"Caught again!" exclaimed Captain Lonley, stamping violently on the deck in his disgust at his misfortune, and it was the third time that Christy had thrown him "out of a job."
"The way of the transgressor is hard, Captain Lonley," added the commander of the expedition.
"Transgressor, sir!" ejaculated the captain of the Havana. "What do you mean by that, Mr. Passford?"
"Well, captain, you are in arms against the best government that the good God ever permitted to exist for eighty odd years; and that is the greatest transgression of which one can be guilty in a patriotic sense."
"I hold no allegiance to that government."
"So much the worse for you, Captain Lonley; but we will not talk politics. Do you surrender?"
"This is not an armed steamer, and I have no force to resist; I am compelled to surrender," replied the captain as he glanced at the cutlasses of the men from the Bronx.
"That is a correct, though not a cheerful view of the question on your part. I am very happy to relieve you from any further care of the Havana, and you may retire to your cabin, where I shall have the honor to wait upon you later."
"One word, Mr. Passford, if you please," said Captain Lonley, taking Christy by the arm and leading him away from the rest of the boarding party. "This steamer and the cotton with which she is loaded are the property of your uncle, Homer Passford."
"Indeed?" was all that Christy thought it necessary to say in reply.