They came to anchor in front of a large plantation, owned by the man after whom the place was named.  In a short time, a boat, rowed by two stout negroes, and which contained two ladies and a gentleman, came alongside.

The captain received them, as they came upon the quarter-deck, and the gentleman, after introducing himself as Mr. Phillips, and apologizing for the liberty they had taken in coming on board, asked if the captain could furnish them with some Northern papers.  They lived in an out-of-the-way place, he said, where boats seldom landed, for fear of the guerrillas, and they were entirely ignorant of what was going on.

The captain seemed much pleased with his visitors.  After complying with their request, he conducted them down into the cabin, where they passed an hour in conversation.  When they were about to take their departure, they invited the captain and his officers to call on them, and assured them that there were no rebels in the vicinity.

The captain was an old sailor, and had been in the service so long that he was inclined to be suspicious of any thing that looked like friendship on the part of a person living in an enemy’s country.  But, after calling on Mr. Phillips’s family a few times, without discovering any thing to confirm his suspicions, he allowed both officers and men to go ashore at all times; and soon quite an intimacy sprung up between them and the people of the plantation, and dinner parties and horseback rides were the order of the day.

Frank had been elected caterer of his mess, and as he was obliged to furnish provisions, he had a good excuse for being ashore most of his time.  He became a regular visitor at the plantation, and was soon well acquainted with each member of the family.  They all professed to be unconditional Union people, with the exception of the youngest daughter, who boldly stated that her sympathies were, and always had been, with the South; and she and Frank had many a long argument about the war.

Things went on thus for a considerable time, when, early one morning, as Frank was on his way to the plantation, to buy his marketing, a negro met him, as he was ascending the hill that led to the quarters, and said: 

“I’d like to speak just one word with you, young master.”

“Well, what is it, uncle?” said Frank; “talk away.”

“Let us move on, this way first, for I don’t want them to see us from the house.”

Frank followed the negro behind one of the cabins, and the latter continued: 

“I’m afraid you and all the officers on your boat will be captured one of these days.”

“What do you mean?” inquired Frank, in surprise, half inclined to think that the negro was crazy.

“I suppose you don’t know that my master and mistress, and all the white folks on the plantation, are rebels, do you?”

“No; and I don’t believe they are.”

“Yes, they are.  My master is a Major in the rebel army; and that Miss Annie you come to see every day has got a sweetheart in the army, and she tells him every thing you say.  Besides, they send a mail across the river, here, twice every month.  I took one across myself, night before last.”