At first, approaching me, bow on, I could perceive but little of its dimensions, nor gain clear view of the decks, but when it veered slightly these were revealed, and I had a glimpse of a few figures grouped forward, the great wheel astern splashing the water, and between a long row of windows reflecting the glare of the early sun.

Even as I gazed at this vision a flag crept up the slender staff at the bow, and reaching the top rippled out in the crisp breeze.

A moment later I deciphered the lettering across the white front of the pilot house, _Adventurer, of Memphis_.
Indifferent at that moment as to where the approaching boat might be bound, or my reception on board; desirous only of immediate escape from my unfortunate predicament, I managed to remove my sodden coat, and furiously wave it in the air as a signal.

At first there was no response, no evidence that I had even been seen; then slowly, deliberately, the steamer changed its course, and came straight up the river, struggling against the full strength of the current.

I could see a man step from out the pilot house onto the upper forward deck, lean out over the rail, and speak to the others below, pointing toward me across the water.