d Mr. Flint.

"Barataria Bay makes a big hole in the State of Louisiana, and most of
it is shoal water. At the south of it is the Isle Grande Terre, on the
western end of which is a fort, which commands the entire channel,"
replied the captain.

"That's bad," added Mr. Flint, shaking his head.

"I have no idea of its strength; but I do not care to have the Bronx
knocked to pieces by the big guns of a fort. The bar of Barataria and
the shoal water of the entrance to the bay extend out about two miles
into the Gulf. At low water, two miles from the fort, we should bury our
keel in the mud. It looks just now as though we should have to put the
Bronx under the guns of the fort, or simply blockade the entrance to the
bay. That makes it look like a quiet time in these waters."

"Of course the Confederates on the lower Mississippi are using all their
resources to strengthen Fort Jackson and Fort St. Philip; and they can
make a better use of big guns and artillerymen than in defending an
opening like this one," replied Mr. Flint.

"This is not a cotton-growing region, but is given up to sugar raising,"
added Christy. "They have to bring the cotton a long distance in order
to ship it here."

"For these reasons, I do not believe this fort is of much account."

"Perhaps not; but I should not care to have the Bronx sunk by a
columbiad in the attempt to find out the strength of the fort."

"It is possible that the Russian knows something about this region,"
suggested Mr. Flint.

"I will have a talk with him," replied the commander, as he left the
bridge.

Seating himself on the quarter-deck, he sent for Michael Bornhoff, who
presently reported to him. This man had proved himself to be entirely
faithful and reliable; and Christy had no doubts in regard to his
loyalty, for his race guaranteed that.

"Do you know where we are bound, Mike?" asked Christy.

"I know what all the crew know, for word has been passed around that we
are bound to Barataria Bay," replied the Russian with a cheerful smile.

"Were you ever there, Mike?"

"Was I ever there, captain? I lived there a year!" exclaimed the
contraband. "I was in the fishing business at that time," he added with
a significant smile on his face.

"What do you mean by that?"

"We had the Magnolia over here then, and I used to go out fishing in her
about every night," chuckled Mike. "Sometimes I did not catch any fish,
and sometimes I caught five hundred boxes of Havana