WE are nearly out of
sight of land. Wild ducks and geese cover the water. The sun is just coming up,
and seems to me I never saw such a lovely morning. Besides the ducks and geese
on the water, the air is full of them, some alighting on the water and others
rising from it. They are so tame they only get out of the way of the boat, and
if shooting was allowed, hundreds could be shot from where I stand. I am sore
and stiff from my run to catch the boat, but I am thankful to be here and take
in these new sights on this glorious morning. Chaplain Parker is on board and
is pointing out places and vessels, and helping us to enjoy it all.
11 a. m. We are
sailing over the spot where the Monitor and Merrimac fought. An eye-witness who
is on board has been giving a vivid description of it, to which I listened with
the deepest interest.
Noon. We have landed
at Newport News; so they call it, but there are only a few shanties in sight,
and beside each one is a huge pile of oyster shells. The boys are here, having
been brought off from the Arago, which lies off shore. Oysters are plenty and
cheap, and I am full of them, the best I ever tasted, fresh from the water, and
so large many of them make two good mouthfuls. The Monitor, which saved the day
when the Merrimac came out of the James River, lies near by, and the wrecks of
the Cumberland and Congress which were sunk, show above the water. The Arago
lies just outside and at 2 P. M. we go on board. The only white men I have seen
are soldiers. The negroes and their shanties are all I can see of Newport News.
SOURCE:
Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 61-2
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