, and Lieutenant Limp who sang tenor, and Dr Bassoon who roared bass, and Mrs Silky, who was all things to all men, besides being everything by turns and nothing long; and Lady Tower and Miss Gentle, and Mr Blurt and Miss Dumbbelle.
"I think we understand each other perfectly, and I don't wish to part with the shadow of a shadow between us. We have sailed together too long to be anything but the best of friends; and the fate of poor Dashington reminds me that we may never meet again in this world."
"Right in the broadside, abreast of the forward smokestack, sir! She has stopped her screw!" added the lookout. "Mr. Dashington, get the ship astern of the chase at once," continued the captain to the first lieutenant. This was the work of at least half an hour; but the Bellevite was running for the stern of the other steamer, as though she intended to cut her in two lengthwise.
"My first duty now will be to discuss our future movements with you; and when you have given out the course, we will attend to that matter." Captain Breaker called Mr. Joel Dashington, the first officer, to him, and gave him the course of the ship, as indicated by the owner.
Dashington, his first officer in the yacht, had been killed in action the year before, and now another of his intimate associates might soon be registered in the Valhalla of the nation's dead who had perished while fighting for the right. "We have sad news for you, Mr. Passford," said the commander, who seemed to be struggling with his emotions. "But I hope there is a chance for Mr.
So far as he is concerned, Christy, you may be my nephew instead of my son." Captain Passford led the way back to the deck, where they found the first officer evidently on the best of terms with his prisoner. But Mr. Dashington had been as discreet as a man could be, and Percy had not obtained a particle of information from him. "Now, Mr.
Percy, I am at your service," said the owner, when he reached the deck. "I think you said you had some business with me." "I have not the pleasure of knowing who or what you are, sir; and Mr. Dashington and my friend Mr. Pierson are all I know on board by name," added Percy.
Take you hands off of me!" shouted a voice that sounded rather familiar to Christy, as he and his father were still talking on the deck. "Let me alone! I am a Southern gentleman!" "I know you are," replied Mr. Dashington, as he appeared on deck, coming up from the companionway that led to the cabin and ward-room, holding by the collar a young man who was struggling to escape from his strong grasp.
What steamer is that in which you came, Paul?" "Our prize," replied Paul, with a smile as though he knew more than he was permitted to tell. "We had an awful fight to get her; but we got her all the same. Poor Mr. Dashington was badly wounded, and he may not get over it." "I am sorry to hear that. Where was the fight?" asked Christy. "About a hundred miles off the entrance to Mobile Bay.
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