Rescued from the River.
The boat was nearly full. After picking me up, it received on board two scalded men who were floating near, and whose groans were heart-rending.
We were deposited on the Mississippi shore, under guard of four or five soldiers in gray, and the yawl went back to receive the remainder. Among the saved I found Surgeon Davidson. He was unable to swim, but some one had carefully placed him upon a hay-bale. On reaching the shore, he sat down upon a stool, which he had rescued from the river, spread his overcoat upon his knee, and deposited his carpet-sack beside him. It was the first case I ever knew of a man so hopelessly shipwrecked, who saved all his baggage, and did not even wet his feet.
The boat soon returned. To my infinite relief, the first persons who sprang to the shore were "Junius" and Colburn. Sartorially they had been less fortunate than I. One had lost his coat, and the other was without shoes, stockings, coat, vest, or hat.
There, in the moonlight, guarded by Rebel bayonets, we counted the rescued, and found that just sixteen—less than half our number—were alive and unharmed. All the rest were killed, scalded, or wounded.
Some of the scalded were piteous spectacles. The raw flesh seemed almost ready to drop from their faces; and they ran hither and thither, half wild from excruciating pain.
None of the wounded were unable to walk, though one or two had broken arms. The most had received slight contusions, which a few days would heal.
The Killed, Wounded, and Missing.
The missing numbered eight or ten, not one of whom was ever heard of afterward. It was impossible to obtain any correct list of their names, as several of them were strangers to us and to each other; and no record had been made of the persons starting upon the expedition.
We were two miles below the city, whither the lieutenant of our guard now marched us.