"The doctor says I am still fit for duty." "Captain Passford!" exclaimed Michael Bornhoff, as he heard the name; and the third lieutenant passed on to take a look at the prisoners.
"That is my name," added Christy, smiling at the earnestness of the skipper.
"That is a bad name for this child," said the octoroon, shaking his head.

"Are you the son of Colonel Passford ?" "I am not; but I am his nephew," replied the commander, willing to be perfectly frank with him.
"Bless the Lord that you are his nephew and not his son!" exclaimed Michael fervently, as he raised his eyes towards the sky, which was beginning to be visible through the fog.

"I have heard about you, for I was to pilot a vessel out of Cedar Keys when you came up there in command of the boats.

Colonel Passford was over there, and he saw you on board of the Havana." "Then we understand each other, Mr.Bornhoff," added Christy.
"Perfectly, Captain Passford; and I would trust you with my freedom, which is the dearest thing on earth to me.

But don't call me 'mister,' or you will make me forget that I am a nigger," said the skipper, laughing in his delight to find that he was in good and safe hands.
"Captain Flanger called me Mike always, and that is a good enough name for me." "Very well, Mike; you are a free man on board of this ship." "I ought to be, for I am a whiter man than Captain Flanger." "Now tell me what you know about that expedition on board of the Magnolia," said Christy more earnestly.