doorway of the hut, and shouted after me as I
went:

"If it's the Mohawk, give Captain M'Causland's
compliments, and say I'd be obliged to
the skipper to give you a berth aft. Abe
Hopkins knows me a few."

The Mohawk it was, and Captain Abimalech
Hopkins received me with tolerable graciousness
in consequence of my mention of his friend's
name. He was a tall, raw-boned New
Englander, one of those Cape Cod men, about whom
there seems to be a sort of salt-water atmosphere,
and indeed he was a thorough sailor. He was
rough and shrewd, having been boatswain of a
frigate in the United States Navy, and having
received promotion to command a river-going
gunboat when the demand for skilled officers
began to exceed the supply. The Mohawk was
a true war-vessel, however, armed with two very
heavy pivot-guns, and protected as to her bows
by some thin plates of iron. She had an armed
crew, and a strong guard of marines, and was
deep laden with powder, caps, clothing, and
various stores medical and military, which she
had taken in at Columbus, and which were to
be delivered at New Orleans. The voyage down
stream was by no means secure, in spite of the
exertions of the Federals to keep the navigation
clear.

Independent of the fortified places in Southern
hands, the banks swarmed with guerillas, and
vessels passing down were so continually fired
at, that it was usual for whole flotillas of flat
boats and lighters to remain in some safe spot,
awaiting convoy. As it depended on the
discretion of the commanders of the Federal
gunboats to give or refuse the desired protection,
and as valuable cargoes were constantly exposed
to damage or detention for lack of escort,
considerable bribes were often paid to the captains,
under the various euphuisms of poundage,
salvage, and premium. And the Mississippi station
was reckoned, on that account, as only less
profitable than the duty of blockading Charleston.

Captain Hopkins made no particular secret
of his own transactions in that line, and he
naively complained to me, as the steamer
headed down the yellow river, of the ill fortune
that had this time attended him. He had a few
thousand dollars on freight, he said, but not a
red cent's worth of dry goods or provisions for
the New Orleans market, while, as for cotton,
the most gainful article of commerce, he
conceived that not a pound more could be brought
in, all available stores having either been carried
inland, or burned, to save it from capture by
"them pesky guerillas," for whom the old seaman
entertained a rooted abhorrence. As regarded
myself, I had no cause to complain of my
treatment, as a cabin passage was allotted me,
and I was allowed the run of the boat on giving
my parole not to attempt escape.

"Mind, Captain Hopkins," said I, half
seriously, "I only promise not to run away at the
stopping places down river. I by no means
mean to pledge myself to remain a prisoner,
rescue or no rescue, so if the Confederates take,
the gunboat, I hold myself free to go where I
please."

To which Captain Hopkins grimly rejoined,
that if such a thing should occur, I was
welcome to "make tracks," but that I need not
build many hopes on so frail a foundation. The
vessel, he added, would run past Vicksburg in
the night, so as to prevent any chance of being
sunk by the fire of the hostile batteries, and
as for guerillas, he should like to see them try
to meddle with Uncle Sam's property under
his charge. As he brought his broad hand
down with a sounding slap upon the huge
Parrott gun that was mounted amidships, and
looked proudly at the trim neatness of the well-
cared-for steamer, I could not but own that my
chances of release in the manner hinted at were
iniinitesimally small.

As the captain had anticipated, we ran past
Vicksburg under cloud of night, and thus
escaped any unwelcome attentions from the
Confederate batteries, and the greater part of our
onward course lay through a district for the
most part in Federal occupation. We saw, as
we skirted the left bank of the river, the
frequent flash of arms, and crowded together on
the deck to watch the progress of the long
straggling columns of blue-coated infantry, the
clouds of dust raised by the passage of the
cavalry and guns, and the innumerable array of
white tilted waggons that crawled in the rear.
At Natchez, where a strong garrison had been
posted under shelter of some earthworks, just
as we were starting, after taking in fresh fuel,
we were hailed from a canoe which a couple of
negro boatmen paddled towards us, and a tall
man, in a sort of nondescript uniform, with
shoulder-straps and a narrow gold edging, came
clambering up our side-ladder, and asked for the
captain of the Mohawk. In spite of his
semimilitary garb, the new comer, who had a
broadbrimmed hat, and a cigar between his lips,
looked like anything but a soldier, and by the
pen behind his car I conjectured him to belong
to one of the civil departments of the army.

A word or two from the stranger appeared to
produce a talismanic effect upon our commander,
and after a brief conference in the hitter's cabin,
the two worthies came on deck again, evidently
on very good terms. The tall man was introduced
to the lieutenants and midshipmen, and
also to the marine officer and myself, as Dr.
Amulius Cook, storekeeper in the United States
army, and one who was to be our shipmate for
the remainder of the voyage. And as the canoe
slowly made its way back to shore, and the
Mohawk resumed her course down stream, Dr.
Amulius, or, as he chose to abbreviate his name,
Dr. 'Muly Cook, who was extremely frank and
communicative, did me the favour to converse
a good deal with myself.

"Your skipper's a rough specimen; wood with
the bark on," said the doctor, with even more
than the usual drawl and nasal twang that marks
the genuine New Englander," but he's clear
grit, and a real American. I say, weren't you