Backing a short distance, he ran at the boom with such velocity that his boat leaped across it into the water beyond.  In an instant more his torpedo struck the side of the “Albemarle” and exploded, tearing a great hole in her hull, which sank her in a few minutes.  At the moment the torpedo went off the “Albermarle” fired one of her great guns directly into the launch, tearing it completely to pieces.  Lieutenant Cushing and one comrade rose to the surface of the seething water and, swimming ashore, escaped.  What became of the rest is not known, but their fate can hardly be a matter of doubt.

We were ferried across the river into Wilmington, and marched up the streets to some vacant ground near the railroad depot, where we found most of our old Florence comrades already assembled.  When they left us in the middle of February they were taken to Wilmington, and thence to Goldsboro, N. C., where they were kept until the rapid closing in of our Armies made it impracticable to hold them any longer, when they were sent back to Wilmington and given up to our forces as we had been.

It was now nearly noon, and we were ordered to fall in and draw rations, a bewildering order to us, who had been so long in the habit of drawing food but once a day.  We fell in in single rank, and marched up, one at a time, past where a group of employees of the Commissary Department dealt out the food.  One handed each prisoner as he passed a large slice of meat; another gave him a handful of ground coffee; a third a handful of sugar; a fourth gave him a pickle, while a fifth and sixth handed him an onion and a loaf of fresh bread.  This filled the horn of our plenty full.  To have all these in one day—­meat, coffee, sugar, onions and soft bread—­was simply to riot in undreamed-of luxury.  Many of the boys—­poor fellows—­could not yet realize that there was enough for all, or they could not give up their old “flanking” tricks, and they stole around, and falling into the rear, came up again for’ another share.  We laughed at them, as did the Commissary men, who, nevertheless, duplicated the rations already received, and sent them away happy and content.

What a glorious dinner Andrews and I had, with our half gallon of strong coffee, our soft bread, and a pan full of fried pork and onions!  Such an enjoyable feast will never be, eaten again by us.

Here we saw negro troops under arms for the first time—­the most of the organization of colored soldiers having been, done since our capture.  It was startling at first to see a stalwart, coal-black negro stalking along with a Sergeant’s chevrons on his arm, or to gaze on a regimental line of dusky faces on dress parade, but we soon got used to it.  The first strong peculiarity of the negro soldier that impressed itself, upon us was his literal obedience of orders.  A white soldier usually allows himself considerable discretion in obeying orders—­he aims more at the spirit, while the negro adheres to the strict letter of the command.