Now and then small bands of Confederate skirmishers sent rifle shots from high points along the bank toward the fleet, but they did no damage and the ships steamed steadily on.
The third night out came, and again the young soldiers slept soundly, but the next morning, soon after breakfast, the whole fleet stopped in the middle of the river.

A thrill of excitement ran through the army when the news filtered from ship to ship that they were now in Tennessee, and that Fort Henry, which they were to attack, was just ahead.
Nevertheless, they seemed to be yet in the wilderness.

The Tennessee, in flood, spread its yellow waters through forest and undergrowth, and the chill gray sky still gave a uniform somber, gray tint to everything.
Bugles blew in the boats, and every soldier began to put himself and his weapons in order.

The command to make a landing had been given, and Commodore Foote was feeling about for a place.
Dick now realized the enormous advantage of supremacy upon the water.
Had the Confederates possessed armored ships to meet them, the landing of a great army under fire would be impossible, but now they chose their own time and went about it unvexed.
A place was found at last, a rude wharf was constructed hastily, and the fleet disgorged the army, boat by boat.

Vast quantities of stores and heavy cannon were also brought ashore.