The light of a ship's lantern was thrown directly on his face, and the same voice ordered men to take a small boat and get him.
When Dick stepped upon the deck of the steamer, water streaming from his clothes, several men looked at him curiously.

One in a dingy blue uniform he believed to be the owner of the rough voice.

But his face was not rough.
"Who are you ?" asked the man.
"Lieutenant Richard Mason of Colonel Winchester's regiment in the army of General Grant, sent several days ago with a message to the fleet, but driven by Confederate scouts and skirmishers into Vicksburg, where he lay hidden, seeking a chance of escape." "And he found it to-night, coming down the river like a big catfish." "He did, sir.

He could find no other way, and he arrived on the useful board which is now floating away on the current." "What proof have you that you are what you say." "That I saw you before you saw me and hailed you." "It's not enough." "Then here is the message that I was to have delivered to the commander of the fleet.

It's pretty wet, but I think you can make it out." He drew the dispatch from the inside pocket of his waistcoat.