THE REPORT OF THE SCOUT FROM THE SHORE Captain Pecklar had held out as long as it was possible for him to stand it, and he had only given up when his senses deserted him.

Major Pierson raised him from his position on the floor of the pilot-house, and, with Christy's assistance, bore him out into the air.
The wheel had gone over when the sick man could no longer hold it, and the tug was beginning to whirl about in an erratic manner, when the major rang the bell to stop the engine.

The captain was carried down to his room, and put into his berth, where one of the soldiers was detailed to act as his nurse.
"I haven't a man on board that knows the first thing about handling a steamboat; and I am not a bit wiser myself," said the major, when the sick man had been disposed of.

"Every man that is fit to be made into a soldier is sent to the army; and we have nothing but the lame, and the halt, and the blind to handle these boats." "It does not look like good policy," added Christy.
"Dallberg and his two men are soldiers, and they know no more about a steamboat than the rest of us," continued Major Pierson.

"It looks as though we should have to stay here till some other boat comes along; and that may be in three days or a week, for steamers have no occasion to come up here now." "Perhaps you may find a pilot among the men in that boat," suggested Christy, as he looked about the pilot-house, where the conversation took place.
The captain's glass was lying on a shelf in front of the wheel, and he took a look through it in order to find the boat.