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The Daily Dispatch: December 30, 1864., [Electronic resource], Our Wilmington Correspondence. (search)
sting and reminded one of those lively marine pictures of Turner, or the sketches in the harbors of Osteoid and Boulogne by the French artists the same school. The waves ran high and drifted rapidly in. The ferry-boats were nearly swamped; and all the vessels in the harbor had to be securely fastened to the wharf, while, on deck, everything was lashed as in a gale at sea. The smaller steamers had to get up steam in case they broke loosed from their moorings, and the receiving ship Arctic (Dr. Kane's old ship) drifted her anchors, and had to be bound, head and stern, to the shore. From six to eight, the wind increased. Eight, nine, ten, it continued to blow fearfully, threatening to unroof the houses and uproot the trees. In addition to the dust and small particles of sand, that struck against one's face like bird shot, the air was white with feculent cotton whirling in fantastic circles like pallen or thistle down upon a summer breeze. Large crowds gathered under the lee of corne