The Boys of '61 Part 56

Five days later, on the 27th, the people of Charleston looked seaward and saw Moultrie in flames, and the stars and stripes waving over Sumter. They were indignant. They considered it a breach of faith.

"Anderson has opened civil war," said the Courier.[87]

"His act must be repudiated by the government," said the Mercury.[88]

"Unless you order Anderson back, I cannot, under my convictions of patriotism and honor, continue to hold office," said the Secretary of War, John B. Floyd, of Virginia.[89]

Charleston was intensely excited.

"a.s.semble the Light Infantry and the Meagher Guards at the Citadel. Arm them and take possession of Castle Pinckney. Proceed immediately to Fort Moultrie; send troops to Morris Island," were the orders of Governor Pickens to Colonel Pettigrew.

"Our line of operations embraces four points: Fort Moultrie, Castle Pinckney, Fort Johnson, and Morris Island. You are indebted to the forbearance of the enemy for the liberty of transporting the reinforcements and supplies, which you ordered at midnight, and which are to be sent to your battery now in course of erection on Morris Island. A single gun from Fort Sumter would sink your transports and destroy your troops and supplies," reported General Simmons to the Governor on the 1st of January.

It was the language of war. The United States was an enemy. The guns of Moultrie were already trained on Sumter. The battery on Morris Island was for the destruction of that fort. South Carolina had begun the war in intention and in fact. The erection of the battery was war.

On the 9th of January the same battery opened fire on the Star of the West, steaming into the harbor, bearing the United States flag.

"You are asked to surrender the fort to the const.i.tuted authorities of South Carolina," was the demand of Governor Pickens on the 11th.

"I cannot comply with your request," was the response from Anderson.

Then came the negotiations between Charleston and Was.h.i.+ngton,-the demands upon Buchanan, the shuffling and indecision of the two-faced, unprincipled politician, who had written himself down as an "Old Public Functionary." Major Anderson was watched day and night, cut off from intercourse with the sh.o.r.e, deprived of fresh provisions, treated as an enemy, and compelled to see the preparations on Morris Island and on the floating battery for the reduction of the fort. Thus February and March pa.s.sed away. His provisions were nearly gone. Troops were pouring into Charleston from all parts of the State and from other States. Savannah sent a company early in December. They were under the command of General Beauregard,-a small, brown, thin, wiry man, forty years old, born upon the banks of the Mississippi, in Louisiana, yet more of a Frenchman than an American.

Mr. Lincoln could not consent that Major Anderson should starve. The people of the North would not permit it. Its sentiment was for sustaining an officer who had been true to his oath, amid a general breaking down of loyalty.

Sunday dawned, the 7th of April, and Major Anderson, looking out from his prison, saw the Rebels hard at work to complete the batteries on Morris Island.

"An attempt will be made to supply Fort Sumter with provisions only," was the official notice from President Lincoln to Pickens on the 8th.

"Demand the surrender of the fort; if refused, reduce it," was the order from Montgomery.

"Surrender," was the message of Beauregard to Anderson. "I cannot; but I shall soon be starved out unless relieved," was the courteous reply.

"When will you evacuate?"

"At noon on the 15th, if I receive no supplies," wrote Anderson on the 11th.

"I shall open fire in one hour," was the last message of Beauregard, at twenty minutes past three on the morning of the 12th.

Then came the roar of the first gun, fired by old Mr. Ruffin, gray-haired, nearly fourscore. Not the young bloods of the South alone, but men and women of all ages and cla.s.ses were crazy for the contest.

Sh.e.l.ls burst in the fort, plunging through the wooden barracks and officers' quarters. Solid shot from Morris Island were hurled point-blank against the walls. All day the batteries flamed, and Sumter leisurely replied.

Defence of Fort Sumter.

When darkness came on Sumter closed its port-holes and rested, but the Rebels, like spirits of evil, were at work through the night.

The second day dawned, and all the cannon were roaring again. The barracks were on fire, the smoke curling into the casemates, the hot stifling air reaching the gunners, who, wrapping themselves in wet cloths, and covering their faces, crept along the pa.s.sages, rolling casks of powder into the sea. What delight on sh.o.r.e to see the flames mount above the walls! With what energy Moultrie, Pinckney, and Morris Island and the floating battery redoubled their fire. All but three of Anderson's cartridges were gone. The flagstaff was shot away. "The flag is down!" is the cry within the fort. Up into the storm, where the shot and sh.e.l.l are falling, walks Lieutenant Hall, planting the flag upon the parapet, where it waves till Wigfall appears at a port-hole. Then the parley,-the surrender,-and Charleston was excited as never before or since. Men and women on the house-tops, and gathered in church-steeples; business at a stand still, champagne flowing like water, costliest wines quaffed at the expense of merchants of New York; bells ringing, guns firing, ladies waving their handkerchiefs,-the city all aglow with bonfires in the evening; crowds surging through the streets, or drinking whiskey in the bar-rooms: Beauregard the Napoleon of the new era. Governor Pickens addressed the mob from the balcony of the Charleston Hotel:-

"It is a glorious and exultant occasion. Fellow-citizens, I clearly saw that the day was coming when we would triumph beyond the power of man to put us down. Thank G.o.d the day has come,-thank G.o.d the war is open, and we will conquer or peris.h.!.+ We have defeated their twenty millions, and we have made the proud flag of the stars and stripes, that never was lowered before to any nation on this earth,-we have lowered it in humility before the glorious little State of South Carolina!"[90]

Intoxicated with wine and whiskey, delirious with success, insane with Secession, the jubilant crowd cheer and drink, and shout again, bidding defiance to the government, and cursing the Yankees.

Four years pa.s.s, and Sumter is repossessed by the troops of the Union. How cheering the sight to behold once more the crimson folds and fadeless stars of our country's flag waving in the sunlight over the crumbled walls!

Early in the morning we entered the harbor,-General Gillmore and staff, General Webster, chief of General Sherman's staff, with several gentlemen and ladies from Port Royal. The blockading fleet and the monitors were steaming in, their long watch through the sweltering days of summer and the stormy nights of winter at an end. They were feeling their way up the channel searching for torpedoes.

The steamer Deer, built on the Clyde, a few hours from Na.s.sau, with an a.s.sorted cargo,-a low, rakish, fast-running craft, with steam escaping from her pipes,-was lying under the guns of a monitor. She had worked her way in during the night. The crestfallen captain was chewing the cud of disappointment on the quarter-deck, looking gloomily seaward the while, and doubtless wis.h.i.+ng himself in the harbor of Na.s.sau. Two nights before the Syren had pa.s.sed in. The wreck of a third blockade-runner was lying on the sands of Sullivan's Island, near Moultrie, which months before had been run ash.o.r.e by the fleet. The tide was surging through the cabin windows. Barnacles had fastened upon the hull, and long tresses of green, dank seaweed hung trailing from the iron paddle-wheels. It was a satisfaction to know that the time was at hand when Englishmen at Na.s.sau would have to shut up shop.

We glided along the sh.o.r.e of Morris Island, white with tents. What heroic valor on those sands,-the a.s.sault upon Wagner, the slow, persistent excavation of the trenches, the unremitting vigilance and energy, the endurance which had forced the evacuation of Morris Island,-the turning of the guns of Wagner upon Sumter, the planting of the "Swamp-Angel" battery,-the first sh.e.l.l sent streaming into the city, startling the inhabitants, and awaking the unpleasant conviction that the Yankees were at their doors! So memory ran over the historic events, as we swept up the channel.

The steamer could not approach near the landing, and we were taken to the fort in small boats. We reached the interior through a low, narrow pa.s.sage.

The fort bore little resemblance to its former appearance, externally or internally. None of the original face of the wall was to be seen, except on the side towards Charleston and a portion of that facing Moultrie. From the harbor and from Wagner it appeared only a tumulus,-the debris of an old ruin. All the casemates, arches, pillars, and parapets were torn up and utterly demolished. The great guns which two years before kept the monitors at bay, which flamed and thundered awhile upon Wagner, were dismounted, broken, and partially buried beneath the mountain of brick, dust, concrete, sand, and mortar. After Dupont's attack, in April, 1863, a reinforcement of palmetto-logs was made on the harbor side, and against half of the wall facing Moultrie, and the lower casemates were filled with sand-bags; but when General Gillmore obtained possession of Wagner, his fire began to crumble the parapet. The Rebels endeavored to maintain its original height by gabions filled with sand, but this compelled a widening of the base inside by sand-bags, thousands of which were brought to the fort at night. Day after day, week after week, the pounding from Wagner was maintained so effectually that it was impossible to keep a gun in position on the side of Sumter fronting it, and the only guns remaining mounted were five or six on the side towards Moultrie, in the middle tier of casemates. Five howitzers were kept on the walls to repel an attack by small boats, the garrison keeping under cover, or seeking shelter whenever the lookout cried, "A shot!"

Cheveaux-de-frise of pointed sticks protected the fort from a scaling party. At the base outside was a barrier of interlaced wire, supported by iron posts. There was also a submerged network of wire and chains, kept in place by floating buoys.

I had the curiosity to make an inspection of the wall nearest Moultrie, to see what had been the effect of the fire of the ironclads in Dupont's attack. With my gla.s.s at that time I could see that the wall was badly honeycombed; a close inspection now proved that the fire was very damaging. There were seams in the masonry, and great gashes where the solid bolts crumbled the bricks to dust. It was evident that if the fire had been continued any considerable length of time the wall would have fallen. Its effect suggested the necessity of filling up the lower casemates.

An hour was pa.s.sed in the fort, the band playing national airs, and the party inspecting the ruins and gathering relics.

Captain James of the Ma.s.sachusetts Fifty-Fourth, aide to General Gillmore, was wounded in the a.s.sault on Wagner. He gazed at the ruins with a satisfaction not unmixed with melancholy, for beneath the sands of Morris Island was lying his beloved commander, Colonel Shaw.

The Rebels had refused to give up his body. "Let him lie buried beneath his n.i.g.g.e.rs," was their answer to the request. And there he lies beside the brave men who followed him to death and glory, having won an immortal name no less as the commander of the first negro regiment sent to the war than by his gentle bearing as a man and bravery as a soldier. His acceptance of the command of the despised men who gladly enlisted when called to the field required at the time a devotion to principle and a decision of character, to face the gibes and sneers flung at him by negro-haters in his rear, greater than the courage to meet the enemy at the front. But he n.o.bly led the way, and silenced every carping tongue.

For four long years the cannon of Sumter had hurled defiance at the rights of man; but the contest now was ended. Eternal principles had prevailed against every effort of Rebel hate to crush them. The strong earthworks on Sullivan's and Johnson's islands, the batteries in the harbor, Castle Pinckney and Fort Ripley, and those in the city erected by slaves, were useless forever, except as monuments of folly and wickedness. As I stood there upon the ruins of Sumter, looking down into the crater, the past like a panorama was unrolled, exhibiting the mighty events which will forever make it memorable. The silent landing of Major Anderson at the postern gate, the midnight prayer and solemn consecration of the little band to defend the flag till the last, the long weeks of preparation by the Rebels, the Star of the West turning her bow seaward, the 12th of April, the barracks on fire, the supplies exhausted, the hopelessness of success, the surrender, and all that had followed, were vivid memories of the moment.

How inspiring to hear the music of the band, to behold the numerous vessels of the fleet decorated from bowsprit to yardarm and topmast with flags and streamers, to recall the heroic sacrifices of those who had fought through the weary years, to know that Sumter, Moultrie, the city, and the State were redeemed from the worst system of va.s.salage, that our country was still a nation, renewed and regenerated by its baptism of fire and blood, that truth and right were vindicated before the world; and to look down the coming years, and know that Freedom was secured to all beneath the folds of the flag that had withstood the intrigues of cabals and the shock of battle, and that Christianity and civilization, twin agents of human progress, had received an impetus that would forever keep us in the van of nations.

For our Flag.

Looking at that flag, involuntarily I repeated the words of the song which I heard when the shadows of night fell upon the gory field of Antietam, sung by our wounded in one of the hospitals:-

"Our flag is there! our flag is there!

We hail it with three loud huzzas!

Our flag is there! our flag is there!

Behold the glorious stripes and stars!

Stout hearts have fought for that bright flag, Strong hands sustained it masthead high, And O, to see how proud it waves, Brings tears of joy to every eye!"

CHAPTER XXIX.

CHARLESTON.

Feb., 1865.

A city of ruins,-silent, mournful, in deepest humiliation. It was early morning when we reached the wharf, piled with merchandise, not busy with commercial activity as in other days, but deserted, its timbers rotting, its planks decayed, its sheds tumbling in and reeling earthward. The slips, once crowded with steam and sailing vessels, were now vacant, except that an old sloop with a worm-eaten gunwale, tattered sails, and rigging hanging in shreds, alone remained.

A few fishermen's dories only were rocking on the waves, tethered to the wharves by rotten ropes, where the great cotton Argosies in former years had s.h.i.+pped or landed their cargoes.