As the boats returned, regiment after regiment set sail for the fleet. But, the wind being foul, many days elapsed before all could be got off. By the end of January, we were all once more on board our former ships. But our return was far from triumphant. We, who only seven weeks ago had set out in the surest confidence of glory, and I may add, of emolument, were brought back dispirited and dejected. Our ranks were woefully thinned, our chiefs slain, our clothing tattered and filthy, and our discipline in some degree injured. A gloomy silence reigned throughout the armament, except when it was broken by the voice of lamentation over fallen friends. The interior of each ship presented a scene well calculated to prove the misadventures of human hope and human prudence. On reaching the fleet, we found that a splendid regiment, the 40th Foot, of one thousand men, had just arrived to reinforce us, ignorant of the fatal issue of our attack. But the coming of thrice their number could not recover what was lost, or recall the fateful past. There was no welcome, nor rejoicing; so great was the despondency that no attention was given to the event. A sullen indifference as to what might happen next seemed to have succeeded all our wonted curiosity, and confidence of success in every undertaking. On the 4th of February, the fleet weighed anchor and set sail, though detained by adverse winds near the shore of Cat Island until the 7th, when it put to sea. Our course, towards the east, led to the conjecture that we were steering towards Mobile. Nor was it long before we came in sight of the bay which bears that name. SECOND ATTACK ON FORT BOWYER, MOBILE BAY.