He could hear the creaking of the oars and the men talking, but they
turned again suddenly and rowed up the stream. Again, his fate had hung
on a chance impulse. He drifted slowly on until the town and the bluffs
sank in the darkness. Then he drew himself upon his plank and swam,
doubling his speed. He knew that some of the Union gunboats lay not
far below, and, when he rounded a curve, he saw a light in the stream,
but near the shore.
He approached cautiously, knowing that the men on the vessel would be on
guard against secret attack, and presently he discerned the outlines of a
sidewheel steamer, converted into a warship and bearing guns. He dropped
down by the side of his plank until he was quite close, and then, raising
himself upon it again, he shouted with all his voice: "Ship ahoy!"
He did not know whether that was the customary method of hailing on the
Mississippi, but it was a memory from his nautical reading, and so he
shouted a second and yet a third time at the top of his voice: "Ship
ahoy!" Figures bearing rifles appeared at the side, and a rough voice
demanded in language highly unparliamentary who was there and what he,
she or it wanted.
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