A Union Family.
After two days' sail, the Ticonderoga arrived at Phillips's Landing, where
she had been ordered to take her station; for the Admiral had received
information that the rebel General Marmaduke was preparing to cross the
river, with his forces, at that place.
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."
"I believe you're lying to me, you old rascal," exclaimed Frank.
"No, young master," answered the negro; "every word I have told you is
gospel truth. You see, my daughter waits on Miss Annie, and I find out
every thing."
"You say Miss Phillips has a sweetheart in the army?"
"Yes; and he was here to see her not long ago. He is a lieutenant, and has
gone up to Conway's Point, with two cannons, to fire into steamers. His
name is Miller; and you would know him from a long scar on his left cheek.
Wasn't Miss Annie on board your boat two days ago?"
"Yes, I believe so."
"Well, she stole a book."
"A book!" repeated Frank. "What kind of a book?"
"I don't know the name of it. It was a small book, and had lead fastened
to the covers."
"By gracious!" exclaimed Frank, "that was the captain's signal-book."
"Yes; she told my daughter that she took it out of the captain's room."
Frank did not stop to buy any marketing, but hastily catching up his
basket, he hurried back to the vessel.
"Orderly," he exclaimed, as he approached the marine who always stood at
the cabin door, "ask the captain if I may see him."
"He hasn't got up yet, sir."
"That makes no difference. Tell him that I have something particular to
say to him."
The orderly went into the cabin, and, in a few moments, returned, and
said:
"The captain says walk in, sir."
"Captain," said Frank, after he had closed the door carefully behind him,
"have you lost your signal-book?"
"No, I guess not;" answered the captain, in a tone of surprise. "What
makes you ask?"
"I heard, a few moments ago, that it had been stolen from you."
"I have not had occasion to use it for two or three weeks," answered the
captain, getting out of bed; "but I know exactly where I put it;" and he
opened a drawer in the sideboard, and commenced to overhaul the contents.
"Set me down for a landlubber," he exclaimed, at length, "if it hasn't
been stolen. It isn't here, at any rate."
Frank then related the conversation which had taken place between himself
and the negro, and the captain continued:
"Well, I always thought those folks had some object in view, or they would
not have been so friendly. I can't reproach myself for neglecting my duty,
for I watched them pretty closely."
"I wonder how that girl knew that the signal-book was in that drawer,"
said Frank.
"I suppose she must have seen me put it in there," said the captain. "Now,
the question is, now to go to work to recover it. It will do no good to
search the house."
"If you will leave the matter in my hands, sir," said Frank, "I will agree
to recover the signal-book, and capture that mail-bag which they intend to
send across the river in a few days."
"Well," said the captain, "it was you who first knew that the signal-book
was gone, and I believe you ought to have the honor of sifting the matter
to the bottom. Find out all you can, and call on me for any assistance you
may need."
Frank immediately returned to the plantation, and started toward the
quarters, in quest of the negro who had given him the information, whom he
found chopping wood in front of one of the cabins.
"See here, uncle," he exclaimed, "I want you to keep me posted on all that
goes on here on the plantation; and tell your daughter to find out when
that rebel lieutenant is coming here again, and when they intend to send
that mail across the river."
"I will do my best, young master," answered the negro. "But you won't tell
any one what I have said to you? I shall be killed, sure, if you do"
"No, uncle, I shan't betray you; so don't be afraid," said Frank; and,
after purchasing some articles which they needed in the mess, he returned
on board the boat.
A week passed on, but nothing further was developed. The officers of the
vessel still continued to visit the plantation, and Mr. Phillips and his
family always seemed glad to see them, and evidently did all in their
power to make their visits agreeable.
As soon as Frank had time to think the matter over, he wondered why he had
not known that something suspicious was going on. He remembered now that
Mr. Phillips had often questioned him closely concerning the manner in
which the gun-boats were stationed along the river, and the distance they
were apart. And he thought of other questions which had been asked him by
the family, which, although they did not seem strange at the time, now
seemed suspicious. At first he had been inclined to doubt the negro's
story; but his doubts were soon removed by the appearance of a transport,
which was completely riddled with shot; and her captain reported that they
had been fired into by a battery of two guns, at Conway's Point. Frank
knew that it was the work of the rebel lieutenant, and he hoped that it
would soon be his fortune to meet him face to face.
One evening, just after supper, the negro appeared on the bank, with some
chickens in his hand, which was a signal to Frank that he had something to
communicate. He immediately set off alone, in a skiff. When he reached the
shore, the negro informed him that the rebel lieutenant was expected at the
plantation that evening, and that he would bring with him the mail, which
was to be carried across the river at midnight.
After paying the negro for his chickens, in order to deceive any one who
might be watching them, Frank returned to the vessel, and informed the
captain that, if he would give him twenty men, he would fulfill his
promise. He did not acquaint him with what he had learned, however, for
fear that the captain would send an officer with him, and thus rob him of
the laurels now almost within his grasp.
As soon as it was dark, Frank picked out the men he wished to accompany
him, and started off. His first care was to quietly surround the house,
after he had placed his men to his satisfaction, he removed his sword,
thrust a brace of revolvers into his pocket, and walked up and knocked at
the door. It was opened by the youngest of the girls, who started back and
turned pale when she saw the young officer; but instantly recovering her
presence of mind, she exclaimed:
"Good evening, Mr. Nelson; walk in. Allow me to introduce to you my
cousin, Mr. Williams," she continued, as they entered the parlor.
As she spoke, a tall, handsome young man rose from his seat, and made a
low bow. It was none other than Lieutenant Miller; for there was the scar
on his cheek, which had been described to him by the negro.
After returning the rebel's salutation, Frank seated himself on the sofa,
and said:
"I shall trouble you only a moment. I merely came here on a little matter
of business. I understand that there is a rebel mail to be carried across
the river, from this house, to-night."
The suddenness with which this announcement was made was astounding. Mrs.
Phillips appeared ready to faint; Annie turned very pale; and the
lieutenant raised his hand to his breast, as if about to draw a weapon.
"What do you mean, sir?" inquired Mr. Phillips, with well-feigned
surprise.
"I mean," answered Frank, "that, since we anchored opposite this house, we
have been associating with the worst kind of rebels. Put down your hand,
Lieutenant Miller! If I see you make that move again, I shall be obliged
to shoot you. You have professed to be Union people," continued Frank,
settling himself back in his seat, and coolly crossing his legs, "and have
been treated as such; you have, however, attempted to betray us, by
communicating such of our plans and movements as you could learn to the
rebels. But you have been discovered at last. You, gentlemen, will please
consider yourselves my prisoners. Miss Phillips, have the kindness to
produce that mail-bag, and the signal-book you took from the captain. If
you refuse, I shall be obliged to take you on board the ship, as a
prisoner."
The girl saw that there was no alternative, and she pulled from under the
sofa, where Frank sat, the mail-bag, which appeared to be well filled with
letters, and dispatched a servant to her room after the signal-book, which
was to have been sent across the river with the mail.
After Frank had relieved the lieutenant of his weapons, he called two of
his men into the house, and, after delivering the prisoners into their
charge, returned to the vessel.
That evening the captain examined the mail, and found several letters
which showed, beyond a doubt, that their prisoners were connected with the
rebel army; and they were, accordingly, sent to the Admiral, on the first
steamer that went up the river.
About two weeks afterward, the captain of the Ticonderoga received orders
to proceed with his vessel to Helena, and take command of an expedition
which was preparing to start down the Yazoo Pass. They found the fleet,
consisting of the Manhattan, six "tin-clads," and several transports,
loaded with troops, assembled in Moon Lake, which was about six miles from
the Mississippi River; and, on the 23d day of February, they entered the
pass, the Ticonderoga leading the way.
The west shore of Moon Lake was bounded by a swamp, through which ran the
pass, which was just wide enough to admit one good-sized vessel. It was
filled with trees, which stood so close together that it seemed impossible
to work a passage through them; and the men on deck were constantly in
danger of being killed by falling limbs. They advanced slowly, sometimes
making not more than four miles in a day; and it was almost two weeks
before they reached Coldwater River.