I was then three miles from Helena, with the Father of Waters between, and no means of transportation across. I immediately commenced a search for some means of crossing. After spending several hours in search of a boat, I found a Dutchman, who owned an old leaky dug-out, which was very small and extremely unsafe for even one person to cross in. I concluded, however, that if I could buy it, I would make an attempt. The Dutchman asked me ten dollars for it, and could not be induced to take any thing less. I took it, at last, and paid him ten dollars in Confederate money.
I embarked in it and undertook to cross. The water came in on me rapidly, and by the time I had reached the sand-bar at the foot of Island 60, my frail bark was so full of water that I was in imminent danger of going down.
I landed on the bar, and drew my dug-out up on the sand and emptied out the water. I had still all of two miles further to go, without any intervening place on which to land, and before re-embarking it was necessary to contrive some way to stop the leaks.
Nine years previous to that time I had been engaged in chopping steamboat wood on that very island. Two winters I had chopped wood there; consequently, I was no stranger to the locality.
About a quarter of a mile from where I landed, near an old wood-chopper's shanty, I found an old shirt; with that I stopped some of the worst leaks, which, having accomplished, I re-embarked on my perilous voyage. I kept my bark to the north of the middle bar, and ran into the Sterling chute, and then landed at Helena, near the foot of Main street.
The moment my dug-out touched the shore, two guards stood ready to capture me, and accosted me with:
"Halloo, old fellow! what's the news on the other side of the river?"
"The news is favorable," I replied.
"Well, I reckon we'll have to take you to the Provost-marshal," said one of the guards.
"Boys, I am a soldier, and I want you to take me to the General in command of the post."