"Is it a government boat?"
"Ah reckon maybe; leastwise thar's a heap o' sojers aboard her—reg'lars Ah reckon, fer dey's all in uniform. But everybody aboard wan't sojers."
"You know the steamer?"
"Yas, sah. Ah's seed her afore dis down et Saint Louee. She uster run down de ribber—she's de John B. Glover. She ain't no great shakes ob a boat, sah."
His eyes, which had been eagerly following the movements of the craft, turned and glanced at me.
"Now dey's goin' fer ter cross over, sah, so's ter keep de channel. Ah don't reckon es how none o' dem men kin see back yere no more. Massa Kirby he wus aboard dat steamer, sah."
"Kirby! Are you sure about that, Sam?"
"'Course Ah's sure. Didn't Ah see him just as plain as Ah see you right now? He wus for-rad by de rail, near de pilot house, a watchin' dis whole shore like a hawk. Dat sure wus Massa Kirby all right, but dar wan't nobody else 'long wid him."
"But what could he be doing there on a troop boat?"
The negro scratched his head, momentarily puzzled by my question.