"The commander of the ship a prisoner!" "That is exactly the situation, Dave.

Can you tell me what they are doing on deck ?" asked Christy, who began to feel more hopeful of the future.
"The Bronx is taking in provisions, stores, and ammunition.

They say the captain has his orders, but I don't know about that." "Can you tell me what position Mr.Flint has on board ?" "He's just what he was before, when you was on board; he is the second lieutenant, and we have a new man for first, I believe they call him Gallivan," replied Dave, who was intelligent enough to comprehend what he saw on deck.
"His name is Galvinne, and he was second lieutenant of the Vernon; but he is a Confederate.

I think he is to be the real commander of the Bronx if they succeed in getting her into Pensacola," added Christy.
"Into Pensacola!" exclaimed the steward, aghast at the remark.
"Of course my cousin Corny intends to hand the vessel over to the Confederate government." "Gollywompus! My old master will get me back then!" groaned Dave, who had been very happy in his new service and at Bonnydale where he had spent considerable of his time while Christy was waiting for the fitting out of the Bronx.

"I think I had better get on board of the flag-ship right off." "Don't do it, Dave, for I hope to save the vessel to the Union, and you can render me the most important service in this matter," added Christy.
"Then I stay for sure; I don't go back on you, Massa Christy," protested the steward warmly.
"Thank you, Dave." "There ain't no hole in this millstone for me," continued Dave, suddenly becoming very thoughtful.