It was so dark in the creek that Frank could scarcely see his hand before him; but he knew pretty well who it was addressing him. Pulling up the creek, in obedience to the order, he came in sight of a boat lying close to the bank, in the shade of the bushes that hung out over the water. In this boat were seated three men, two of whom were holding in their hands several ropes that led to a dark object that lay in the water astern of the skiff.
"Here's the torpedo," said one of the men, as Frank came alongside, and as he spoke he passed the ropes over to the young officer. "Just drop silently down the river as far as you can without being discovered, and then cast off the torpedo, and let it float down on to the Trenton. We'll go up on the bank and watch the experiment."
"Gentlemen," said Frank, suddenly pulling a brace of revolvers from his pocket, "you are my prisoners."
As he spoke, the negroes threw down their oars and sprang into the skiff. Before the rebels could draw a weapon, they were powerless in the strong grasp of Frank's sable coadjutors. The prisoners were the colonel and major of whom the negro at the plantation had spoken. The third person in the boat was one of the Frenchman's slaves, who had rowed the boat down the creek for the rebels. He had jumped to his feet as if about to escape, but had been collared by one of Frank's negroes, and thrown into the bottom of the boat, where the fear of the revolvers kept him quiet.
"What's the meaning of all this?" asked the colonel, as he struggled furiously to free himself.
