When I woke up this morning the ship was pitching and rolling very much. Every one almost was sick. I went out to wash, and came back for a touch when it struck me about the pit of the stomach - I got outside & got well enough, until I came in to get breakfast - & had to rush out, and [put?] up all the bile in me. About ten we arrived opposite Hatteras inlet & in a half hour crossed the bar and anchored opposite Ft. Clark. I could not help laughing at the woe begone expression of the countenances for the last few days; John Smith, the Col's servant suffered particularly. Dick was sick too until we stopped inside the bar. Cap Snyder, Lt [Gaulen?], Beaver and several others were sick all the time. The Col. was also in best most of his time. I had a sort of tremulous fear of it, until last night, when though there was a good deal of high seas, I felt so well that I had given up all expectation of being sick. During the night there was a severe wind, and nearly every one on the boat was sick. I however slept through it all - toward morning I wakened up by being nearly pitched out. I had no suspicion of my own fate until I got up. I found Dick rolling around the floor, and after the most ridiculous attempts falling over my trunk pitching in to Capt Shawl's bread basket with my head, and seeing Capt. Shawl immediately after make a motion as if he were going to [die?], and landing head formost among a pile of trunks. I steadied myself with one arm around a post, and managed to get my stock on. I then went out to wash - & coming back was seized with a burning sensation in the pit of the stomach and commenced gaging: I rushed out, but it ended in gaging. I went out on the side of the stern and lay there watching the fleet. We were farthest out, just opposite Cape Hatteras. Between us and the shore was a white steamer, the Eastern Queen, the George Peabody, having the little propeller Picket in tow, and several other steamers following behind. They were in the worst of the rolling waves, and rolled and pitched wonderfully: we could see them roll down until the sides were covered. We could see Gen. Burnside standing on the Deck of the Picket, seemingly unaffected. The propellers rolled like logs. We soon stood in towards shore, and crossed the bow of the Peabody. A splendid steamship came up past us, the Spaulding - the little gunboat pilot came out, she hailed us, and asked our draft - 8 feet replied the Captain - "Too much sea to cross the Bar." Our paddles stopped, but the Spaulding & Picket made a dash. It was a splendid sight - The waves rolling and chasing each other until they broke in madness, dashing high the spray - the Spaulding went through, and we followed hard after her, getting in before the little Picket. I stood on the hurricane deck as we went through. Even our big boat pitched so that we had to hold fast. But just before this I had been down aft - Foster came out pale and dizzy looking - John Smith stuck his out of a little window - had colored in hue - each making desperate efforts to relieve the stomach. Foster recovered and proposed to go in to breakfast. I consented - went in - took a piece of ham - & was waiting for bread - when I was seized with an intense nausea - I started aft - fell over a trunk overset the Col's table, which went down with a tremendous clatter - & succeeded in getting out to relieve myself of considerable bile. Since then I have been perfectly well, except being weak from not having eaten anything. Four o'clock we had dinner and a hungrier set of men were never seen - Some had not eaten for two days. I feel most splendidly now. All have recovered & are in fine spirits. This is a dreadful windy place. We interested ourselves in watching the other ships come through the inlet. Very few of the sailing vessels have come through, owing to the head winds, and are riding outside. But nearly all the steamships have arrived, and the harbor looks lively. The point is a low beach of sand - Fort Clark near the point, with one or two [?] houses on it. The inlet is but a quarter of a mile wide and very dangerous. The book [prescribes?] that no one should go in without a pilot. When we reached Cape Hatteras last evening, we turned back and ran north until midnight & then turned passing the light house at the Cape about nine o'clock. The 48th Penn Reg, Col Nagle is on this place garrisoning Ft. Clark.
