Prescott journal. [volume] (Prescott, Wis.) 1861-1871, 1862-02-05
Prescott, Wisconsin. Feb. 5, 1862,
Foreign correspondence.
HAVANA, Dec. 23d, 1861.

New York. The U. S. mail steamer
"Columbia " is loading at her pier, at
the foot of Robinson Street--a pier
crowded with drays and drivers.
The steameris to sail at | P. NJ, and
by half.past II her decks are full, and
the mud and snow of the pier are well
trodden by men and horses. Coaches
drive down at the rate of $40, ard ncr
vous passengers put their heads out to
see if tue steamer is off before her timo.
And on tho decks, and in the gangway,
inexperienced passengers run against
everybody, and mistake the engineer for
the steward, and come up the Same
stairs they go down without knowing it.
The news boys cry the papers, and the
book vendors thrust Great Expecta-
tons in your face: Reading for the
voyage, Madame, five hundred pages
close print" 81 have read it," say.
AT last l am left to myself, and look
about, among my fellow-passengers, for
familiar face. think they are all
strangers, and wonder what they are 60
ing to Cuba for. The question is easily
answered. You see those invalids
scarcely able TO walk tho deck. | think
they are going to die on a cot-bed, under
a musquito net, and be buried in a Pot
ter's Field. | am tired of looking at the
throng of people parting with their
friends, and of hearing the one thing
repeated, i" Write often," over and over.
As no ore is allowed to come on board
the steamer without permit from
Washington, friends take their last kiss
on the pier.
Captain B is sure to sail at the
hour. The order is given, the fastenings
arc loosed, the warp run 6ut, the crew
pull on the warp on the port-qnarter, and
the head swings off, No word Is spo-
ken, but all is done by signs. There is
no tearing and rending escape of steam,
deafening and distracting all with terror.
We leave city and suburbs, Brooklyn
Heights, and the fcggy outline of Staten
Island far behind US, and hurry through
the Narrows for the open sea. The
Heights of Neversink are passed. The
night closes in upon the sea. 1t is very
pleasant for the time of year, not very
cold. / remain on deck with few other
passengers, with our chairs as near the
chimney rs we can draw them. We
will not acknowledge to one another we
are sea sick. We are looking at our sig
nal lanterns; the red, the white, and the
green CLEAN out into the mist. The fur
mace fires throw lurid light from the
doors below, cheerful or fearful as may
be the temper of mind of the looker-on.
The sea bells begin to strike thoir strange
reckoning of the half hours. At six
bells tea is announced. l mako the at :
tempt to 90 down in the cabin. 1t looks
cheerful and lively. As rise to my feet
know that am very sea sick, and will
take my state-room instead of the tea.
/ was very sick, although the weather
was mild fc. three days, and have had
but very little sea. We are near Cape
Hatteras. 1t is night, and soon the light
of Hatteras throws its bright, cheerful
beam for thirty miles, over a huge burial
ground of sailors. How many struggles
with death; how many unavailing efforts
of skill and courage; what floating
wrecks of ships; what waste of liie,-
has that light shone over. Under that
reef persisted Backer, flying for harbor
before the gale, in his little surveying
trig. Every league has been. and will
be, field where lives anil treasures are
sewn thick from the hand of destruc-
ton.
Soon after 8 P. NJ. We stand out dire, t
to cross the Gulf Stream. A bucket is
thrown over the side, and water drawn.
It's temperature is at Al .. In fifteen
minutes more it is thrown again, and the
water is at 72o so. We are in the
Gulf Stream. @
DECEMBER GA bright, sunny,
cheerful day. Passengers have laid aside
their thick coats and far caps. The decks
are dry, the sea is calm, and the steady
going engine, alone, with its easy exer-
else of power, drives tho great hull, with
its cargo Of freight and provisions and
human beings over the placid sea as fasI
as furious gale could drive it, and leaves
her long wake of foam on tho sea, and
her long wake of dark smoke in the sky,
HAVANA, Dec. 22.-At sunrise we are
in sight of the Moro, with its tall senti
mel light house, and its towers, and s;g-
nal stats; the red and yellow striped flag
of Spain, blood and gold, floats over it
Soon the familiar scene becomes visible
The blue, white. and yellow houses, with
their roofs of dull red tiles, the quaint old
Cathedral towers, and the almost endless
lines of Notifications. The masts of the
numerous shipping rise over the head
line. You can imagine a forest lies lie.
tween the city and harbor. At the right
is the cemetery; my eyes wander in
stinctively in that direction. | feel tho
tears trickle down my cheeks. ! an
living once more with the dead. Ny
Albert is buried here. ~ .-,
The ship moves along, the signal TO
have TO enter is run up, and we steer il
under full Roadway. The guns arr
laundering from the Moro, the trumpet
and drums playing from all the fortifca
lions, tho Moro, the Punty, the Ions
Calano, the Casa Blanca, and the cit,
walls, while the broad sun