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