Hearts Touched by Fire

by Harold Holzer

  The preparation of Sumter for defense afforded a fine field for ingenuity, because nothing connected with its equipment was complete. As another illustration of this ingenuity, the following is in point. It might become desirable to continue a bombardment into the night, and the casemates, owing to the partial closing up of the arches with flagstones, were as dark as dungeons, even on very clear nights. Lights of some kind were absolutely necessary, but there were no candles and no lamps. There was a light-house on the fort, however, and the light-keeper had several barrels of oil on hand. Small tubes of tin, to receive wicks, were made, and fitted into disks of cork sufficiently large to float them on the surface of the oil. Coffee-cups were then filled with oil and the floats laid on the surface.

  Among the many incidents of the siege may be mentioned the mishap of an ice-laden Yankee schooner that strayed within range of the secession batteries; the accidental solid shot fired at Fort Sumter by an impatient secessionist in the Cumming’s Point battery, and the daring generosity of McInerny, a warm-hearted and loyal Irishman, who did not “cross the broad Atlantic to become the citizen of only one Shtate,” and who cheerfully risked his life and ruined his Sunday shirt by tearing a white flag from it, that he might be able to deliver in person his donation of tobacco to the besieged soldiers. There is one other incident which should find a place in these reminiscences.

  Major Anderson was fully impressed with the solemn responsibilities which rested upon him when he transferred his command to Sumter. When he reached Sumter there were no halliards to the flag-staff, and as there was more pressing work on hand for several days, some time elapsed before it became possible to display the national flag. At length, however, halliards were rigged, and everything was ready for the flag. The usual method of proceeding in such a case would have been to order the sergeant of the guard to send up the flag, but it was otherwise arranged on this occasion. A dress-parade was ordered, and the little garrison formed around the flag-staff, the officers in the center. Presently Major Anderson, with Chaplain Harris of Fort Moultrie, who perhaps had been summoned for the purpose, approached the flag-staff, and the command was brought to “Attention.” The flag, already bent to the halliards, was held by one officer, and another held the hoisting end of the halliards. The chaplain then, in a few words, invited those present to join with him in prayer, and Major Anderson, receiving the halliards from the officer who till that time had held them, knelt beside the chaplain, most of the officers and some of the men in the ranks following his example. Prayers being ended, all rose, and the flag of Fort Sumter was raised by Major Anderson, and the halliards secured. He then turned toward the officers and directed that the companies be dismissed. If any of those who doubted the loyalty to the Union of Major Anderson could have had but one glimpse of that impressive scene, they would have doubted no longer.

  The weary waiting for war or deliverance which filled up the few weeks that intervened between the preparations and the actual bombardment developed no discontent among the men, although food and fuel were getting scarce. The latter was replenished from time to time by tearing down sheds and temporary workshops, but the former was a constantly diminishing quantity, and the men could count on their fingers the number of days between them and starvation. It was a favorite belief among the secessionists that the pinchings of hunger would arouse a spirit of mutiny among the soldiers, and compel Major Anderson to propose terms of evacuation. But no such spirit manifested itself. On the contrary, the men exhibited a devotion to their Government and the officers appointed over them which surprised their enemies, but attracted little attention from their friends.3

  The opening of the bombardment was a somewhat dramatic event. A relieving fleet was approaching, all unknown to the Sumter garrison, and General Beauregard, perhaps with the hope of tying Major Anderson’s hands in the expected fight with that fleet, had opened negotiations with him on the 11th of April looking toward the evacuation of the fort. But Major Anderson declined to evacuate his post till compelled by hunger. The last ounce of breadstuffs had been consumed, and matters were manifestly approaching a crisis. It was evident from the activity of the enemy that something important was in the wind. That night we retired as usual. Toward half-past three on the morning of the 12th we were startled by a gun fired in the immediate vicinity of the fort, and many rose to see what was the matter. It was soon learned that a steamer from the enemy desired to communicate with Major Anderson, and a small boat under a flag of truce was received and delivered the message. Although no formal announcement of the fact was made, it became generally known among the men that in one hour General Beauregard would open his batteries on Sumter.

  CONFEDERATE FLOATING BATTERY IN ACTION AT THE WEST END OF SULLIVAN’S ISLAND.

  Colonel Joseph A. Yates, who was a lieutenant in the attack on Fort Sumter, says in a letter accompanying the plan on this page: “I send a rough sketch of the floating battery which I commanded; it is rough, but from my recollection it is very like her. The battery was substantially built, flat, heavily timbered on her shield, with railroad iron laid on it—two courses of rails turned inward and outward, so as to form a pretty smooth surface. The bags of sand represented on the deck were to counterweigh the guns, which were 32 and 42-pounders. She was struck many times, several shot going entirely through the shield.”

  The men waited about for some time in expectation of orders, but received none, except an informal order to go to bed, and the information that reveille would be sounded at the usual hour. This was daylight, fully two hours off, so some of the men did retire. The majority perhaps remained up, anxious to see the opening, for which purpose they had all gone on the ramparts. Except that the flag was hoisted, and a glimmer of light was visible at the guard-house, the fort looked so dark and silent as to seem deserted. The morning was dark and raw. Some of the watchers surmised that Beauregard was “bluffing,” and that there would be no bombardment. But promptly at 4:30 A.M. a flash as of distant lightning in the direction of Mount Pleasant, followed by the dull roar of a mortar, told us that the bombardment had begun. The eyes of the watchers easily detected and followed the burning fuse which marked the course of the shell as it mounted among the stars, and then descended with ever-increasing velocity, until it landed inside the fort and burst. It was a capital shot. Then the batteries opened on all sides, and shot and shell went screaming over Sumter as if an army of devils were swooping around it. As a rule the guns were aimed too high, but all the mortar practice was good. In a few minutes the novelty disappeared in a realizing sense of danger, and the watchers retired to the bomb-proofs, where they discussed probabilities until reveille.

  Habits of discipline are strong among old soldiers. If it had not been for orders to the contrary, the men would have formed for roll-call on the open parade, as it was their custom to do, although mortar-shells were bursting there at the lively rate of about one a minute. But they were formed under the bomb-proofs, and the roll was called as if nothing unusual was going on. They were then directed to get breakfast, and be ready to fall in when “assembly” was beaten. The breakfast part of the order was considered a grim joke, as the fare was reduced to the solitary item of fat pork, very rusty indeed. But most of the men worried down a little of it, and were “ready” when the drum called them to their work.

  By this time it was daylight, and the effects of the bombardment became visible. No serious damage was being done to the fort. The enemy had concentrated their fire on the barbette batteries, but, like most inexperienced gunners, they were firing too high. After daylight their shooting improved, until at 7:30 A.M., when “assembly” was beaten in Sumter, it had become fairly good. At “assembly” the men were again paraded, and the orders of the day announced. The garrison was divided into two reliefs, and the tour of duty at the guns was to be four hours. Captain Doubleday being the senior captain, his battery took the first tour.

  There were three points to be fired upon,—the Morris Island batteries, the James Island ba
tteries, and the Sullivan’s Island batteries. With these last was included the famous iron-clad floating battery, which had taken up a position off the western end of Sullivan’s Island to command the left flank of Sumter. Captain Doubleday divided his men into three parties: the first, under his own immediate command, was marched to the casemate guns bearing on Morris Island; the second, under Lieutenant Jefferson C. Davis, manned the casemate guns bearing on the James Island batteries; and the third—without a commissioned officer until Dr. Crawford joined it—was marched by a sergeant4 to the guns bearing on Sullivan’s Island. The guns in the lower tier, which were the only ones used during the bombardment,—except surreptitiously without orders,—were 32 and 42-pounders, and some curiosity was felt as to the effect of such shot on the iron-clad battery. The gunners made excellent practice, but the shot were seen to bounce off its sides like peas. After battering it for about an hour and a half, no visible effect had been produced, although it had perceptibly slackened its fire, perhaps to save ammunition. But it was evident that throwing 32-pounder shot at it, at a mile range, was a waste of iron, and the attention of the gunners was transferred to Fort Moultrie.

  Moultrie was, perhaps, a less satisfactory target than the iron-clad. It was literally buried under sand-bags, the very throats of the embrasures being closed with cotton-bales. The use of cotton-bales was very effective as against shot, but would have been less so against shell. The fact that the embrasures were thus closed was not known in Sumter till after the bombardment. It explained what was otherwise inexplicable. Shot would be seen to strike an embrasure, and the gunner would feel that he had settled one gun for certain, but even while he was receiving the congratulations of his comrades the supposed disabled gun would reply. That the cotton-bales could not be seen from Sumter is not surprising. The sand-bag casemates which covered the guns were at least eighteen feet thick, and the cotton-bale shutter was no doubt arranged to slide up and down like a portcullis inside the pile of sand-bags. The gunners of Sumter, not knowing of the existence of these shutters, directed their shot either on the embrasures for the purpose of disabling the enemy’s guns, or so as to graze the sand-bag parapet for the purpose of reaching the interior of the work. The practice was very good, but the effect, for reasons already stated, was inconsiderable.

  THE IRON-CLAD FLOATING BATTERY. FROM A PLAN BY COLONEL JOSEPH A. YATES.

  At the end of the first four hours, Doubleday’s men were relieved from the guns and had an opportunity to look about them. Not a man was visible near any of the batteries, but a large party, apparently of non-combatants, had collected on the beach of Sullivan’s Island, well out of the line of fire, to witness the duel between Sumter and Moultrie. Doubleday’s men were not in the best of temper. They were irritated at the thought that they had been unable to inflict any serious damage on their adversary, and although they had suffered no damage in return they were dissatisfied. The crowd of unsympathetic spectators was more than they could bear, and two veteran sergeants determined to stir them up a little. For this purpose they directed two 42-pounders on the crowd, and, when no officer was near, fired. The first shot struck about fifty yards short, and, bounding over the heads of the astonished spectators, went crashing through the Moultrie House. The second followed an almost identical course, doing no damage except to the Moultrie House, and the spectators scampered off in a rather undignified manner. The Moultrie House was flying a yellow flag at the time, and the Charleston newspapers discoursed upon the barbarity of firing upon a hospital flag, forgetting, perhaps, that we also had a hospital in Sumter, which they treated to red-hot shot during the bombardment. Of course, none of the officers of Sumter knew anything about the two 42-pounder shots.

  The smoke which enveloped the Confederate batteries during the first day, while not so thick as entirely to obscure them, was sufficiently so to make visual aiming extremely unreliable; and during the second day, when Sumter was on fire, nothing could be seen beyond the muzzles of our own guns. But the aiming arrangements, due to the foresight and ingenuity of Captain Doubleday, enabled us to fire with as much accuracy when we could not see the object as when we could.

  Early on the first day several vessels of the fleet were observed off the bar, and orders were given to dip the flag to them. This was done, and the salute was returned, but while our flag was being hoisted after the third dip, a shell burst near the flag-staff and cut the halliards. This accident put the flag beyond our control. It ran down until the kinky halliards jammed in the pulley at the mast-head, and the flag remained at about half-staff. This has been interpreted as a signal of distress, but it was only an accident. There was no special distress in Sumter, and no signal to that effect was intended.

  Major Anderson had given orders that only the casemate batteries should be manned. While this was undoubtedly prompted by a desire to save his men, it operated also, in some degree, to save the Confederates. Our most powerful batteries and all our shell guns were on the barbette tier, and, being forbidden their use, we were compelled to oppose a destructive shell fire with solid shot alone. This, especially as we had no mortars, was a great disadvantage. Had we been permitted to use our shell guns we could have set fire to the barracks and quarters in Moultrie; for, as it was, we wrecked them badly with solid shot, although we could not see them. Then the cotton-bale shutters would have been destroyed, and we could have made it much livelier generally for our adversaries. This was so apparent to the men, that one of them—a man named Carmody—stole up on the ramparts and deliberately fired every barbette gun in position on the Moultrie side of the work. The guns were already loaded and roughly aimed, and Carmody simply discharged them in succession; hence, the effect was less than it would have been if the aim had been carefully rectified. But Carmody’s effort aroused the enemy to a sense of his danger. He supposed, no doubt, that Major Anderson had determined to open his barbette batteries, so he directed every gun to bear on the barbette tier of Fort Sumter, and probably believed that the vigor of his fire induced Major Anderson to change his mind. But the contest was merely Carmody against the Confederate States; and Carmody had to back down, not because he was beaten, but because he was unable, single-handed, to reload his guns.

  Another amusing incident in this line occurred on the Morris Island side of the fort. There, in the gorge angle, a ten-inch columbiad was mounted, en barbette, and as the 42-pounders of the casemate battery were making no impression on the Cumming’s Point iron battery, the two veteran sergeants who had surreptitiously fired upon the spectators, as already related, determined to try a shot at the iron battery from the big gun. As this was a direct violation of orders, caution was necessary. Making sure that the major was out of the way, and that no officers were near, the two sergeants stole upstairs to the ten-inch gun. It was loaded and aimed already, they very well knew, so all they would have to do was to fire it. This was the work of a few seconds only. The gun was fired, and those in the secret down below watched the flight of the shot in great expectations of decided results. Unfortunately the shot missed; not a bad shot—almost grazing the crest of the battery—but a miss. A little less elevation, a very little, and the battery would have been smashed: so thought the sergeants, for they had great faith in the power of their gun; and they determined to try a second shot. The gun was reloaded, a feat of some difficulty for two men, but to run it “in battery” was beyond their powers. It required the united efforts of six men to throw the carriage “in gear,” and the two sergeants could not budge it. Things were getting desperate around them. The secessionists had noticed the first shot, and had now turned every gun that would bear on that ten-inch gun. They were just getting the range, and it was beginning to be uncomfortable for the sergeants, who in a fit of desperation determined to fire the gun “as she was.” The elevating screw was given half a turn less elevation, and the primer was inserted in the vent. Then one of the sergeants ran down the spiral stairs to see if the coast were clear, leaving his comrade in a very uncomfortable position
at the end of the lanyard, and lying flat on the floor. It was getting hotter up there every second, and a perfect hurricane of shot was sweeping over the prostrate soldier. Human nature could stand it no longer. The lanyard was pulled and the gun was fired. The other sergeant was hastening up the stairway, and had almost reached the top, when he met the gun coming down, or at least trying to. Having been fired “from battery,” it had recoiled over the counter-hurters, and, turning a back somersault, had landed across the head of the stairway. Realizing in a moment what had happened, and what would be to pay if they were found out, the second sergeant crept to the head of the stairway and called his comrade, who, scared almost to death,—not at the danger he was in, but at the accident,—was still hugging the floor with the lanyard in his hand. Both got safely down, swearing eternal secrecy to each other; and it is doubtful if Major Anderson ever knew how that ten-inch gun came to be dismounted. It is proper to add that the shot was a capital one, striking just under the middle embrasure of the iron battery and half covering it with sand. If it had been a trifle higher it would have entered the embrasure.

  The first night of the bombardment was one of great anxiety. The fleet might send reënforcements; the enemy might attempt an assault. Both would come in boats; both would answer in English. It would be horrible to fire upon friends; it would be fatal not to fire upon enemies. The night was dark and chilly. Shells were dropping into the fort at regular intervals, and the men were tired, hungry, and out of temper. Any party that approached that night would have been rated as enemies upon general principles. Fortunately nobody appeared; reveille sounded, and the men oiled their appetites with the fat pork at the usual hour by way of breakfast.

  The second day’s bombardment began at the same hour as did the first; that is, on the Sumter side. The enemy’s mortars had kept up a very slow fire all night, which gradually warmed up after daylight as their batteries seemed to awaken, until its vigor was about equal to their fire of the day before. The fleet was still off the bar—perhaps waiting to see the end. Fire broke out once or twice in the officers’ quarters, and was extinguished. It broke out again in several places at once, and we realized the truth and let the quarters burn. They were firing red-hot shot. This was about 9 o’clock. As soon as Sumter was noticed to be on fire the secessionists increased the fire of their batteries to a maximum. In the perfect storm of shot and shell that beat upon us from all sides, the flag-staff was shot down, but the old flag was rescued and nailed to a new staff. This, with much difficulty, was carried to the ramparts and lashed to some chassis piled up there for a traverse.