ness and consideration that Marcy received at the
hands of Mr. Watkins. The men who surrounded his house, who followed him
to his hiding-place in the cellar and dragged him out by main strength,
knew that he was a rebel who hadn't the manhood to treat his prisoners
with any degree of kindness, and when Beardsley frantically resisted
them and yelled to his darkies to put the dogs on to the Yankees, the
boatswain's mate who held him said that, if he opened his mouth again in
that fashion, he would make what little light there was in the cellar
shine straight through the captive's head. This threat kept Beardsley
quiet, and he would not have dared to say anything to Marcy if he had
had the opportunity; but he had a good deal to say about him after he
got home.

"If you whip the rebels at Roanoke Island and let me go among my friends
again, that man will make me no end of trouble," said Marcy, in
conclusion. "He will declare that I went aboard of you of my own free
will, and did all I could to help you through the Sound. It will be
pretty near the truth, but all the same I don't want the story to get
wind in the settlement."

"He is about the meanest two-for-a-cent outfit that I ever heard of,"
said Mr. Watkins, in a tone of disgust. "I am glad you told me all this,
and will be sure to bear it in mind. But yours is not the only Union
family in this country, I hope?"

Oh, no, Marcy said in reply. There were many who professed to be Union,
and as many more who had little or nothing to say about it one way or
the other. The latter were the real Union people. Some of them held
secret meetings in the swamp, and had rid Marcy's mother of the presence
of one of her meanest and most dangerous enemies by coming to her
plantation one night and carrying away the overseer. They also captured
the four men who raided his mother's house with the intention of robbing
it, and had given Marcy to understand that they were keeping a watchful
eye upon him and would punish any one who persecuted him or his mother.
While he was telling this part of his story another faint call from a
far-away sentry gave to Mr. Watkins the gratifying intelligence that
Plymouth had once more been passed in safety. Why these convenient rear
water-ways were not more closely guarded by the Plymouth garrison it is
hard to tell. Perhaps it was because they thought the Yankees would not
venture to penetrate so far inland in small boats. They learned better
when Cushi