THE BOMBARDMENT.
The First Shot.--Defective Guns.--John Carmody's
Exploit.--Destructive Effects of the Bombardment.--Burning of the
Officers' Quarters.--Terrific Conflagration.
As soon as the outline of our fort could be distinguished, the enemy
carried out their programme. It had been arranged, as a special
compliment to the venerable Edmund Ruffin, who might almost be called
the father of secession, that he should fire the first shot against us,
from the Stevens battery on Cummings Point, and I think in all the
histories it is stated that he did so; but it is attested by Dr.
Crawford and others who were on the parapet at the time, that the first
shot really came from the mortar battery at Fort Johnson.[17] Almost
immediately afterward a ball from Cummings Point lodged in the magazine
wall, and by the sound seemed to bury itself in the masonry about a
foot from my head, in very unpleasant proximity to my right ear. This is
the one that probably came with Mr. Ruffin's compliments. In a moment
the firing burst forth in one continuous roar, and large patches of both
the exterior and interior masonry began to crumble and fall in all
directions. The place where I was had been used for the manufacture of
cartridges, and there was still a good deal of powder there, some packed
and some loose. A shell soon struck near the ventilator, and a puff of
dense smoke entered the room, giving me a strong impression that there
would be an immediate explosion. Fortunately, no sparks had penetrated
inside.
Nineteen batteries were now hammering at us, and the balls and shells
from the ten-inch columbiads, accompanied by shells from the
thirteen-inch mortars which constantly bombarded us, made us feel as if
the war had commenced in earnest.
When it was broad daylight, I went down to breakfast. I found the
officers already assembled at one of the long tables in the mess-hall.
Our party were calm, and even somewhat merry. We had retained one
colored man to wait on us. He was a spruce-looking mulatto from
Charleston, very active and efficient on ordinary occasions, but now
completely demoralized by the thunder of the guns and crashing of the
shot around us. He leaned back against the wall, almost white with fear,
his eyes closed, and his whole expression one of perfect despair.[18]
Our meal was not very sumptuous. It consisted of pork and water, but Dr.
Crawford triumphantly brought forth a little farina, which he had found
in a corner of the hospital.
When this frugal repast was over, my company was told off in three
details for firing purposes, to be relieved afterward by Seymour's
company. As I was the ranking officer, I took the first detachment, and
marched them to the casemates, which looked out upon the powerful
iron-clad battery of Cummings Point.
In aiming the first gun fired against the rebellion I had no feeling of
self-reproach, for I fully believed that the contest was inevitable, and
was not of our seeking. The United States was called upon not only to
defend its sovereignty, but its right to exist as a nation. The only
alternative was to submit to a powerful oligarchy who were determined to
make freedom forever subordinate to slavery. To me it was simply a
contest, politically speaking, as to whether virtue or vice should rule.
My first shot bounded off from the sloping roof of the battery opposite
without producing any apparent effect. It seemed useless to attempt to
silence the guns there; for our metal was not heavy enough to batter the
work down, and every ball glanced harmlessly off, except one, which
appeared to enter an embrasure and twist the iron shutter, so as to stop
the firing of that particular gun.
I observed that a group of the enemy had ventured out from their
intrenchments to watch the effect of their fire, but I sent them flying
back to their shelter by the aid of a forty-two-pounder ball, which
appeared to strike right in among them.
Assistant-surgeon Crawford, having no sick in hospital, volunteered to
take command of one of the detachments. He and Lieutenant Davis were
detailed at the same time with me; and I soon heard their guns on the
opposite side of the fort, echoing my own. They attacked Fort Moultrie
with great vigor.
Our firing now became regular, and was answered from the rebel guns
which encircled us on the four sides of the pentagon upon which the fort
was built. The other side faced the open sea. Showers of balls from
ten-inch columbiads and forty-two-pounders, and shells from
thirteen-inch mortars poured into the fort in one incessant stream,
causing great flakes of masonry to fall in all directions. When the
immense mortar shells, after sailing high in the air, came down in a
vertical direction, and buried themselves in the parade-ground, their
explosion shook the fort like an earthquake.[19]
Our own guns were very defective, as they had no breech-sights. In place
of these, Seymour and myself were obliged to devise notched sticks,
which answered the purpose, but were necessarily very imperfect.
Our fort had been built with reference to the penetration of shot when
the old system of smooth-bore guns prevailed. The balls from a new
Blakely gun on Cummings Point, however, had force enough to go entirely
through the wall which sheltered us, and some of the fragments of brick
which were knocked out wounded several of my detachment. None were
seriously hurt except Sergeant Thomas Kirnan, of my company. His
contusions were severe, but did not keep him out of the fight.
After three hours' firing, my men became exhausted, and Captain Seymour
came, with a fresh detachment, to relieve us. He has a great deal of
humor in his composition, and said, jocosely, "Doubleday, what in the
world is the matter here, and what is all this uproar about?"
I replied, "There is a trifling difference of opinion between us and our
neighbors opposite, and we are trying to settle it."
"Very well," he said; "do you wish me to take a hand?"
I said, "Yes, I would like to have you go in."
"All right," he said. "What is your elevation, and range?"
I replied, "Five degrees, and twelve hundred yards."
"Well," he said, "here goes!" And he went to work with a will.
Part of the fleet was visible outside the bar about half-past ten A.M.
It exchanged salutes with us, but did not attempt to enter the harbor,
or take part in the battle. In fact, it would have had considerable
difficulty in finding the channel, as the marks and buoys had all been
taken up. It was composed originally of the frigates _Pawnee_, under
Commodore Rowan; the _Pocahontas_, under Captain Gillis; the _Powhatan_,
under Captain Mercer; the steam transport _Baltic_, under Captain
Fletcher; and, I believe, the steam-tugs _Yankee_, _Uncle Ben_, and
another, which was not permitted to leave New York. The soldiers on
board consisted of two hundred and fifty recruits from Governor's
Island, under command of First Lieutenants E.M.K. Hudson, of the Fourth,
and Robert O. Tyler, of the Third Artillery, and Second Lieutenant A.I.
Thomas, of the First Infantry.
This expedition was designed by Captain Fox, in consultation with G.W.
Blunt, William H. Aspinwall, Russel Sturges, and others. After the
event much obloquy was thrown upon the navy because it did not come in
and engage the numerous batteries and forts, and open for itself a way
to Charleston; but this course would probably have resulted in the
sinking of every vessel.
As far back as December I had written to New York that it was very
difficult for a gun on shore to hit a small boat dancing on the waves in
the daytime, and at night it is almost impossible. I suggested,
therefore, that we might be re-enforced and provisioned by means of a
number of small boats, supplied from several naval vessels as a base of
operations. The same idea had occurred to Captain Fox; and on the
present occasion he had brought thirty launches to be used for this
purpose. They were to be manned by three hundred sailors, and in case
they were assailed, the fleet was to protect them as far as possible by
its guns. Unfortunately, the different vessels did not reach the
rendezvous together. The _Pawnee_ and _Pocahontas_ arrived on the 12th,
but lost a great deal of time in waiting for the _Powhatan_, which
contained the launches and other arrangements, without which a boat
expedition could not be organized. The _Powhatan_ never appeared,
having been unexpectedly detached, by order of the President, at the
solicitation of Secretary Seward, and without consultation with the Navy
Department. I think the _Baltic_ was detained by running upon
Rattlesnake Shoal. The steam-tug _Uncle Ben_ was driven into Wilmington
by a storm, and the _Yankee_ did not make its appearance until the 15th.
The expedition was thus an utter failure. Nevertheless, a passing
schooner was purchased and loaded up with provisions and soldiers, and
an attempt would have been made to run in on the night of the 13th, but
by that time it was too late. The fort had surrendered.
Having explained this matter, we will now resume the narrative of our
operations. For the next three hours a vigorous fire was kept up on both
sides. A great many shots were aimed at our flag-staff, but nearly all
of them passed above the fort and struck in the water beyond. I think we
succeeded in silencing several guns in Fort Moultrie, and one or more in
the Stevens battery.
When Seymour's three hours were up, I relieved him, and continued the
firing. As our balls bounded off the sloping iron rails like peas upon a
trencher, utterly failing to make any impression, and as the shot from
the Blakely gun came clear through our walls, Anderson directed that the
men should cease firing at that particular place. I regretted very much
that the upper tier of guns had been abandoned, as they were all loaded
and pointed, and were of very heavy calibre. A wild Irish soldier,
however, named John Carmody, slipped up on the parapet, and, without
orders, fired the pieces there, one after another, on his own account.
One of the ten-inch balls so aimed made quite an impression on the
Cummings Point battery; and if the fire could have been kept up, it
might possibly have knocked the iron-work to pieces.
After my detachment had abandoned the casemate opposite the Blakely gun,
to my great astonishment the battery I had left recommenced firing. I
could not imagine who could have taken our places. It seems that a group
of the Baltimore workmen had been watching our motions, and had thus
learned the duties of a cannoneer. In spite of their previous
determination not to take part in the fight, they could not resist the
fun of trying their hand at one of the guns. It was already accurately
pointed, and the ball struck the mark in the centre. The men attributed
it to their own skill, and when I entered they were fairly in
convulsions of laughter. One of them, in answer to my question, gasped
out, "I hit it square in the middle." After this first attempt, each of
them was desirous of trying his skill at aiming. The result was, that we
soon had them organized into a firing-party.
Finding one of my chests had been left in the officers' quarters, and
that it would probably be knocked to pieces by the shells, I asked the
mulatto, who still sat back against the wall, apparently asleep, to bear
a hand and help me bring it out. He opened his eyes, shook his head
dolefully, and said, "De major, he say, I muss not expose myself."
If I mistake not, Roswell S. Ripley, formerly a brevet major in our
army, fired the second or third shot to bring down the flag under which
he had served for so many years. Ripley was born in Ohio, appointed from
New York, and educated at the Military Academy. He had, therefore, even
on the Southern theory of State rights, no necessary affiliation with
the South. In fact, they always despised a man who joined them to fight
against his own State. In one instance, Jeff Davis himself had to use
all his influence to induce the Southern troops to obey one of these
Northern generals. Ripley had previously been engaged as an agent for
Sharpe's Arms Company in Europe; and, having been unsuccessful there,
came to Charleston, with the hope of repairing his shattered fortunes by
selling guns to South Carolina. Through the influence of Colonel Huger,
of our Ordnance Department, who was in the city at the time, Ripley
failed in this, and, being entirely out of employment, accepted a
commission from the Confederacy to fight against his old comrades. Being
a man of talent, and a skillful artillerist, he did us a great deal of
harm. Like all Northern converts, he thought it necessary to be
overzealous in his new position, to do away with the suspicions excited
by his birth and education. I was told at the time that for this purpose
he took pains to denounce me as an Abolitionist, and to recommend that I
be hanged by the populace as soon as caught.
The firing continued all day, without any special incident of
importance, and without our making much impression on the enemy's works.
They had a great advantage over us, as their fire was concentrated on
the fort, which was in the centre of the circle, while ours was diffused
over the circumference. Their missiles were exceedingly destructive to
the upper exposed portion of the work, but no essential injury was done
to the lower casemates which sheltered us.
Some of these shells, however, set the officers' quarters on fire three
times; but the flames were promptly extinguished once or twice through
the exertions of Peter Hart, whose activity and gallantry were very
conspicuous.
The night was an anxious one for us, for we thought it probable that the
launches, filled with armed men from the fleet, might take advantage of
the darkness to come in with provisions and supplies. Then, too, it was
possible that the enemy might attempt a night attack. We were on the
alert, therefore, with men stationed at all the embrasures; but nothing
unusual occurred. The batteries fired upon us at stated intervals all
night long. We did not return the fire, having no ammunition to waste.
On the morning of the 13th, we took our breakfast--or, rather, our pork
and water--at the usual hour, and marched the men to the guns when the
meal was over.
From 4 to 6.30 A.M. the enemy's fire was very spirited. From 7 to 8 A.M.
a rain-storm came on, and there was a lull in the cannonading. About 8
A.M. the officers' quarters were ignited by one of Ripley's incendiary
shells, or by shot heated in the furnaces at Fort Moultrie. The fire was
put out; but at 10 A.M. a mortar shell passed through the roof, and
lodged in the flooring of the second story, where it burst, and started
the flames afresh. This, too, was extinguished; but the hot shot soon
followed each other so rapidly that it was impossible for us to contend
with them any longer. It became evident that the entire block, being
built with wooden partitions, floors, and roofing, must be consumed, and
that the magazine, containing three hundred barrels of powder, would be
endangered; for, even after closing the metallic door, sparks might
penetrate through the ventilator. The floor was covered with loose
powder, where a detail of men had been at work manufacturing
cartridge-bags out of old shirts, woolen blankets, etc.
While the officers exerted themselves with axes to tear down and cut
away all the wood-work in the vicinity, the soldiers were rolling
barrels of powder out to more sheltered spots, and were covering them
with wet blankets. The labor was accelerated by the shells which were
bursting around us; for Ripley had redoubled his activity at the first
signs of a conflagration. We only succeeded in getting out some
ninety-six barrels of powder, and then we were obliged to close the
massive copper door, and await the result. A shot soon after passed
through the intervening shield, struck the door, and bent the lock in
such a way that it could not be opened again. We were thus cut off from
our supply of ammunition, but still had some piled up in the vicinity of
the guns. Anderson officially reported only four barrels and three
cartridges as on hand when we left.
By 11 A.M. the conflagration was terrible and disastrous. One-fifth of
the fort was on fire, and the wind drove the smoke in dense masses into
the angle where we had all taken refuge. It seemed impossible to escape
suffocation. Some lay down close to the ground, with handkerchiefs over
their mouths, and others posted themselves near the embrasures, where
the smoke was somewhat lessened by the draught of air. Every one
suffered severely. I crawled out of one of these openings, and sat on
the outer edge; but Ripley made it lively for me there with his
case-shot, which spattered all around. Had not a slight change of wind
taken place, the result might have been fatal to most of us.
Our firing having ceased, and the enemy being very jubilant, I thought
it would be as well to show them that we were not all dead yet, and
ordered the gunners to fire a few rounds more. I heard afterward that
the enemy loudly cheered Anderson for his persistency under such adverse
circumstances.
The scene at this time was really terrific. The roaring and crackling of
the flames, the dense masses of whirling smoke, the bursting of the
enemy's shells, and our own which were exploding in the burning rooms,
the crashing of the shot, and the sound of masonry falling in every
direction, made the fort a pandemonium. When at last nothing was left of
the building but the blackened walls and smoldering embers, it became
painfully evident that an immense amount of damage had been done. There
was a tower at each angle of the fort. One of these, containing great
quantities of shells, upon which we had relied, was almost completely
shattered by successive explosions. The massive wooden gates, studded
with iron nails, were burned, and the wall built behind them was now a
mere heap of debris, so that the main entrance was wide open for an
assaulting party. The sally-ports were in a similar condition, and the
numerous windows on the gorge side, which had been planked up, had now
become all open entrances.
About 12.48 P.M. the end of the flag-staff was shot down, and the flag
fell.[20] It had been previously hanging by one halliard, the other
having been cut by a piece of shell. The exultation of the enemy,
however, was short-lived. Peter Hart found a spar in the fort, which
answered very well as a temporary flag-staff. He nailed the flag to
this, and raised it triumphantly by nailing and tying the pole firmly to
a pile of gun-carriages on the parapet. This was gallantly done, without
undue haste, under Seymour's supervision, although the enemy
concentrated all their fire upon the spot to prevent Hart from carrying
out his intention. From the beginning, the rebel gunners had been very
ambitious to shoot the flag down, and had wasted an immense number of
shots in the attempt.
While the battle was going on, a correspondent of the _New York
Tribune_, who was in Charleston, wrote that the populace were calling
for my head. Fortunately, I was not there to gratify them. My relations
with the gentlemen of Charleston had always been friendly. The enmity of
the mob was simply political, and was founded on the belief that I was
the only "Black Republican," as they termed it, in the fort.