The Pawnee made fast to the dock, and Colonel Wardrop marched out his regiment and stationed them at the several gates of the Navy Yard to oppose the entrance of any forces from without, in case an attempt to enter should be made. Having adopted this precaution, the Commodore set the marines on the Pennsylvania, the Cumberland, the Pawnee, and in the yard, to work. All the books and papers, the archives of the establishment, were transferred to the Pawnee. Everything of interest to the Government on the Pennsylvania was promptly transferred to the Cumberland. On this latter vessel, it was also said, a large amount of gold from the Custom House at Norfolk had been in good time placed. Having made safe everything that was to be brought away, the marines were next set to work to destroy everything on the Pennsylvania, and the other ships, and in the yard, that might be of immediate use in waging war upon the government. Many thousand stands of arms were destroyed. Carbines had their stocks broken from the barrels by a blow, and were thrown overboard. A large lot of revolvers shared the like fate. Shot and shell by thousands went with hurried plunge to the bottom. Most of the cannon had been spiked the day and night before. There were at least 1,500 pieces in the yard—some elegant Dahlgren guns, and Columbiads of all sizes. It is impossible to describe the scene of destruction that was exhibited. Unweariedly it was continued from 9 o’clock until about 12, during which time the moon gave light to direct the operations. But when the moon sank behind the western horizon, the barracks near the centre of the yard were set on fire, that by its illumination the work might be continued. The crackling flames and the glare of light inspired with new energies the destroying marines, and havoc was carried everywhere within the limits of orders. But time was not left to complete the work. Four o’clock of Sunday morning came, and the Pawnee was passing down from Gosport harbor with the Cumberland, the coveted prize of the secessionists, in tow—every soul from the other ships and the yard being aboard of them, save two. Just as they left their moorings, a rocket was sent up from the deck of the Pawnee. It sped high in air, paused a second, and burst in shivers of many-colored light. As it did so, the well-set trains at the ship-houses, and on the decks of the fated vessels left behind, went off as if lit simultaneously by the rocket. One of the ship-houses contained the old New York, a ship thirty years on the stocks, and yet unfinished. The other was vacant; but both houses and the old New York burnt like tinder. The older and unserviceable vessels, the Pennsylvania, the Raritan, the Columbia, the Dolphin, were fired without compunction; while the Merrimac, Plymouth and Germantown were sunk, and the immense lifting shears used for raising vessels was broken down and rendered useless. The old Delaware and Columbus, worn