"I hope you have not committed any rash act, Mr. Passford," said Dr. Connelly as the party passed through the ward room. "I do not stand on mere forms, Dr. Connelly; but if you continue to call me simply 'mister,' I shall understand from it that you do not recognize me as the rightful commander of the Bronx," replied Christy, as he invited the surgeon with a gesture to enter the captain's cabin. "I beg your pardon, Captain Passford; I used the title of 'mister' from habit, and not as meaning anything," replied the surgeon. "I was forced by the evidence, and quite as much by the lack of evidence, to concur with Captain Battleton in his decision." "I find no fault with you on that account, doctor," added Christy. "You made no protest to the flag-officer, but suddenly disappeared. When I went to my stateroom in the evening, your cousin was in command, and had sailed to execute the orders given him. You can judge of my astonishment when I learned just now that the captain and his officers were prisoners," the surgeon explained. "I do not propose to submit to another investigation by you, or any one but the flag-officer; but for your information I am willing to give you the facts," said Christy with dignity, of which he had a full supply whenever it was needed. "As long as the officers in charge of the Bronx continued to obey the orders of the commodore to proceed to the eastward, I did nothing; but when they headed the steamer to the westward, which they did as soon as it was dark, I understood very well that they were disobeying their orders, and intended to run the Bronx into Pensacola Bay, and deliver her to the Confederate authorities. Then I carried out my plan and captured the vessel." The surgeon was satisfied with this evidence. CHAPTER XVII THE SECOND AND THIRD LIEUTENANTS The surgeon went on deck with Christy, where he was presented in due form to Mr. Flint, though he had been introduced to him before in his former position as second lieutenant. The commander went forward to the bridge and pilot-house, and consulting the log slate, found that the last entry gave seventy-eight knots from the station. But it was foggy, as Mr. Galvinne had predicted that it would be, and the quartermaster conning the wheel said it was as "dark as a stack of black cats." Nothing could be seen in any direction, and the commander decided that it was not prudent to proceed any farther. The leadsman was ordered to sound, as the screw was stopped, and he reported sixteen fathoms with the deep-sea lead. Christy ordered the quartermaster to go ahead again, and keep the hand-line going all the time. Mr. Flint came forward, and took his place on the bridge, where the officer of the deck was usually stationed on board of the Bronx.