The gunboats had command of the river, however, below Vicksburg, and the ironclads belonging to the squadron of Commodore Porter had run the gauntlet of the heavy batteries at that place. During the summer, the fleet inflicted severe injury upon the rebels at various points; and all the efforts of the latter to regain possession of the river were unavailing. The Arkansas, which had forced a passage through the Union fleet at Vicksburg, was destroyed, Grand Gulf bombarded, and the enemy terribly punished at Baton Rouge. In the midst of such events as these, Jack Somers passed the season. The Middy was ordered to watch the banks of the river, to protect the transports which conveyed troops and stores to the fleet and the army, and generally to annoy the enemy as opportunity was presented. At one time she narrowly avoided a broadside from the Arkansas; and, at another, escaped by superior running from the Webb and Music,--the two consorts of the rebel ironclad. Later in the season, when the river began to rise, the Middy was ordered to make a reconnoissance up the Red River; and she started upon the perilous duty. This river had been the hiding-place for rebel gunboats and cotton-steamers; and the Middy had not proceeded many miles before she was attacked by a battery of light-artillery, which she repulsed without difficulty, and proceeded on her way. “I don’t think we shall make a very long trip in this direction,” said Mr. Deane, the pilot. “I suppose we have only come up to take a look, and find out what there is here,” replied Jack, who was at the wheel. “There’s a steamer round that bend,” added the pilot. “I see her smoke-stacks.” “There’s a chance for a prize, then. Very likely she is a rebel gunboat,--one of the cotton-clads.” “Well, we shall soon find out.” He had hardly uttered the words before a shot from a concealed battery struck the wheel-house, tearing the roof completely off, and scattering the splinters in every direction. “That’s a close shave,” said Jack. “Are you hurt, Mr. Deane?” “Not at all,” replied he, shaking off the pine-wood which had fallen upon him. “But I shouldn’t like to try it over again.” “Two shots never go in the same place. We are safe for the rest of the day.” The order was given by the captain to stop and back her; but, before the Middy could get out of range, half a dozen more shot fell unpleasantly near to her. The guns in the fort were heavy, long-range pieces; and it would be madness for the little steamer to attempt to go any further. She therefore put about, and commenced her return trip. She had proceeded but a few miles toward the Mississippi, when a white flag was discovered on the shore, around which were gathered some forty or fifty men. They hailed the steamer, and asked to be taken off. The Middy’s wheels were stopped, and Captain Bankhead desired to know who and what they were. “We are all Union men,” replied the spokesman of the party; “and want to get out of this region.”