A VISIT TO FORT SUMTER.
One morning I went on board the government supply steamer “Mayflower,”
plying between the city and the forts below. As we steamed down to the
rows of piles, driven across the harbor to compel vessels to pass under
the guns of the forts, I noticed that they were so nearly eaten off by
worms that, had the war continued a year or two longer, it would have
been necessary to replace them. There is in these Southern waters an
insect very destructive to the wood it comes in contact with. It cannot
live in fresh water, and boats, the bottoms of which are not sheathed,
or covered with tar, are taken occasionally up the rivers, to get rid of
it. Only the palmetto is able to resist its ravages; of the tough logs
of which the wharves of Charleston are constructed.
Fort Sumter loomed before us, an enormous mass of ruins. We approached
on the northeast side, which appeared covered with blotches and patches
of a most extraordinary description, commemorating the shots of our
monitors. The notches in the half-demolished wall were mended with
gabions. On the southeast side not an angle, not a square foot of the
original octagonal wall remained, but in its place was an irregular
steeply sloping bank of broken bricks, stones, and sand,—a
half-pulverized mountain, on which no amount of shelling could have any
other effect than to pulverize it still more.
I could now readily understand the Rebel boast, that Fort Sumter, after
each attack upon it, was stronger than ever. Stronger for defence, as
far as its walls were concerned, it undoubtedly was; but where were the
double rows of portholes for heavy ordnance, and the additional
loopholes on the south side for musketry? Our guns had faithfully
smashed everything of that kind within their range.
On the northwest side, facing the city, the perpendicular lofty wall
stands in nearly its original condition, its scientific proportions, of
stupendous solid masonry, astonishing us by their contrast with the
other sides. Between this wall and the wreck of a Rebel steamer, shot
through and sunk whilst bringing supplies to the fort, we landed. By
flights of wooden steps we reached the summit, and looked down into the
huge crater within. This is a sort of irregular amphitheatre, with
sloping banks of gabions and rubbish on all sides save one. On the
southeast side, where the exterior of the fort received the greatest
damage from the guns on Morris Island, the interior received the least.
There are no casemates left, except on that side. In the centre stands
the flag-staff, bearing aloft the starry symbol of the national power,
once humbled here, and afterwards trailed long through bloody dust, to
float again higher and haughtier than ever, on those rebellious shores.
Who, that loves his country, can look upon it there without a thrill?
The fort is built upon a mole, which is flooded by high-water. It was
half-tide that morning, and climbing down the slope of the southeast
embankment, I walked upon the beach below,—or rather upon the litter of
old iron that strewed it thick as pebble-stones. It was difficult to
step without placing the foot upon a rusty cannon-ball or the fragment
of a shell. The curling waves broke upon beds of these iron debris,
extending far down out of sight into the sea. I suggested to an officer
that this would be a valuable mine to work, and was told that the right
to collect the old iron around the fort had already been sold to a
speculator for thirty thousand dollars.
The following statement of the cost to the United States of some of the
forts seized by the Rebels, and of others they would have been glad to
seize, but could not see their way clear to do so, will interest a few
readers.
Fort Moultrie, $87,601. (Evacuated by Major Anderson Dec. 26th, 1860.)
Castle Pinckney, $53,809. (Seized by South Carolina State troops, Dec.
27th, 1860.)
Fort Sumter, $977,404.
Fort Pulaski, at the mouth of the Savannah River, $988,859. (Seized by
order of Governor Brown, Jan. 3d, 1861.)
Fort Morgan, Mobile Harbor, $1,242,552. (Seized Jan. 4th, 1861.)
Fort Gaines, opposite, $221,500. (Same fate.)
Fort Jackson, on the Mississippi, below New Orleans, $837,608. Its
fellow, Fort St. Philip, $258,734. (Both seized Jan. 10th, 1861.)
Fort Warren, Boston Harbor, $1,208,000. (Not convenient for the Rebels
to appropriate.)
Fortress Monroe, the most expensive, as it is the largest of our forts,
$2,476,771. (Taken by Jeff Davis in May, 1865, under peculiar
circumstances, and still occupied by him at this date, May, 1866.)
I found eighty-five United States soldiers in Sumter: a mere handful,
yet they were five more than the garrison that held it at the time of
Beauregard’s bombardment in April, 1861. My mind went back to those
earlier days, and to that other little band. How anxiously we had
watched the newspapers, week after week, to see if the Rebels would
_dare_ to execute their threats! Even the children caught the
excitement, and asked eagerly, as papa came home at night with the news,
“Is Fort Sumter attackted?” At last the defiant act was done, and what a
raging, roaring fire it kindled all over the land! How our hearts
throbbed in sympathy with Major Anderson and his seventy-nine heroes!
Major, Colonel, General Anderson,—well might he step swiftly up the
degrees of rank, for he was already atop of our hearts.
It was so easy for a man to blaze forth into sudden glory of renown at
that time! One true, loyal, courageous deed, and fame was secure. But
when the hurricane howl of the storm was at its height, when the land
was all on fire with such deeds, glory was not so cheap. Only the taller
flame could make itself distinguished, only the more potent voice be
heard amid the roar. So many a hero of many a greater exploit than
Anderson’s passed on unnoted.
And looking back coolly at the event from the walls of Sumter to-day, it
is not easy to understand how a patriot and a soldier, who knew his
duty, could have sat quiet in his fortress while Rebel batteries were
rising all around him. He was acting on the defensive, you say,—waiting
for the Rebels to commence hostilities. But hostilities had already
begun. The first spadeful of earth thrown up, to protect the first Rebel
gun, within range of Sumter, was an act of war upon Sumter. To wait
until surrounded by a ring of fire, which could not be resisted, before
opening the guns of the fort, appears, by the light both of military
duty and of common sense, absurd. But fortunately something else rules,
in a great revolution, besides military duty and common sense; and in
the plan of that Providence which shapes our ways, I suppose Major
Anderson did the best and only thing that was to be done. Besides,
forbearance, to the utmost verge of that virtue, and sometimes a little
beyond, was the policy of the government he served.
Reëmbarking on the steamer, and running over to Morris Island, I noticed
that Sumter, from that side, looked like nothing but a solitary sandy
bluff, heaved up in the middle of the harbor.