DUPONT'S EXPEDITION TO HILTON HEAD AND PORT ROYAL. -- THE FIERY
CIRCLE.
The great joint naval and military expedition, which in August, 1861,
had reduced the forts at Hatteras Inlet, and, continuing its progress,
had, by successive victories, brought Roanoke Island, Newbern,
Elizabeth City, and the Sounds of Pamlico and Albemarle under the sway
of the Federal Government, was but the first of a series of
expeditions intended to drive the Confederates from the Atlantic
seaboard, and secure for the United States vessels safe harbors and
coaling stations in the bays and inlets along the South Atlantic
coast. The proper maintenance of the blockade made it necessary that
the seaboard should be in the hands of the Federals. For a blockader
off Charleston or Wilmington to be forced to return to Hampton Roads
to coal or to make repairs, would entail the loss of weeks, perhaps
months, of valuable time. Besides, the sounds and inlets with which
that irregular coast is honeycombed were of great use to the
Confederates, who could construct at their leisure great rams like the
"Merrimac" or "Albemarle," and hurl them against the fleet with the
hope of breaking the blockade. Such opportunities were eagerly seized
by the Confederates whenever offered; and in many cases the defeating
of their purposes seems almost providential, so great was the seeming
disparity between the attacking ram and the forces which finally
repulsed it.
In reviewing the part of the navy in the civil war, we find that it
acted like a great iron band, ever drawing closer and closer about the
Confederacy, forcing the Southern armies from one point after another,
until at last the whole coast was in the hands of the Unionists, and
the Confederates were driven into the interior, there to be dealt with
by the Northern armies. One is reminded of that iron chamber in Poe's
story, which day by day grows smaller and smaller, until the wretched
prisoner within is forced into the pit yawning in the centre. So,
during the war, the Confederates lost Hatteras Inlet, Roanoke Island,
Hilton Head, Fernandina, Mobile, New Orleans, and Galveston
comparatively early in the struggle. Wilmington, behind the almost
impregnable bastions of Fort Fisher, and Charleston, surrounded by a
cordon of defensive forts, remained the last strongholds of the
Confederacy on the Atlantic coast, until the final downfall of the
great uprising.
Shortly after the capture of the Hatteras Forts, the navy department
saw the need of a harbor and base of naval operations farther south.
Charleston, with its powerful defences, was deemed impregnable at that
time; and elaborate descriptions of the Southern coast were prepared,
setting forth the advantages and disadvantages of available Southern
ports. Fernandina, Brunswick, Port Royal, and Bull's Bay, were duly
considered; and, while the Navy Department was debating which point to
seize, Admiral Dupont was diligently fitting out an expedition to be
in readiness to attack any that should be determined upon. Up to the
last moment it was thought that Fernandina would be selected. But
finally, with the advice of Gen. Sherman, it was determined to make
the attempt to wrest Port Royal from the Confederates.
Port Royal is the general name given to a broad body of water formed
by the confluence of the Broad and Beaufort Rivers, and opening into
the Atlantic Ocean on the South Carolina coast, about midway between
Charleston and Savannah. No more beautiful region is to be found in
the world. Far enough south to escape the rigors of the northern
winters, and far enough north to be free from the enervating heat of
the tropics; honeycombed by broad, salt-water lagoons, giving moisture
and mildness to the air,--the country about Port Royal is like a great
garden; and even to-day, ravaged though it was by the storms of war,
it shows many traces of its former beauty. It is in this region that
are found the famous Sea Islands, on which grows cotton so much more
fleecy and fine of fibre than the product of the interior, that it is
known the world over as Sea Island cotton, and sells at the highest
price in the markets of England. In '61 the islands bore the great
hospitable manor-houses of the Southern planters; broad of rooms and
wide of piazzas, and always open for the entertainment of travellers,
were they friends or strangers. The planters living there were among
the wealthiest in the South, at a time when all planters were wealthy.
They numbered their slaves by thousands. Standing on the broad piazza
of one of these Southern homes, one could see the rows of rough huts
that made up the negro quarters, and hear faintly the sound of the
banjo and rude negro melodies, mingling with the music of piano or
harp within the parlor of the mansion-house. Refined by education and
travel, the planters of the region about Port Royal made up a courtly
society, until war burst upon them, and reduced their estates to
wildernesses, and themselves to beggary.
At the head of the Beaufort River stood the little town of Beaufort.
Before the war this was a thriving place; its magnificent harbor made
it easily accessible for the largest merchant-ships, and the richly
productive country round about furnished heavy cargoes of the fleecy
staple that gave to the South the name of the "cotton kingdom." On
Saturdays and holidays the broad streets of Beaufort would be crowded
with carriages and horsemen from the neighboring plantations. The
planters, in broad-brimmed hats and suits of snowy linen, thronged the
broad piazzas of the hotel, or grouped together in the shade of the
spreading trees that lined the streets, discussing the cotton crops
and prices. Now all is changed. Beaufort is a sleepy little village,
with no sign of trade, domestic or foreign; and the country round
about, once dotted with handsome plantation homes, now seems a very
wilderness, save where Northerners have erected for themselves winter
homes on the Sea Islands.
[Illustration: Fortress Monroe.]
It was late in October, 1861, when the final determination to attack
the forts at Port Royal was reached. For weeks before, the squadron
lying at Hampton Roads had been making preparations for a great naval
movement, and all the newspapers of the North were filled with wise
speculations as to its objective point. Reporters, correspondents, and
editors were alike baffled in their efforts to secure accurate
information; and even the commanders of the men-of-war were ignorant
of their destination. But it seems that the Confederates were warned
by some of their sympathizers in Washington, and the destination of
the fleet was better known south of Mason and Dixon's line than in the
North. On Tuesday, Oct. 29, the squadron was all ready for the voyage.
It was by far the most powerful fleet ever gathered under the flag of
the United States. Twenty-five vessels laden with coal had sailed the
day before. On the placid waters of the bay, under the frowning walls
of Fortress Monroe, floated fifty men-of-war and transports. The day
was clear, and the breeze brisk, and the hearts of the jolly jack-tars
bounded within them as they thought of escaping from the long
inactivity of a season in port. Long-boats bearing despatches rowed
from ship to ship; hucksters from the shore came off in dories,
dingies, and all variety of queer craft, to drive a farewell bargain
with the sailors. The transport vessels were crowded with soldiers in
the gay uniforms of militia commands. (It was early in the war then,
and they had not learned that a man could fight as well in dingy
rags.) The "Wabash" was flagship, and aboard her was Admiral DuPont.
When she made the signal for getting under way, all was bustle and
animation on all the other vessels of the fleet, and on all sides
could be heard the noise of preparation for the start. The boatswains
piped away cheerily; and a steady tramp, tramp, from the deck of each
ship, and the clicking of the capstan catches, told that the anchors
were coming up. Soon from the black funnels of the steamers clouds of
smoke began to pour, and in the rigging of the sail frigates were
crowds of nimble sailors. The commands "All ready! Let fall!" rang
sharply over the water from the ships. Broad sheets of snowy canvas
appeared where before were but ropes and spars, and in a moment the
whole squadron was under way. The steamers led off briskly, with much
churning of the water by their paddle-wheels and "brazen-fins;" after
them followed the magnificent sailing frigates, with sail set,--lofty
masses of canvas towering toward the skies, and moving with stately
grace. At the very head of all went the flagship, the grand old
"Wabash," with the flag of Admiral DuPont floating from the fore. None
of the commanders knew whither they were bound. All were to follow the
flagship, and in event of separation to refer to sealed orders with
which each was provided. For the first day all went well. The promise
of fair weather given by the beautiful day of starting seemed about to
be fulfilled. But on the second night, as they came near the terrible
region of Cape Hatteras, the wind began to freshen, and continued
increasing in fierceness until it fairly blew a gale. The night was
pitchy dark, and the crews on the vessels could hardly see the craft
by which they were surrounded. Great as was the danger of being cast
on the treacherous shoals of Hatteras, the peril of instant
destruction by collision was even more imminent. Fifty vessels,
heavily freighted with human lives, were pitching and tossing within a
few rods of each other, and within a few miles of a lee shore. It
seemed that the destruction of a large number of the vessels was
unavoidable; and the sailors may be pardoned, if, remembering the
mishaps of the Burnside expedition, they conceived Hatteras to be
tenanted by an evil spirit, determined to prevent the invasion of
Confederate territory. To add to the danger, the Confederates had
extinguished the warning light at the Cape, and the navigators of the
fleet had nothing to guide them in their course. When morning came,
the fleet was pretty well scattered, although still many vessels were
near enough together to be in no small danger. The transport "Winfield
Scott," which carried four hundred and fifty soldiers, besides a large
crew, was observed to be rolling heavily, and flying signals of
distress. From the decks of the "Bienville," the nearest steamer, the
officers with their glasses could see the crew of the distressed
vessel working like beavers, throwing overboard every thing of weight
to lighten the ship. Notwithstanding all their efforts, she was
clearly water-logged, and sunk so low in the water that wave after
wave broke over her decks, every now and then sweeping a man away to
sure death in the raging sea. It seemed folly to attempt to launch
lifeboats in such a furious sea, but the captain of the "Bienville"
determined to make the attempt to save the men on the doomed "Winfield
Scott." The crew was piped to quarters, and the captain asked for
volunteers to go to the rescue. Man after man stepped forward, until
enough had been secured to man three boats with ten men each.
Carefully the boats were dropped into the sea, and man after man swung
into them; then they put off and started for the sinking ship. But
while these preparations were being made, the two ships had been
drifting closer and closer together. Soon it was seen that a collision
was inevitable. Fortunately the boats were broadside on, so that the
cutting effect of a blow from the bow was avoided. They were presently
so near each other that the men began jumping from the deck of the
"Winfield Scot" upon that of the "Bienville." The leap, though a
perilous one, was made in safety by over thirty men. Suddenly a great
wave lifted the ships up and dashed them together. Three poor
wretches, just about to jump, were caught between the vessels and
crushed to death. A few sharp cries of agony, and all was over; and
the vessels, drifting apart, let their bodies, crushed beyond
recognition, fall into the water. By this time the small boats, with
their determined crews on board, had succeeded in getting around to
the lee side of the sinking ship, and the work of getting the soldiers
and sailors over the side was begun. By the most strenuous efforts all
were saved, and the "Bienville" steamed away, leaving the "Winfield
Scott" to her fate.
[Illustration: Du Pont's Expedition off Cape Hatteras.]
Night came on, with the gale blowing with still greater fury. The wind
shrieked through the cordage, and now and again a great wave would
sweep across the decks of the crowded vessels, making the men hang on
to the rigging for dear life. Soon another ship began to go to pieces.
The "Governor," which had been steaming along near the "Wabash"
since the time of leaving Hampton Roads, had become separated from
her consort during the gale of the first day. On the second night,
those aboard her perceived that she was showing signs of weakness, and
was likely to go down with all on board unless aid could be obtained.
Not a sail, however, was in sight; and every wave seemed about to
overwhelm or dash to pieces the frail craft. She labored heavily in
the furious sea. By and by the strain on her timbers was such that the
port hog-brace broke in two places, weakening the vessel so that her
fate was apparent to all. Soldiers and sailors worked away with a
frantic energy born by the fear of death, and succeeded in bracing up
the timbers, so as to avoid, for a time, the breaking-up. Soon after,
a heavy roll of the vessel broke the smokestack, and it was pitched
overboard. Luckily it broke some three feet above the deck, so that
the fires could still be kept up. Then the steam-pipe burst; and with
this accident the fate of all on board seemed sealed, for they no
longer could keep the vessel's head to the waves, and the great seas
came rolling over her, sweeping her decks of every thing movable. They
began sending up rockets, and, after some time of anxious waiting, saw
an answering signal; so that, through the remainder of that fearful
night, the men on the doomed ship felt that, whatever might occur,
they had friends at hand. The night was spent in toil at the pumps;
and in the morning a faint cheer went up as two vessels were seen,
ready to lend assistance. A signal of distress, quickly hoisted, was
answered from the nearer, which proved to be the "Isaac P. Smith." The
"Smith" sent off a boat and made fast a hawser to the wreck, and took
her in tow; but in a few minutes the hawser parted. It became clear
that the men must be taken off the sinking ship; but how to do it, was
the question. By this time a second ship, the "Young Rover," had
arrived to assist in the rescue. A second cable was put aboard; but
this, too, parted. Hope seemed lost, when the lookout reported a third
ship, the frigate "Sabine," coming to the rescue. The "Sabine" came to
anchor, and sent a hawser aboard the sinking "Governor." Then the
hawser was gradually taken in until the two ships lay close together,
stern to stern. Spars were rigged over the stern of the frigate, and
some thirty men swung over the seething waters to safety. Then the two
vessels came together with a crash, and about forty men sprang from
the sinking ship to the deck of the frigate. But the damage done by
the collision was so great that it was deemed prudent to slack up the
hawser and let the "Governor" drop astern again. Those on board
busied themselves throwing overboard all things movable, with the
intention of lightening the vessel. After some hours of suspense, the
work of getting the men off the sinking craft was recommenced, and
boats were sent to their assistance. The sea was running too high for
them to approach close to the steamer's guards, so they lay off some
feet, and the soldiers jumped into them. It was a perilous leap, with
the boats pitching one way, and the ship another, and a raging sea of
tossing waters between; but it was made bravely by every man, and but
seven or eight were lost. Soon after the last man left the "Governor,"
she lurched to one side and sank, carrying with her the arms and
ammunition of the troops she was transporting.
It was on Monday morning, Nov. 4, that the flagship "Wabash" cast
anchor off Port Royal. In the offing were a few more sail headed for
the same point, and during the day some twenty-five vessels of the
scattered squadron came up. For the next day ships were constantly
arriving, and by Tuesday night the whole squadron lay safely anchored
in the broad harbor.
The defences which the Confederates had erected upon Hilton Head, a
lofty bluff overlooking the harbor, were powerfully designed
earthworks, poorly armed and manned. The forts were two in number,
placed on a commanding elevation, and might have been made impregnable
had the Confederates taken advantage of the warning sent them by their
spies in Washington. Fort Walker had fourteen guns which could bear on
an attacking fleet, and Fort Beauregard had twenty. When the fight
began, the gunners found that most of their ammunition was either too
large or too small for the guns. To support the forts in their fight,
was a wretched little fleet of tugs and schooners, mounting a gun or
two each, but absolutely powerless before the smallest of Du Pont's
ships-of-war. Indeed, when the battle began, the Union navy gave its
undivided attention to the forts, and did not even give battle to
Tatnall's mosquito fleet.
Thursday morning dawned bright and mild as a morning in June. The
shores of the beautiful bay were covered with woods, out of which rung
the clear notes of Southern song-birds. The scene from the ships was
one of the most charming imaginable. The placid bay, the luxuriant
shores, the ocean showing across the low-lying ridge of white sand,
the forts frowning from the steep headland, the fleet of majestic
frigates mustered for the attack, and in the distance the flotilla of
defenceless transports, safely out of range, their decks and rigging
crowded with fifteen thousand men--all this presented a panorama of
life and beauty which few eyes have ever beheld.
[Illustration: The opening Gun.]
Du Pont, in the majestic "Wabash," moved down the bay, and, as he came
in range of Fort Walker, sent a shell shrieking from a bow-gun, as
signal that the action was begun. The old frigate moved on slowly,
making play with the bow-guns until abreast of the fort, when with a
crash she let fly her whole broadside. On she went for a few yards,
then turning in a grand circle came back, giving the other broadside
to the forts as she passed. The other ships fell in behind; and round
and round before the forts the fiery circle revolved, spitting out
fire and ponderous iron bolts, and making the peaceful shores of the
bay tremble with the deep reverberations of the cannon.
The Confederates, for their part, went into the action with the utmost
coolness. They had been assured that their position was impregnable,
and had been cautioned to be deliberate and determined in their
defence. For a time their artillery service was admirable. But soon
they found certain discouraging features about the affair. Their guns
were too light to have any effect on the fleet, and their powder was
of such bad quality that many of their shots fell short. Two great
guns dismounted themselves, seriously injuring the men who were
handling them, and the very first broadside from the fleet dismounted
several more. Then it was found that the shells for the great Parrott
guns were too large, and that the shells from other cannon failed to
explode, owing to defective fuses. Soon the fleet found a point of
fire from which it could enfilade the forts, and thereafter a perfect
hail of shell and grape-shot fell in the trenches. One shell disabled
eleven men. A solid shot struck a gun thought to be perfectly
protected, and hurled it, with the men serving it, over the parapet.
Every twenty minutes a gun was dismounted in Fort Walker, and at the
end of the conflict Fort Beauregard had but nine serviceable guns.
For about four hours there was no cessation of fire on the part of the
fleet. Round and round the circle the vessels steamed, giving one fort
a broadside on the way up, and the other a broadside on the way down.
The bombs rose from them in a majestic sweep through the air, and
plunged into the fort, exploding with a roar equal to that of a
cannon. One ship was commanded by Capt. Drayton, who rained shot and
shell mercilessly against the forts, although one of them was in
command of his own brother.
At half-past one Fort Walker was found untenable, and the work of
abandoning it was begun. The evacuation was completed in great haste,
many valuables were left behind, and not even the guns were spiked.
Still the entire garrison escaped to mainland, although the Federals
had three thousand troops who might have made them all prisoners. Not
long thereafter, Fort Beauregard also yielded to fate, and the day was
won by the Federals.
[Illustration: The Fight at Hilton Head.]
The landing of the troops was at once begun. Thirty large boats bore a
Connecticut regiment of one thousand men to the beach. Their bright,
fresh uniforms, their muskets glittering in the sun, and their
regular, swaying stride as they marched up the sandy beach to the
martial strains of the regimental band, made a striking picture.
They clambered over the ramparts, and in a few moments the stars and
stripes floated from the staff which had but lately upheld the flag of
the young Confederacy. Within the forts, all was carnage and
confusion: dismounted cannon, surrounded by the dead bodies of the
gunners, heaps of shells, and fragments of woodwork, were piled about
the parade-ground and in the trenches. The story of the terrific
bombardment was graphically told by those horrible evidences of death
and destruction. And well might the scene be a horrible one. For over
five hours, fifty shot a minute had been discharged at the forts, and
most of them did execution. When one recollects that each shot of the
great guns cost eight dollars, we get a vivid idea of the money spent
in war.
Immediately upon the capture of Hilton Head, the victors began making
it a great naval and military station. Great storehouses were built,
wharves constructed, and vast intrenchments thrown up for the defence
of the spot. The slaves, escaping from the neighboring plantations,
came in droves, begging to be allowed to work; but they received but a
cold welcome, for they were still looked upon as property, and the
officers did not wish to be charged with enticing them away from their
masters.
The news of the occupation of Hilton Head by the Northern armies
caused the greatest consternation in the cities of Charleston and
Savannah, From both places people fled into the interior, expecting an
immediate advance of the Union troops. But the armies were set to
digging, not to marching, and soon the affrighted citizens returned to
their homes. Port Royal was held by the Northern forces until the end
of the war, and proved of great value for the proper maintenance of
the blockade. Its greatest disadvantage was its unhealthiness. Of
fifteen thousand men landed there in November, five thousand were on
the sick-list within a month.