to retire
till daylight appeared. Profound silence was maintained; not a man
opened his mouth, except to issue necessary orders in a whisper. Not
a cough or any other noise was to be heard from the head to the rear
of the column. Even the steps of the soldiers were planted with care,
to prevent the slightest echo. Nor was this precaution unnecessary.
In spite of every endeavor to the contrary, a rumor of our intention
had reached the Americans; for we found them of late very watchful
and prying.

While our route lay alongside the river, the march was agreeable
enough, but as soon as we entered the marsh, all comfort was at an
end. Our roadway, constructed of materials so slight, and resting on
a foundation so infirm, was trodden to pieces by the first corps.
Those who followed were compelled to flounder on the best way they
could. By the time the rear of the column gained the morass, all
trace of a way had disappeared. Not only were the reeds torn asunder
and sunk by the pressure of those in front, but the bog itself was
trodden into the consistency of mud. Every step sunk us to the knees,
and sometimes higher. Near the ditches, we had the utmost difficulty
in crossing at all. There being no light, except what the stars
supplied, it was difficult to select our steps, or follow those who
called to us that they were safe on the other side. At one of those
ditches, I myself beheld an unfortunate wretch gradually sink until
he totally disappeared. I saw him flounder, heard his cry for help,
and ran forward with the intention of saving him; but before I had
taken a second step, I myself sunk to my breast in the mire. How I
kept from smothering is more than I can tell, for I felt no solid
bottom under me, and sank slowly deeper and deeper, till the mud
reached my arms. Instead of rescuing the poor soldier, I was forced
to beg assistance for myself. A leathern canteen strap being thrown
to me, I laid hold of it, and was dragged out, just as my
fellow-sufferer was buried alive, and seen no more.

All night we continued our journey, toiling and struggling through
this terrible quagmire; and in the morning reached the Fishermen's
Huts, mentioned before as standing on the brink of Bayou Bienvenue,
near Lake Borgne. The site is as complete a desert as the eye of man
was ever pained by beholding. Not a tree or a bush grew ne