heir way down the creek, that
they had opportunity to exchange a word with each other. Mr. Watkins's
cutter led the way, Jonas occupying his old place in the bow, and
passing his instructions to the coxswain in a whisper. The sailors bent
to their work with a will, and the boats moved swiftly on their course;
but the muffled oars were dipped so carefully, and feathered so neatly,
that there was no sound heard save the slight swishing of the water
alongside. Feeling entirely satisfied with the way in which he had
carried out the instructions of his superior, Mr. Watkins settled back
on his elbow in the stern-sheets and addressed Marcy in low and guarded
tones.

"I remarked to one of my officers a short time ago that it must take
courage, and plenty of it, to be loyal in this country; and I told the
truth, did I not?" he whispered.

"One has to be more than brave to be true to his colors in this
section," replied Marcy. "He has to be deceitful. I can satisfy you of
that, if you think a few scraps of my personal history would be of
interest to you."

Mr. Watkins answered that nothing would suit him better than to hear,
from the lips of one who knew all about it, how the Union people, if
there were any in that country besides his own family, managed to live
among their rebel neighbors; and Marcy began and told his story, but not
quite so fully as the reader knows it. He did not have time to do that,
and besides he was too modest; but he easily brought his auditor to
believe that the arm he carried in a sling had not been injured while
its owner was fighting on the Confederate side, and also showed him that
he had more reason to stand in fear of Captain Beardsley than of any
other man in the settlement.

"What worries me just now is the fear that Beardsley will in some way
find out that you Yankees have taken me from my mother's house to help
your vessels through Croatan Sound, said Marcy, who little dreamed that
Captain Beardsley had been taken from his own bed for the same purpose,
and was at that very moment a prisoner in one of the boats that followed
astern. The night was so dark that Marcy could not have recognized the
man if he had looked straight at him; and if Beardsley had seen and
recognized Marcy, when the two squads came together and got into the
boats on the bank in front of his house, he had made no sign. And we may
add here that the privateer captain had not been treated by his captors
with the same kind