Sunday, 6th.—I was awakened at one o’clock by the deck hands to make room to haul in the foot plank. I found myself drenched with filthy water, which had run under me as I slept. Quietly folding up my blanket I thought I would make no complaint, as I was near my journey’s end. About sunrise we reached the Balize, when all hands landed and erected the tents. After breakfast, with a number of others, I went to bathe in the sea. We let the breakers pass over our heads. They came with such force, that in my present reduced state, I found it difficult to stand up under them. Nor could I remain long in the water.
7th.—We are encamped on the banks of the Rio Grande, eight miles from the shipping, which is on the opposite side of this narrow neck of land.
8th.—A regiment of regulars landed to-day, on their way to the seat of war. No ship has appeared as yet to take us off.
9th.—This morning we had orders to start for Brazos Santiago, nine miles from this place. We had not proceeded far through the deep sand, when it became necessary for those who had the remnant of shoes, to pull them off, on account of the sand gathering in them, it being above the ankle at every step. Our feet became badly blistered by the heat and friction. Most gladly did I spread my blanket on the sand and enjoy a night of rest, after the fatigues of the day. We are not yet at the end of this uncomfortable journey. The shipping is in sight, and a short march in the morning will relieve the weary teams of their burdens.
10th.—We are all on board—artillery, baggage, and a motley crew of 250 men, with unshaved faces, ragged and dirty, but all in fine spirits, save a few poor fellows, whose thin visages show the ravages of disease and suffering.
11th.—The past has been a memorable night. For suffering I have not experienced its equal in all my peregrinations through life. In the brig, on board of which we took passage, there were 100 bunks (a slight elevation made of plank) for the soldiers to sleep on. When I got in mine, the crowd was so great and the air so oppressive, that I thought I would get out, and take a few pulls at the fresh atmosphere. Groping along in the dark, I endeavored to find some place of egress, but the whole gangway was strewed with men, and I was forced to return, amid a shower of blessings from the poor fellows, on whom I had the misfortune to tread. I laid the rest of the night in this hot place, more dead than alive. There was not the slightest air, and I was covered with a profuse perspiration.
12th.—An inspection of this brig, which was beautiful in its exterior, convinced me that it was a filthy place indeed; especially between decks. It was certainly worse than a hog-pen, for just above our bunks, there was a sty, in which were several of the real material. Two small fires were built for the soldiers to cook with, and so many crowded around them, all anxious to be served, that a long time elapsed before I could get my coffee. As a matter of convenience we were supplied with hard crackers and molasses. This diet only increased my disease, and I turned a longing eye on a large turtle which had been killed and was being served up for our officers, and the inmates of the cabin.
13th.—Our allowance of water was a coffee pot full twice a day for coffee, and a pint apiece for each man to drink; a hogshead had been drawn upon deck for our use. There is a guard kept throughout each day, over this hogshead of miserable water, not fit for horses to drink. It was with mingled feelings of admiration and sorrow that I saw our brave fellows, who had borne the fatigues of the march, and the strong blows of the battle, come humbly around the hogshead, which was a central point of attraction, and ask for a little cup of water, when they were almost famished, and could drink several pints were it allowed them. It is a gloomy Sabbath evening—nearly calm.
14th.—We are running S. E. by E., though the boat scarcely glides along, there being a calm. It seems that the water is becoming scarcer to-day. The Captain has directed that a quart only shall be given to each man for all purposes. And it is to last 24 hours. When this was announced one of the men muttered something which I did not hear, but which the Captain disliked; for he told us all, that if any one made another threat, he would blow his brains out as quick as he would shoot a rattlesnake. When this threat was heard the men all roared out in a hearty laugh. The Captain was of middle size, somewhat corpulent, swarthy in complexion, and blind in his right eye. He was rough in his manners, but talked very little, especially to us, privates. He is master of the brig and is employed by government to convey troops across the gulf. His name is Woodsides. This morning about a pint of water was issued to each man. Of course, no coffee is made. We mixed a little vinegar with some water, and with crackers and molasses, made out our supper. Two dolphins were caught by the sailors, and one of our men caught a young shark. Another turtle is served up for the cabin. It was so warm that I could not sleep in my bunk, but lay in the gangway, on my blanket. At midnight a steamer came alongside, and the Captain took on board several barrels of water. It was truly a blessing for us.
15th.—Coffee and fried shark for breakfast, but a dreadful sore mouth (which I fear is the scurvy) makes the eating a painful performance. Every indication of land was near. At 12 o’clock the Captain said we were 80 miles from the Balize. In anticipation of a storm, the sails were furled, but a little sprinkle of rain was all, and we again spread our canvass to the breeze. A sailor was sent aloft to see if the light house was in sight, and after remaining in the cross trees two hours, he came down and said he saw it. A short time after the cry was heard, “the pilot boat is coming.” Sails were furled, and the pilot was soon on board. In the meantime some one cried “three cheers for Capt. Woodsides!” The cry was echoed by the crowd, and Capt. Woodsides looked bullets. A flag was placed on the bow, a steamer came alongside and towed us over the bar, where our Captain anchored. We now draw water up the sides of the ship, for we are in the Mississippi river, 100 miles from New Orleans. The water is good and there is plenty of it, as the river is full. Every man has just as much as he can use, and we use it freely enough. After supper I went to my bunk, but found it too warm to rest in, so I took my blanket, and laid down, as usual, in the gangway—but not being able to stretch my feet out, in consequence of a sack of bacon in the way, I got up and searched about, and at length found an empty bunk of some one who had gone on deck to spend the night. I felt weak and sick from the heat.