Dick’s eyes glistened.

“So you think, then,” he said, “that General Grant will push this campaign home, and that he’ll soon be where he can’t get instructions from General Halleck?”

“Looks that way to a man up a tree,” said Pennington slowly, and solemnly winking his left eye.

They were officer and private, but they were only lads together, and they talked freely with each other.  Dick, after a while, returned to his commanding officer, Colonel Winchester, but there was little to do, and he sat on the deck with him, looking out over the fleet, the transports, the floating batteries, the mortar boats, and the iron-clads.  He saw that the North, besides being vastly superior in numbers and resources, was the supreme master on the water through her equipment and the mechanical skill of her people.  The South had no advantage save the defensive, and the mighty generals of genius who appeared chiefly on her Virginia line.

Dick had inherited a thoughtful temperament from his famous ancestor, Paul Cotter, whose learning had appeared almost superhuman to the people of his time, and he was extremely sensitive to impressions.  His mind would register them with instant truth.  As he looked now upon this floating army he felt that the Union cause must win.  On land the Confederates might be invincible or almost so, but the waters of the rivers and the sea upheld the Union cause.

The fleet steamed on at an even pace.  Foote, the commodore who had daringly reconnoitered Fort Henry from a single gunboat in the Tennessee, managed everything with alertness and skill.  The transports were in the center of the stream.  The armed and armored vessels kept on the flanks.

The river, a vast yellow sheet, sometimes turning gray under the gray, wintry skies, seemed alone save for themselves.  Not a single canoe or skiff disturbed its surface.  Toward evening the flakes of snow came again, and the bitter wind blew once more from the Illinois prairies.  All the troops who were not under shelter were wrapped in blankets or overcoats.  Dick and the colonel, with the heavy coats over their uniforms, did not suffer.  Instead, they enjoyed the cold, crisp air, which filled their lungs and seemed to increase their power.

“When shall we reach the Tennessee?” asked Dick.

“You will probably wake up in the morning to find yourself some distance up that stream.”

“I’ve never seen the Tennessee.”

“Though not the equal of the Ohio, it would be called a giant river in many countries.  The whole fleet, if it wanted to do it, could go up it hundreds of miles.  Why, Dick, these boats can go clear down into Alabama, into the very heart of the Confederacy, into the very state at the capital of which Jefferson Davis was inaugurated President of the seceding states.”

“I was thinking of that some time ago,” said Dick.  “The water is with us.”