It was foggy this morning. We could just see the "City of New York" laying out in the [?] A boat came in to our ship with five men - they had swamped two boats before they succeeded in getting off. The Captain lowered one of his boats, and he, the Mate, the Col and & Dr [Hossack?]started out. They arrived just in time to see a little boat belonging to [?] Schooner take off the remaining crew. Both boats came up to see us at the same time and Captain Bennet called to us to cheer the little white boat, that had rescued the crew, which we did with a hearty good will. The capt and mate went away again and shortly after, the Brig "Hope" swung against us, pushed in our wheel house, and kept digging at us until it had all the out side works on the [starberd?] side, at the stern crushed - opened out our cabin knocking to pieces Capt Bell's berth. Mine just escaped. While this was going on we saw Capt Bennet returning: I was standing at the side as the Captain came up. His boat shot past the place for getting on. He scolded his crew remarking with a forcible ejaculation that he "wouldn't give a handful of cow-dung for the whole of them" We got up steam, and the Brig was towed away, leaving our stern pretty well smashed on one side. The City of New York" was loaded with 70 cases muskets and rifles, ammunition, [hay?], shot and shell, and a great deal of Officers baggage. She is lying on her side one side stoved in - the poor fellows were on there for two days, and were clinging to her side when taken off. They had no sleep for two days, and were 15 & 1/2 feet, and why she should attempt to cross with such a sea is owing to the government pilot. In calm sea she might have made it as the channel is 17 feet. The sailors were pretty well whiskeyed when we came on board. The Captain's name was Nye and the sailors spoke highly of him. The Quarter master, Shorkley, Beaver, Jones and I got a boat, and with little [Cubby?], a dark rich colored boy, with long dark locks, such luscious red lips and black eyes, and another sailor boy, with a game eye, and big quid of tobacco in his cheeck went over to the shore. We picked up some shells, saw Gen Williams and staff, and went into Fort Hatteras, which is built of sods, having barrels filled with sand for a foundation. There was a steam engine making fresh water, and a ten inch gun outside. Three or four wrecked schooners, masts and remains of many other wrecks on the shore. We had a gay time getting our boat off the beach - as the surf rolled heavily. This morning as we were standing on deck, we saw a boat run to shore, and they buried some poor sailor on the lonely beach. There will be nothing to mark his grave - the waves will soon smooth down the little hillock of sand - He'll always have storms and winds and dashing waves over him. The ninth New York 48th Penna are on this beach. Company C. 1st [W.I.?] Artillery have [?] Hatteras. Fort Clark is just above. Camp Bull is the N.Y. regiment & five miles above Camp [blank] of the 48th. We hear that the New Hampshire Regt is to be landed & the 9th N.Y. to go with us. Just as I was getting into the boat I shook hands with Morris - the first I have seen him since we left Annapolis.
Capt. Neal as adj. gen. came on board this evening, and told us that Col. Allen of the 9th New Jersey and the surgeon of that Regiment were drowned. Their ship lay outside, and they came in on the yawl - and in returning were overset. Their bodies were recovered, and taken on board of the Highlander, a brig passing by. I saw their little boat dancing in the breakers, and afterwards saw the Highlander towed in, but I did not dream of the tragedy. I did not even observe that their bodies were lying on deck, as some of the rest did, and that they were rubbing there, and that their coats [?] up were those of officers. Just as they were taking the bodies below deck, one of our sailors said "pretty hard boys, but it can't be helped, drag 'em down." On the sern of one of the vessels which came in, a woman was sitting. One of our fellows in his ecstacy cried out, "that sight's worth a quarter, who shall I pay itto" turning round and plunging his hands into his pocket. The engineer of the City of New York, as he left the boat tore off the brass [?] in the engine room, and tied the colors around his neck.