seeking an interview with
Aleck Webster.

Marcy easily found a hiding-place for the night, and bright and early
the next morning set out to run the last of the blockade--the garrison
at Plymouth. This was accomplished without any trouble at all, the depth
of the water permitting Julius to hold so close in that Marcy could
throw his last Newbern paper ashore. The soldiers scrambled for it as if
it had been a piece of gold, and shouted for him to send off some more;
but Marcy could truthfully say that he had no more, the garrison at
Roanoke Island having got the others. The Northern papers were too
precious to be given to rebels. Those were to be saved for his mother.

In due time the _Fairy Belle_ reached the mouth of Seven Mile Creek, the
sails were hauled down, and Julius, with such slim aid as Marcy could
give him with one hand, began the work of towing her to her moorings. It
took them two hours to do this. When Marcy had seen her made fast to her
buoy he did not get out of the skiff, but sent Julius aboard the
schooner with instructions to put both the flags and the Northern papers
into his valise and hand it over the side. To his great surprise there
was not even a pickaninny on the bank to say, "Howdy, Marse Marcy?" and
he usually found them out in full force whenever he returned from his
sailing trips. Presently Julius got into the skiff to row him ashore,
and followed him to the house carrying the valise in his hand; but even
when they passed through the gate they did not see a person about the
premises, nor a dog, neither. Bose seemed to have "holed up" the same as
the rest. The doors and windows were wide open, but where were the house
servants that they were not singing at their work? Marcy did not know
what to make of it, and Julius gave it as his opinion that something
done been going wrong on the plantation.

"I believe you and Jack, between you, have frightened everybody off the
place," declared Marcy, little dreaming how near he came to the truth
when he said it. "But we'll soon know all about it, for here's mother."

He ran lightly up the steps to greet her as she appeared at the door,
but stopped short when he reached the gallery, for he saw that his
mother was as solemn as her surroundings. She tried to call a cheerful
smile to her face, but the effort was a sad failure.

"What in the world is the matter here?" demanded Marcy, as soon as he
could speak. "Have the hands all run away? Where is ever