Disaster in Rio Grande Valley 63 



stern of the boat to bid me good-bye; in silence 

 they took ofif their hats, not a sound was heard but 

 the escapement of the steam. Sorrow filled my 

 heart for the probable fate of so fine a body of men, 

 but it was no time now for reflections, I had three 

 dying men on my hands, and the business of the 

 camp to attend to. 



I went to the sick tents; poor young Liscomb 

 worn out and heart broken sat leaning against the 

 tent where his father lay dying, looking as pallid 

 and exhausted as the sick man, and almost asleep; 

 I roused him and sent him to my tent to get some 

 rest. Edward Whittlesey was next, looking as if he 

 had been ill for months ; his dog, a Newfoundland, 

 was walking about him, licking his hands and feet 

 and giving evidence of the greatest affection; from 

 time to time smelling his mouth for his breath, 

 but it was gone. 



I slowly walked to Boden's tent but there was no 

 change from the stupor into which he had fallen; 

 and I sat down to wait, for what? All exertions 

 had been made to save our brave men, and all had 

 failed. Like sailors with masts and rudder gone, 

 wallowing in the trough of a storm-tossed ocean, 

 we had to await our fate, one of us only at a time 

 going from tent to tent of our dying companions 

 to note the hour of their last breath. 



I suddenly thought I would try one more 

 resource, and I sent John Stevens to Dr. Campbell 



