The day was cold and rainy. One of Co D. James Conoway died last night of consumption. They lowered him into the surf boat, the band playing the dead march, and took him over to bury him on the lonely sand beach. The Col, Chaplain & Dr went along, but owing to the wind and tide they have not been able to return. The Cap was out in a boat, and had to be towed back by a steam tug. This is a dreadful stormy place. We loitered on deck this morning, the only thing of interest, to watch our carpenters repairing our breaches, and the [tide?] heaving out barrels, & beds & pieces of the wreck which it brought in last night. Dr Gibson Chaplain of the 45th & young Gregg came on board, & would not get off on account of the storm. They came from [Baltimore?] on a schooner, which turned in on account of the storm, on their way to join the 45th at Port Royal. I amused myself reading the army regulations and the Mill on the Floss. Lots of light reading has turned up from somewhere, and as we can't drill, nor go ashore, we are [?] down to it. Rations are severe. We had fried pork boiled potatoes hard bread & coffee for breakfast, boiled potatoes and soup for dinner - fried pork, boiled rice and tea for suppr. Those that are fond of molasses relish it probably best - but it comes quite natural to me. We have settled in our own minds that we are going up to the Roanoke Island. When, we have not settled. Reportsare so [covert?] and unfounded that I put no faith in them until I am completely assured.