Harry and Jack were among the loudest of the cheerers, as they realized that, for the present, at any rate, their wanderings in the wilds of Arkansas were at an end. They were weary with the almost unbroken ride of twenty-eight hours, covered with the dust that rose in clouds from the dry road, and suffering the pangs of hunger and thirst, but no worse in that respect than all those about them. But with all their weariness and hunger, and through all the dust that covered them, their hearts swelled with joy, and they shouted themselves hoarse over the sight of the great river of the West.
But now came a new difficulty. Helena had not been occupied by union troops, and there was no one there to welcome them. The gun-boat fleet had called there and agreed with the local authorities that the town should not be harmed as long as no outrages were perpetrated on passing steamboats. The agreement had been kept, and though several bands of bushwhackers had dropped in to see their friends, they had been restrained from making any attacks or otherwise disturbing the peace. The inhabitants were not particularly loyal toward the government, but they had heard the fate of several places where boats had been fired upon, and had sufficient influence to keep their bushwhacking friends quiet.
As the advance of General Washburne's cavalry entered the town, several men, who had been loitering in front of one of the stores, made haste to mount their horses and get away. A few shots were fired at them, but no harm was done, and no attempt was made to pursue them. In a little while the whole force of cavalry had reached the river bank, and the Mississippi was scanned up and down to discover a steamboat.
General Washburne hoped there would be a gun-boat with which he could communicate, but no gun-boat was in sight. Soon the smoke of a steamboat was seen below the town, around a bend of the river, and in due time she came in sight, slowly stemming the powerful current. It was an ordinary transport, quite incapable of defense, and the general quickly made up his mind to stop her by friendly means if he could, or by force if he must.
As the steamer came in front of Helena flags were waved again and again, but the boat paid no attention to them. Then a shot was fired across her bows to warn her to stop, but this had no effect; another shot followed, and then another, aimed like the first, so as not to harm the boat, but to make those on board believe that something serious would happen soon unless she came to a halt. Seeing there was no escape from the supposed rebels, the pilot headed the boat for the bank and ran in. A dozen or more soldiers were on her deck with their guns ready for business, but they soon perceived that resistance to such a force would be useless. They prepared to surrender and make the best of their misfortune. But before the gangplank had been run out one of the shrewdest of them observed that the formidable force was habited in the union uniform, though it was so sadly covered with dust that it could easily be mistaken for the confederate gray.
An officer who was among the passengers brought a field-glass to bear on the party on the bank. He was an old friend of Captain Winslow, the quartermaster of General Curtis's army, and was not long in making him out, in spite of the dust that covered him and his generally bedraggled appearance after his long ride. Holding aside his glass, he shouted:
“Is Captain Winslow there?”
“Here I am,” was the reply, “and here are the rest of us.”
“All right, pilot,” said the officer; “you're safe enough now. You're captured by our friends.”
In a few minutes the boat had been made fast to the shore, and General Washburne came on board accompanied by Captain Winslow, Captain Noble, of General Curtis's staff, and several other officers. There was a recognition of old friends and introductions all around. The new arrivals were treated to the best the steamer afforded, and the officer who had charge of the boat asked what they could do for the weary and dusty crowd.