Dave was a remarkably neat person, and he was always dusting the cabin and stateroom when he had nothing else to do.

He was sure that the rapping was caused by the steward's feather duster.
In a few minutes, when he had made the cabin tidy for the reception of "Massa Cap'n Passford," he transferred his labors to the stateroom.

He worked in the berth and all its surroundings, including the desk, which still contained the real commander's papers, and then gave his attention to the trunk beneath.
"Dave," said Christy, after he had obtained a view of the back of the steward's head which satisfied him that he was the right man.
"Mullygumps!" exclaimed Dave, as he suspended his labors on the trunk.
No doubt he was greatly surprised to hear his name, pronounced as though it came up through the deck, as he had abundant reason to be.
"Dave," repeated Christy, in a more decided tone after he had heard the voice of the steward.
"Is that you, Pink Mulgrum ?" demanded Dave.

"I give you the whole State of Alabama, but I thought we done rid of you long ago.

Who's there ?" "Don't you know me, Dave ?" asked Christy, speaking out plainly so that the steward might recognize his voice.
"Maggywogs! That sounds like Massa Christy's voice; but I done seen him on deck five or ten minutes ago." "No, you didn't, Dave; that was Corny," replied Christy.
"Gollywops! But he was in command of the Bronx, for I done seen Mr.
Flint hand it over to him.