This morning presents a scene of terror and wildest
grandeur. The wrecked steamer has not broken up, but has settled down in the
sand, the sea breaking over her, and her rigging is full of men. Boats that
have been sent to her assistance are returning, having been unable to render
any. We learn from the returning boats that she is the City of New York, loaded
with stores. Another tug, with Gen. Burnside and a crew of picked men, has just
gone to their assistance, and it is hoped will be able to take them off. The
general is not one to see his men perish, and make no effort to rescue them. I
reckon our friends at home, when they hear of the loss of this boat, will
confound it with our own, and will experience the greatest anxiety until they
get our letters, or get righted through the papers. The tug returned this
afternoon, bringing off the officers and crew of the wrecked steamer, who
report that she is breaking up, and will soon go to pieces.
AT THE MERCY OF THE
WIND AND WAVES.
The wind is still blowing a gale. Many of our boats and
vessels which have arrived are parting their cables and dragging their anchors,
are being driven ashore, or sinking or fouling with each other. The saloon and
upper works of our boat are stove in from gunboats and schooners fouling with
us. One of our anchor cables has parted, and the engine is slowly working,
helping the other one. Many of our vessels are still outside, and fears are
entertained that some of them will be lost.
Capt. Clark says no boat can get in here today without the
most skilful pilot, and then at great risk of being lost. The gunboat Zouave,
with companies D and H of our regiment aboard, is in a sinking condition. Tugs
are alongside of her, and the boys are scratching for their lives to get aboard
of them. This is the kind of soldiering that makes the boys think of home and
of their mothers. I cannot help laughing just a little when a boat or schooner
fouls with us, and the timbers and planks begin to crack, to see the boys come
out of their bunks, their eyes, sticking out of their heads, and rush up stairs
to see what the matter is. Well, it is not strange that these young boys should
feel a little nervous, as it takes a man of pretty strong nerve to keep his
fears down. We are here and have got to make the best of it. If we are to be
lost, all our fears will avail us nothing; we must take things coolly, trusting
in Providence, Mr. Mulligan and the good old steamer for safety.
SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the
25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 21-2
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