Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 23.
Reverend J. William Jones, Ed.

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‘ [183] sma' hours’ the darkness of the night was relieved by the lightness and redness of the clouds, caused by the burning of the cotton. Having been ordered to report this morning at my armory, I did so at 8 o'clock. After that, together with several of my comrades, I went onto the levee, which was the scene of great confusion.

I judged that the enemy's boats must be very near (although I had heard nothing official since the morning of yesterday), for our men were busily engaged setting fire to several of our gunboats lying at the wharf opposite Canal street. It was a beautiful, but a melancholy, sight to behold our boats burning. The floating battery was also on fire, but burning slowly, while our public-spirited little newsboys were throwing overboard from her deck the innumerable shells there collected. Most of those steamboats which had not left yet for up the river now backed out and shortly steamed off with their valuable cargoes of human beings and their riches in freight and baggage. About 10 o'clock this morning the people, with permission of the owners thereof, began to knock in the heads of sugar hogsheads and barrels and help themselves. Numbers were also engaged in rolling off barrels of molasses; and indeed, not only did the draymen carry home to their families full loads of these valuable articles, but even to a late hour in the evening the poor Dutch and Irish women, and even little boys and girls, were to be seen rolling through our streets both hogsheads and barrels of those and other articles. Thus were the poor provided for. The steamboat, or rather gunboat, ram, was set on fire about 1 o'clock and drifted from her moorings down past the city, a bright and glowing sight, but sad in the extreme. However, I should have first mentioned that about 12 or 12:30 o'clock the Yankee steamers, eight in number, hove in sight and were soon riding abreast of the Queen City of the South.

Two officers of the fleet came ashore under a flag of truce and proceeded under escort to the City Hall, where they met our city authorities. They demanded an unconditional surrender of the city and forts, under penalty of being immediately shelled out by them. It was indignantly refused, and I know nothing further. They returned to their fleet, and I do not know how things stand between us and them. We are still burning cotton, boats, etc., giving the sky an artificial lighting which outshines the brilliancy of the stars. The dusky, long, morose, demon-like Yankee steamers still lay like evil messengers of woe at our very front. As our invaders see the spirit shown by us in the flames of our cotton set on fire by