Chapter II: Part 2

Ninety odd barrels had been rolled out through the flames, when the heat became so great as to make it impossible to get out any more. The doors were then closed and locked, and the fire spread and became general. The wind so directed the smoke as to fill the fort so full that the men could not see each other, and with the hot, stifling air, it was as much as a man could do to breathe. Soon they were obliged to cover their faces with wet cloths in order to breathe at all, so dense was the smoke and so scorching the heat.

But few cartridges were left, and the guns were fired slowly; nor could more cartridges be made, on account of the sparks falling in every part of the works. A gun was fired every now and then only to let the fleet and the people in the town know that the fort had not been silenced. The cannoneers could not see to aim, much less where the shot fell.

After the barracks were well on fire, the batteries directed upon Fort Sumter increased their cannonading to a rapidity greater than had been attained before. About this time, the shells and ammunition in the upper service-magazines exploded, scattering the tower and upper portions of the building in every direction. The crash of the beams, the roar of the flames, the rapid explosion of the shells, and the shower of fragments of the fort, with the blackness of the smoke, made the scene indescribably terrific and grand. This continued for several hours. Meanwhile the main gates were burned down, the chassis of the barbette guns were burned away on the gorge, and the upper portions of the towers had been demolished by shells.

There was not a portion of the fort where a breath of air could be obtained for hours, except through a wet cloth. The fire spread to the men’s quarters, on the right hand and on the left, and endangered the powder which had been taken out of the magazines. The men went through the fire and covered the barrels with wet cloths, but the danger of the fort’s blowing up became so imminent, that they were obliged to heave the barrels out of the embrasures. While the powder was being thrown overboard, all the guns of Moultrie, of the iron floating battery, of the enfilade battery, and the Dahlgren battery, worked with increased fury.

All but four barrels were thus disposed of, and those remaining were wrapped in many thicknesses of wet woolen blankets. But three cartridges were left, and these were in the guns. About this time the flagstaff of Fort Sumter was shot down, some fifty feet from the truck, this being the ninth time that it had been struck by a shot. A man cried out, “The flag is down; it has been shot away!” In an instant, Lieutenant Hall rushed forward and brought the flag away. But the halyards were so inextricably tangled that it could not be righted; it was, therefore, nailed to the staff, and planted upon the ramparts, while batteries in every direction were playing upon them.

A few moments after, and a man was seen with a white flag tied to his sword, who desired admission. He was admitted through an embrasure. In a great flurry, he said he was General Wigfall, and that he came from General Beauregard, and added that he had seen that Sumter’s flag was down. Lieutenant Davis replied, “Oh, sir! but it is up again.” The cannonading meanwhile continued. General Wigfall asked that some one might hold his flag outside. Lieutenant Davis replied, “No, sir! we don’t raise a white flag. If you want your batteries to stop, you must stop them.” General Wigfall then held the flag out of an embrasure. As soon as he had done this, Lieutenant Davis directed a corporal to relieve him, as it was General Wigfall’s flag.

Several shots struck immediately around him while he was holding it out, when he started back, and putting the flag in Wigfall’s face, said, “D——n it; I won’t hold that flag, for they don’t respect it. They struck their colors, but we never did.” Wigfall replied, “They fired at me three or four times, and I should think you ought to stand it once.” Wigfall then placed the white flag on the outside of the embrasure, and presented himself to Major Anderson, and said that General Beauregard was desirous that blood should not be unnecessarily shed, and also stated that he came from General Beauregard, who desired to know if Major Anderson would evacuate the fort, and that if he would do so he might choose his own terms.

After a moment’s hesitation Major Anderson replied that he would go out on the same terms that he (Major Anderson) had mentioned on the 11th. General Wigfall then said: “Very well; then it is understood that you will evacuate. This is all I have to do. You military men will arrange everything else on your own terms.” He then departed, the white flag still waving where he had placed it, and the stars and stripes streaming from the flagstaff which had become the target of the rebels.

Shortly after his departure Major Lee, the Hon. Porcher Miles, Senator Chesnut, and the Hon. Roger A. Pryor, the staff of General Beauregard, approached the fort with a white flag, and said they had come from General Beauregard, who had observed that the flag had been down and raised again a few minutes afterward. The General had sent over, desiring to know if he could render any assistance, as he had observed the fort was on fire. (This was perhaps a delicate mode of asking for a surrender.) Major Anderson, in reply, requested them to thank General Beauregard for the offer, but it was too late, as he had just agreed with General Beauregard for an evacuation. The three persons comprising the deputation, looked at each other blankly, and asked with whom? Major Anderson, observing that there was something wrong, remarked that General Wigfall, who had just left, had represented himself to be an aid to General Beauregard, and that he had come over to make the proposition.

After some conversation among themselves, they said to Major Anderson that Wigfall had not seen General Beauregard for two days. Major Anderson replied that Wigfall’s offer and its acceptance had placed him in a peculiar position. They then requested him to place in writing what General Wigfall had said to him, and they would lay it before General Beauregard.

Before this reached General Beauregard, he sent his Adjutant-General and other members of his staff, including the Hon. Roger A. Pryor and Governor Manning, proposing the same conditions which Major Anderson had offered to go out upon, with the exception only of not saluting the flag. Major Anderson said that he had already informed General Beauregard that he was going out. They asked him if he would not accept of the terms without the salute. Major Anderson told them, No; but that it should be an open point.

General Beauregard sent down to say that the terms had been accepted, and that he would send the Isabel or any other vessel at his command to convey Major Anderson and the troops to any port in the United States which he might elect.

No braver men ever lived than the defenders of Fort Sumter; but the ardor and endurance of musician Hall of Company E was remarked by every man in Sumter, and the company presented him with a testimonial. He was at the firing of the first guns, and fought on all day, and would not accept either of the three reliefs. He was up at the first shot the next day, and worked without cessation till night. His example and words of cheer had great effect. This is the more worthy of remark as he belonged to the musicians, and was not obliged to enter into the engagement at all.

Mr. Hart, a volunteer from New York, particularly distinguished himself in trying to put out the flames in the quarters, with shells and shot crashing around him. He was ordered away by Major Anderson, but begged hard to be permitted to remain and continue his exertions.

Never did famished men work more bravely than those who defended that fortress, knowing, as they did, that if successfully defended and held by them, there was not even a biscuit left to divide among them. They never would have left it while a protecting wall stood around them, had they been provided with provision and ammunition. Every man was true and faithful to his post; hunger and want of ammunition alone caused them to leave Fort Sumter. They were exposed to a most terrible fire from all quarters, and it was only by exercising the utmost care that the officers were enabled to preserve the men from a terrible slaughter. Fort Sumter in itself was hardly worth the holding; had there been the full fighting complement of men within its walls, the fort would not have afforded suitable protection for one-half of them. The enemy’s shot rained in upon and about them like hail, and more men in Sumter would only have made greater havoc. As it was, the garrison proved fortunate in having escaped without the loss of one of those brave men who were willing to die for the flag which waved over them.

The evacuation took place about 9½ o’clock on Sunday morning, after the burial with military honors of private Daniel Hough, who had been killed by the bursting of a gun. The men had been all the morning preparing cartridges for the purpose of firing a salute of one hundred guns. This done, the embarkation took place, the band meanwhile playing Yankee Doodle.

STORMING OF FORT SUMTER, VIEWED FROM THE LAND.

A person who witnessed the bombardment of Fort Sumter from the harbor, gives this graphic account:

The terrific firing reached an awful climax at ten o’clock at night. The heavens were obscured by rain clouds, and it was as dark as Erebus. The guns were heard distinctly, the wind blowing in shore. Sometimes a shell would burst in mid-air, directly over Fort Sumter. Nearly all night long the streets were thronged with people, full of excitement and enthusiasm. The house-tops, the battery, the wharves, the shipping,—in fact every available place was taken possession of by the multitude.

The discharges of cannon gradually diminished as the sun rose. All the clouds, which rendered the night so dark and dismal, disappeared as day began to break, while the air became most beautiful, balmy, and refreshing. The streets were filled again with persons, male and female, old and young, white and black; some went to the battery, some to the wharves, and some to the steeples of the churches.

A few random shots were fired from the Confederate batteries, to which Fort Sumter only replied occasionally. Soon it became evident that Sumter was on fire, and all eyes were rivetted upon it. The dense smoke that issued from it was seen gradually to rise from the ramparts. Some supposed that this was merely a signal from Major Anderson to call in the fleet to aid him.

At this time the fleet was in the offing quietly riding at anchor, and could clearly be distinguished. Four vessels were ranged in line directly over the bar, apparently blockading the port. Their long, black hulls and smoke stacks proved them to be Federal steamers. Every one anxiously waited to see what they would do. The suspense was very exciting. On all sides could be heard,

“Will the vessels come in and engage the batteries? If they do not they are cowardly poltroons.”

Every person on the battery fully expected that the engagement would become general. By the aid of glasses, it was believed that a movement was being made to this end by two of the war ships, and it was thought that the sand would soon begin to fly from the Morris Island batteries.

At ten o’clock in the morning, attention was again rivetted on Fort Sumter, which was now beyond a doubt on fire. The flames were seen to burst from the roofs of the houses within its walls, and dense columns of smoke shot quickly upward.

At this time Major Anderson scarcely fired a shot. The guns on the ramparts of Fort Sumter had no utterance in them. Burst shells and grape scattered like hail over the doomed fort, and drove the soldiers under cover.

From the Iron Battery at Cummings Point a continuous fire was kept up. Its rifled cannon played sad havoc with that portion of Fort Sumter facing it. The firing from the Floating Battery and from Fort Moultrie continued very regular and accurate. Standing on the Charleston battery, and looking seaward, you have on the right a mortar battery and Fort Johnson, distant from the city two and a half miles. Half a mile from Fort Johnson is the Iron Battery of Cummings Point, mounting three ten-inch columbiads, three sixty-four-pounders, three mortars, and one rifled cannon. Cummings Point is only fifteen hundred yards from Fort Sumter, and so any one can imagine what havoc the regular fire of the Cummings Point battery must have created.

The men working the guns made them terribly effective. The sand redoubt was scarcely injured by the weak fire Major Anderson kept up on the battery. It was commanded by Major Stevens, of the Citadel Cadets. Under his direction each shell that was fired found a destination within Fort Sumter, and during the entire bombardment scarcely one missile of this character missed its mark.

On the other side of the harbor, directly opposite Fort Sumter, is one of the strongest sides of Fort Moultrie. During the last three months it has been strengthened by every appliance that military art could suggest. Its marlons, moats, glaces, and embrasures are perfectly protected. The weak walls of the fort were made perfectly secure for the gunners while at work. From this point throughout the engagement vast numbers of shot and heavy balls were discharged.

Behind this, and near Sullivan’s Island, the Floating Battery was stationed, with two sixty-four and two forty-two pounders. Its sides of iron and palmetto logs were impenetrable. Every shot from it told on Fort Sumter, and the men in charge of it were so secure in their position, that some of them indulged in soldiers’ pastimes, while others played five cent ante, euchre and bluff.

The Mortar Battery at Mount Pleasant was five hundred yards from the Floating Battery, and was mounted with two mortars within excellent range of Fort Sumter. The shells from this mortar were thrown with great precision. You now have all the positions of the works bearing directly on Fort Sumter.

All through Friday morning the greatest activity at all points was displayed. Three times Major Anderson’s barracks were set on fire, and twice he succeeded in putting out the flames, and to do this it was necessary to employ all his force in passing along water. To get water it was necessary for some of his men to go outside the walls, and hand the buckets in through the port-holes, during all which time they were exposed to a most terrific fire from the various batteries.

This last expedient was not resorted to until the fort was on fire for the third time, and the flames had increased to an alarming pitch. Meantime, Major Anderson’s guns were silent. He allowed his men to be exposed to the galling fire upon them but for a few moments, and then ordered them in and shut the batteries as the smoke was too thick to work them. At noon the flames burst from every quarter of Fort Sumter, and its destruction appeared inevitable.

NAVAL EXPEDITION FOR THE RELIEF OF SUMTER.

The Government had sent a well-laden fleet to the relief of Fort Sumter, a portion of which arrived in Charleston harbor time enough to witness the bombardment of the fort, without the power to help its heroic garrison.

This fleet left New York and Washington from the 6th to the 9th of April. It consisted of the sloop-of-war, Pawnee, 10 guns, and 200 men; Pocahontas, 5 guns, 110 men; cutter Harriet Lane, 5 guns, 110 men; accompanied by the transport Baltic, and the steam-tugs Yankee and Uncle Ben, with additional men and stores. Owing to stormy weather, the vessels were unable to reach the Charleston coast at the appointed time. The Pawnee, Harriet Lane, and the Baltic arrived at the rendezvous on the morning of the 12th April, but the Pocahontas did not join them until the next day. The steamtug Yankee lost her smoke-stack in the storm which dispersed the fleet, and did not reach the neighborhood of Charleston till after the departure of her consorts, and eventually returned to New York. Nothing was heard of the Uncle Ben until the 30th of April, when intelligence was received that she had been captured by the insurgents off the coast of North Carolina.

The orders of the expedition were, that unarmed boats should first be sent to the fort with stores only; but if these were fired upon, every effort was to be made to relieve the fort by stratagem or force. The vessels of war and the Baltic proved of too heavy draft for any hopes of passing the bar, and the steam-tugs which were to have been sent in with supplies, failed to make their appearance. The attack on the fort, before any measures of a peaceable character could be adopted for its relief, left no alternative but force, to the commandant of the fleet, if the object of his expedition was to be accomplished. A consultation of officers was held at four o’clock on the afternoon of the 12th, and the following plan was agreed upon: the Pawnee and the Harriet Lane were to remain at anchor during the night; at dawn, on the 13th, the Pawnee was to hoist out her armed launches, and the Baltic was to put her boats alongside, freighted with the provisions and troops designed for the fort. The war vessels were then to tow the boats as far as possible on their perilous journey, when they were to be cast off, and allowed to pursue their course toward the fort, relying upon the guns of the men-of-war, and what aid might be extended from Sumter, to protect them from the batteries and flotilla of armed boats, which were in readiness to dispute their advance. During the night the Baltic went aground on Rattlesnake Shoals, and the plan agreed upon was, from necessity, relinquished. The conflagration of the barracks of the fort having precipitated its evacuation earlier than was anticipated, the officers of the fleet abandoned other plans for its relief.

At two o’clock on the 14th of April, Major Anderson and the garrison of Fort Sumter were received on board the Baltic, and the fleet shortly after sailed for New York. The flag of the fort was borne at the mast-head of the Baltic as she entered the bay of New York, where it was saluted by guns from every fort in the harbor, and hailed by the shouts of more than a hundred thousand people, who lined the wharves of the city. It was also raised over the equestrian statue of Washington in Union Square, in that city, when the great Union meeting was held on the afternoon of Saturday, April 20.

THE NATION’S RESPONSE.

The first gun that boomed against Fort Sumter struck the great American Union with a shock that vibrated from the centre to its outer verge. Every heart, true or false to the great Union, leaped to the sound, either in patriotism or treason, on that momentous day.

The North and South recoiled from each other; the one in amazement at the audacity of this first blow against the Union, the other rushing blindly after a few leaders, who had left them little choice of action, and no power of deliberation. The first news of the attack took the Government at Washington almost by surprise. President Lincoln and his Cabinet had not allowed themselves to believe that a civil war could absolutely break out in the heart of a country so blessed, so wealthy, and so accustomed to peace. True, political strife had waged fearfully; sections had clamored against sections, factions North had battled with factions South; but in a country where free speech and a free press were a crowning glory, a war of words and ideas could hardly have been expected to culminate in one of the most terrible civil wars that will crimson the world’s record.

The first boom of the cannon’s blackened lips—the first shot hurled against the stars and stripes, aroused the Government from its hopes of security. Scarcely had the telegraph wires ceased to tremble under the startling news, before the Cabinet assembled in President Lincoln’s council chamber, and when it broke up, a proclamation, calling for seventy-five thousand troops, had been decided upon, and Congress was to be convened on the Fourth of July.

The startling news, this prompt action, and the defenceless state of Washington, filled the country with wild excitement. It was known that the South had been for months drilling troops; that large portions of Virginia and Maryland were ready for revolt, and many believed that bodies of men were organized and prepared for an attack on the capital. Had this been true, had a considerable number of men marched upon Washington any time within four days after the news from Fort Sumter reached it, nothing could have saved it from capture, and probably, destruction. With only a handful of troops, and exposed at every point, no effectual resistance could have been made. The news reached Washington on Sunday; the next day such troops as could be mustered, appeared on parade. Pickets were stationed outside the town; horses were galloped furiously from point to point, and the first faint indication of this most awful civil war dawned upon a people so used to peace, that its import could not be wholly realized.

Smothered alarm prevailed in the city; a military guard was placed each night in the White House, and great anxiety was felt for the arrival of troops, which had been hastily summoned from the North.

That week the near friends of the President were under painful apprehensions for his safety. It was known to a few persons that the very gang of men who had planned his death at Baltimore, were in the neighborhood of the capital, plotting against him there. It was even known that a design existed by which a sudden descent of swift riders was to be made on the White House, with the bold object of killing Lincoln in his cabinet, or carrying him off by force into Virginia. The night-guard in the Presidential mansion was but small, and by day Lincoln had always been imprudently accessible.

The persons believed to be in this plot were brave, reckless men, accustomed to adventures of every kind, and quite capable of carrying out a programme of abduction or bloodshed under more difficult circumstances than surrounded this enterprise. But men of reckless action are seldom prudent in speech; the wild project was too exciting for proper reticence. By a few incautious words, dropped here and there, this treasonable design was fathomed; the friends of President Lincoln warned, and the whole thing quietly defeated, for the gang soon ascertained that their treason had been discovered, and, as its success depended on a surprise of the President’s household, the project was abandoned.

Meantime the news of Fort Sumter, and the call for troops, had shot its lightning along every telegraph in the Union; the response was an instantaneous uprising of the people, such as no country on earth ever witnessed before.

The great majesty of the Union had been insulted and set at defiance, and as one man, thousands upon thousands rushed around the worshipped banner of their country, firm in their patriotism, and terrible in their determination that it should never be trailed in the dust, or torn with hostile shot, unavenged.

The proclamation of President Lincoln calling for volunteers, was answered by the voices of freemen from every hill-top and valley, and almost fabulous numbers stood ready and anxious to devote themselves to the vindication of the national honor. Wild indeed was the enthusiasm that ran from heart to heart, linking the great west and the east together. But one sentiment found expression from any lip among the excited populace, and that sentiment was, the Union should be sustained at all hazards. Wealth, life, everything must be counted as dust till the Union had redeemed itself. Who in New York does not remember how the city was ablaze with flags and tri-colored bunting on the memorable day, when, “the Seventh regiment,” responded to the call? Never did a finer or braver body of young men pass down Broadway. Although their arms were not now corded or hands hardened by labor, their prompt action was a living proof that gentle breeding can be associated with hearts of oak, with stern determination, coolness and discretion. Leaping to their arms at the first note of danger, impatient of delay and thrilling with the hope of weaving in their peace-won wreaths laurels earned by hard fighting, this regiment marched from its armory, the very first of the Empire State to obey the call to arms. Their object was war. They hoped ardently that it was no light duty which might fall upon them. They expected to meet hard work and hard fighting too before the capital was reached, for danger menaced them on all sides. Baltimore had risen in revolt even while they were arming for the march and they fully depended on fighting their way through its turbulent streets.

On the 19th of April, at the very time revolt broke out in Baltimore, a very different scene was going on in New York.

Amidst unparalleled enthusiasm the volunteer soldiers of New England and New York struck hands on their march to the rescue of the national capital. And beautiful the streets looked, with bannered parapets, peopled roofs, windows thronged with sympathetic beauty, and sidewalks densely packed with multitudes of excited and applauding citizens.

But it required only a single glance at the faces of this great multitude to become convinced that no mere gala or festive purpose had called out this magnificent demonstration. In every eye burned the unquenchable fire of patriotic ardor, and in every heart was the aspiration to join in defence of one common country. Old men, who must have seen the earlier struggles of our history, came forth to bless the young soldiers on their march to take share in a grander and more noble struggle than any the American continent had yet witnessed.

Mothers, with tears of joyous pride half blinding them, helped to buckle on the accoutrements of their sons, and kissed them as they went forth to battle. Sisters and sweethearts, fathers and wives, friends and relatives, all were represented, and had their individual characteristics in the immense concourse of life which held possession of Broadway.

Perhaps if there could have risen from the dead one of the old Girondists, after being bloodily put away to repose during the great French Revolution, and if he had been dropped down in New York,—by allowing a little for advance in costumes and architecture, he might have seen many curious points of resemblance between the scenes and those of seventy years ago in Paris. Then the inspiration of liberty ran through the people, and the most powerful aristocracy of Europe was destroyed. The result of the struggle which broke out in New York, and in the streets of Baltimore, in one day, time has yet to reveal.

The children of New York, the Seventh regiment, the pets and pride of her society, were going forth to their first war duty. Eight hundred chosen young men, with threads woven to hold them, wherever they went, to the million hearts they left behind—moved down Broadway and started for the capital.

Eight hundred young citizens, each with musket and knapsack, borne along calmly and impassively on a tide of vocal patriotism, making the air resonant with shouts and warm with the breath of prayer.

With that regiment went young Winthrop, on that memorable day, who afterwards passed from the literary fame he had so richly earned, to military glory at the battle of Big Bethel. There also was O’Brien, one of the most promising poets of the age, doomed like Winthrop to reap bloody laurels, and fill a soldier’s grave. Let no one say that the Empire State was not nobly represented in these young soldiers. Gentlemen as they were, one and all, no man was heard to complain of hard work, soldiers’ fare, or no fare at all, as sometimes happened to them. How cheerful they were in the cedar groves for two days and nights—how they endured the hardships of a bivouac on soft earth—how they digged manfully in the trenches. With what supreme artistic finish their work was achieved—how they cleared the brushwood from the glacis—how they blistered their hands and then hardened them with toil—how they chafed at being obliged to evade Baltimore, and how faithfully they guarded Washington and achieved the object for which they were sent, will be best given in a description of the march from Annapolis of which O’Brien has left a brilliant record.

Nor were their services in protecting the capital all that the Seventh regiment of New York has given to its country. Many a regiment which has since won lasting fame on the battle-field has been officered to some extent from its ranks.

Two days after the departure of the Seventh regiment, the Seventy-first, since renowned for its bravery at Bull Run, the Sixth, and Twelfth, all city regiments of New York, took the same glorious track, and were hailed with like enthusiasm. In military drill and social position, some of these regiments were not inferior to the Seventh, and their departure was witnessed by a concourse of people equal to that which filled the streets on the 19th.

It was with pride that a city saw her first quota of soldiers departing _en route_ for Washington, to take the Empire share with the troops of other loyal states in the contest now inaugurated. The spectacle, instead of being a great pageant, had all the grandeur and solemnity of a step in one of those crises of events which involve individual and national life—engraving new names and new dynasties upon the tablets of history.

As if to make the departure of these troops more memorable, a large American flag, forty feet long by twenty wide, was flung out upon a flagstaff from a window in Trinity steeple, at a height of two hundred and forty feet. The chimes meanwhile played several airs appropriate to the occasion, among which were “Yankee Doodle,” “The Red, White and Blue,” winding up with “All’s Well.” A flagstaff with a splendid flag attached, was also run out of a window over the portico in front of St. Paul’s Church. Thus under these mighty banners, furling and unfurling in the wind and hedged in by triple walls of human beings, amid the resonant chimes of Trinity, the crash of their own magnificent bands drowning the “God bless you” of many a gentle heart, the city of New York sent its first regiments to the field.

As each regiment passed through New York the concourse of people to see it off increased, till every fresh march was a triumph in advance of the brave deeds the soldiers were expected to perform. In less than a week banners and flags had become so thick across Broadway, that they fairly canopied the departing troops, and shouts loud and deep sent them on the way with many a blessing and hearty God speed.

Nor was this enthusiasm confined to crack regiments or the aristocratic soldiery of our cities. The working-men also came forth in masses, claiming a share in the glorious work. Of this class was the Sixth Massachusetts regiment, which had just baptized its colors in the streets of Baltimore, taking lead even of the chivalric regiments of the Empire City. Of this class was the thrice glorious Sixty-ninth, as brave a body of warmhearted Irishmen as ever trod the earth. Perhaps the greatest crowd that ever gathered to see a regiment off assembled when this body of adopted citizens marched forth under the star-spangled banner and the green flag of old Ireland. On that day human nature acknowledged its own universal kinship. The work-shop and the counting-room, the parlor and the basement met for once on a level of noble enthusiasm. The palace and the tenement house gave forth their inmates alike, for it was a common country which these men went forth to defend with their strength and, alas, their lives.

Proud mothers and wives and sisters, who had watched their beloved ones march off in the ranks of some favorite regiment, looked down from balconies and windows with tearful eyes upon the crowd of women who lined the pavements.

More particularly was this manifest on the departure of the Sixty-ninth. What warm, true hearts crowded the pavements that day! Old women, little children, whole households clung together, sorrowful but O, how proud of the valor that filled their eyes with tears.

If there was weeping on the pavement, it was answered with a feeling of gentle sisterhood from the balcony and window. The same bright eyes that had seen the Seventh, Seventy-first, Twelfth and other regiments pass, through a mist of tears, filled with sympathetic moisture when they saw these poor wives and mothers break through all restraint and rush wildly into the ranks for one more kiss, a hand-clasp, or, if no more, a last glance of loving recognition.

Perhaps some of these highly bred females envied the social freedom which allowed these women of the people to follow their husbands and brothers up to the moment of embarkation, without a thought of the world beyond. Many an embroidered handkerchief was waved, and many a sweet blessing murmured in gentle sympathy with these sister women when those hard-working, hard fighting, gloriously brave men went forth to earn imperishable renown.

Not only in New York, but all over the North and West these ovations were repeated. Boston Common was one scene of mustering forces, and its streets a panorama of armed men. Every State over which the blessed old star-spangled banner flung its folds, sent forth its sons, only complaining that so few were accepted. Like a prairie fire when the grass is dry, the war spirit leaped from town to town, and from State to State, till the whole North was ablaze with it.

Troops mustered into companies and massed themselves into regiments in the North and the great West so numerous and so fast that a swift pen might fail to keep the record. The uprising was general. Along our water courses, along our railroads, down the broad avenues of our cities, regiment after regiment swept a continued stream of armed men, all bearing toward the capital. For the whole great North rose as one man and sprang to arms. The plough was left in the furrow—the hammer upon the anvil—the saw upon the bench—the reaper in mid prairie—the shuttle in the loom—the pen upon the ledger—the engine untended—the press unfed—the busy sails of commerce unfurled, and the whirring mill unsupplied. A patient people had arisen in its might, with clear steel and the rolling thunder of cannon they were prepared to uphold the sacred majesty of the Union flag, while a splinter remained of the staff, or a shred of the fabric! An electric flash stirred the long-patient and dumb millions to life and speech, and under the red ensign of war they rallied in the common cause.

No one State or town could claim pre-eminence in patriotic fervor over its neighbors, for no where did this wild enthusiasm find check or hindrance. Our great cities could only claim superiority over the smaller towns from the hospitality with which they received troops from the country and cheered them onward to the battle field. Boston, Portland, New Haven, New York, Philadelphia, and the leading Western cities formed a great thoroughfare for the mustering army, for the country around poured their patriotic masses through the streets of these cities, and the press gave eclat to the movements which reflected back upon the cities themselves. But in the great North and the great West there was no nook or corner where this patriotic furor did not exist.

Monster Union meetings were held in every city of the loyal States, and within an incredibly short time, _Three Hundred and Fifty Thousand_ men responded to the call of the President. Great as the number was, it proved but small to what would have volunteered had they been needed, or could they have been accepted, for with bonfires blazing upon every hill, and flags waving from every house-top—with the red, white and blue upon every breast, and the long roll beating in every heart—with wives sending their husbands—mothers their sons and girls their lovers, such a battle cry was raised as the earth had never listened to, and nations of the old world heard with astonishment.

REINFORCEMENT OF FORT PICKENS.

APRIL 12, 1861.

The Navy Yard and forts in the harbor of Pensacola, from their extent and importance, were particularly the objects of insurgent ambition. General Bragg and his counsellors had so adroitly arranged their plans that it was confidently expected that the government forts, buildings and property would fall into their peaceable occupation. On the 12th of January, the navy yard and barracks, together with Fort Barrancas, fell into their possession, and shortly afterwards Fort McRae met with the same fate; but Lieutenant Slemmer, the United States officer in command of the forts of Pensacola harbor, courageously threw his small force of eighty-two men into Fort Pickens, and had thus far held at bay the large army of insurgents who were preparing to attack him.

The harbor of Pensacola is probably the largest and finest on the whole coast of the Mexican Gulf. The bay is six miles wide and about twelve long. The Warrington navy yard was seven miles by land from Pensacola and six miles and three-quarters by water. About a mile from the navy yard, west, stood Fort Barrancas, and a mile farther Fort McRae, which commands the bar. Opposite Fort McRae was Fort Pickens, the channel running between them. Near Fort Pickens was a redoubt. On the opposite side of Pensacola, across the bay, Santa Rosa island extends several miles to the bar, at the extremity of which is Fort Pickens. A vessel coming into the harbor must necessarily pass between Fort Pickens and Fort McRae, and in close proximity to Barrancas.

Fort Pickens is a bastioned work of the first class, built of New York granite; its walls forty-five feet in height and twelve in thickness. It is embrasured for two tiers of guns, placed under bomb-proof casemates, besides having one tier _en barbette_. The work was commenced in 1848 and finished in 1853, at a cost of nearly one million dollars. Its war complement of soldiers is 1,260. Its full armament consists of 210 guns, howitzers, and mortars, of all calibres.

Simultaneous with the determination to reinforce Fort Sumter, the government resolved to send relief to Fort Pickens, which was then threatened by a force of 7,000 men under General Bragg, strongly entrenched, and occupying the other forts in the harbor.

A fleet of six United States vessels lay in the harbor, and they had been notified by General Bragg that he would immediately open fire upon them and Fort Pickens also, should they attempt to reinforce the garrison.

Previous to the 10th of April, the steam frigate Powhatan and the transports Atlantic and Illinois had sailed from New York with troops, ordnance and provisions, for Fort Pickens; but before their arrival at that place, a bearer of dispatches from Washington reached the commander of the naval forces in the bay, with instructions to reinforce the fort. Between the hours of 11 and 12 o’clock on Friday night, April 12th, this was accomplished without bloodshed. “As soon as it became dark,” said an officer on board the sloop-of-war Brooklyn, one of the blockading fleet, “we began work with good will and in earnest. At first the marines from the frigate Sabine and the sloop St. Louis, came on board our vessel, and immediately after the accomplishment of this, the anchor was hoisted by the jolly old salts, with the merry chant of—

‘General Jackson won the day,
Heave, yeo ho!
At New Orleans, the people say
Yeo, heave yeo!’

We ran as close to the shore as possible, came to anchor, and without a moment’s delay, lowered the boats and filled them with troops.

“At 11 o’clock, Lieutenant Albert N. Smith, of Massachusetts, being in command, they started on their mission, uncertain if they would live to see the light of another day. As they left the side of the vessel, many a ‘God cause you to succeed,’ came from the lips of the loyal men at my side. If I live a thousand years I shall never forget the feelings I experienced when I saw those brave fellows shake hands with their old comrades. A tear would now and then glisten in the gloom, but be instantly wiped away with a clenched hand. These men knew their danger, and with the knowledge, dared to face it with a courage eminently worthy of praise—and may they receive it!

“The party were instructed to send up signals should they be attacked, and I do assure you never were keener eyes than ours on that eventful night, as we pierced into the darkness, momentarily expecting to see a rocket light up the midnight gloom; but none appeared. While we were thus anxiously awaiting some evidence of the success or non-success of their mission, a boat was hailed. A faint answer comes back: ‘Lieutenant Smith and the boat’s crew!’ and in whispers we hear the news, ‘they have been successful!’ Brother officers shake hands, and give Lieutenant Smith that praise justly deserved by him. They went around inside of the harbor, passed under the guns of Forts McRae and Barrancas without being heard, and safely landed all the troops without molestation.

“This being successfully accomplished, it was almost instantly concluded to make a new attempt, and orders were given that all the marines in the squadron should take to their boats, preparatory to their being put in the fort. This being done, the steamer Wyandotte took them in charge, and towed them as far as she could go, when they left her and pulled into the harbor, taking the same course the first party had, and in good time reached the fort, and safely landed all who were in the boats. Just as the day was breaking, we saw from our deck the boats shoving off from the beach; and when they returned to us, our anchor was instantly ‘up,’ and we steaming to our old anchorage with very different sensations from those we had when we started for the work. Thus the Brooklyn accomplished what she was sent here for,—the reinforcement of Fort Pickens in spite of General Bragg.”

A few days after this fort had been so nobly reinforced, the splendid steamer Atlantic sailed into the Union fleet, laden with troops for the fort. The next day she was joined by the frigate Powhatan, and again by the Illinois, all laden with troops and military stores. Thus a thousand more troops were thrown into the stronghold, which, with the fleet outside, made it impregnable.

There is no doubt that an attack upon Fort Pickens was contemplated the very night these reinforcements arrived. The assaulting party was composed of five hundred picked men, two hundred and fifty of whom were from the Mississippi Ninth, to be led by C. H. Harris of the Home Guard; fifty from the Tenth Mississippi, and the others from other troops at Pensacola. All necessary preparations were made for moving about 11 o’clock at night. The storming party were led down to the Navy Yard, from whence it would probably have embarked in boats.

It is surmised that Colonel Forney would have been the leader. There was no doubt entertained of his success. Before the force arrived it was evident the fort had been reinforced, and all thought of the meditated assault was abandoned. The men picked for this special service lay on their arms all night in the Navy Yard.

BURNING OF HARPER’S FERRY ARSENAL.

APRIL 18, 1861.

The ordinance of secession of the State of Virginia was adopted in secret session on the 17th of April, and the Governor of the State, John Letcher, immediately issued orders for the seizure of the Federal posts and property by the military of the State. A most important post to be first secured comprised the extensive and valuable arsenal, with all its workshops and machinery for the manufacture of arms, at Harper’s Ferry, a place which had been rendered familiar as a household word, from its seizure by John Brown and his party, in the autumn of 1859.

Harper’s Ferry is situated in Jefferson county, Virginia, at the confluence of the Potomac and Shenandoah rivers, and is 173 miles distant from Richmond, 57 from Washington, and 80 from Baltimore. The population was about 5,000. The arsenal at this place contained 15,000 stand of arms, in addition to other military stores, then in charge of Lieutenant R. Jones, with a detachment of U. S. Rifles, numbering 43 men. Lieutenant Jones had received advice from Washington that his post was in imminent danger. He was directed to be prepared for any emergency that might arise. On the 17th he received information from various sources that an attack would be made on the night of the 18th. Early in the evening of that day, the little garrison commenced preparations to destroy the arsenal and its contents by fire. The windows and doors of the buildings were then thrown open, that the flames might have a full current of air. At nine o’clock authentic information reached Lieutenant Jones that 2000 men were close at hand.

The men worked bravely, cutting up planks and splitting timbers into kindling-wood, which were heaped ready for the flames. They emptied their mattresses, filled them with powder, and carried them thus into the buildings, that no suspicion might be excited among the people. The arms were then placed in the best position to be destroyed by the explosion, and the combustibles deposited in different places in the shops, that all might be ready.

When all was completed, the fires were started in the combustibles heaped in the carpenters’ shop. The trains leading to the powder were ignited, and the men were led forth.

All at once a cry of fire rang through the town. The frightened inhabitants rushed from the houses, and as Lieutenant Jones and his men entered the gateway of the bridge, an excited crowd pursued him with menaces and threats of vengeance. He wheeled his men into line, and announced his determination to fire upon the pursuers if they molested him. The people then fell back, and he escaped by the canal and took refuge in the woods.

A quarter of an hour after, when this band of valiant men were grouped in the darkness of the woods, the first thunders of the explosion echoed through the hills, and flames leaped forth from the burning buildings, illuminating the grand scenery of the place into wonderful beauty. The water, the village, and those glorious mountain passes that surround Harper’s Ferry with a grandeur which the whole world recognizes, were illuminated into all their green and crystal depths. After pausing a moment to witness the result of their own noble work, this gallant officer and his brave men turned their faces northward, and left Harper’s Ferry, saluted by fresh bursts of explosion, and lighted onward by jets of flame that leaped up from the surging clouds in which the arsenal was enveloped, till the sky glowed above them like a golden canopy.

Leaving the scene of conflagration behind, Lieutenant Jones made a hurried march toward Hagerstown, Maryland, wading through streams and swamps, and reached that place at seven o’clock on the morning of the 19th. There he immediately procured means of conveyance, and started for Chambersburg, Pennsylvania, which he reached in the afternoon in an exhausted condition. The men were covered with mud and dirt, and were overcome with fatigue and hunger, having eaten nothing since leaving Harper’s Ferry. They were hospitably entertained by the inhabitants, and departed in the afternoon train for Carlisle barracks. Lieutenant Jones and his men received the approbation and thanks of the Government for their judicious conduct on this occasion, and he was commissioned Assistant Quartermaster-General, U. S. A., with the rank of Captain.

The arsenal buildings were immediately taken possession of by the rebel authorities, and used for the purpose of making and repairing arms, until they again came into possession of the Federal authorities.

THROUGH BALTIMORE.

A terrible civil war, destined to be without parallel for bitter intenseness, was now fully revealed. The curtain that had so long screened the enemies of the Union in their machinations against the Government, had been raised at Fort Sumter; and in the seizure of Harper’s Ferry arsenal, although its usefulness to them had been seriously impaired by the true hearts and hands that applied the torch, and rendered the darkness of night lurid with its conflagration, desolation and ruin had already began their march, leaving their footprints in ashes among the lovely scenes of civilized life, and rioting amid the legendary grandeur and time-honored places of the Old Dominion.

It needed but one act more to encircle us with the thunders of war—to plunge the nation into an almost fathomless ocean of civil hatred and revenge, and leave upon the pages of history the unhappy record of many an ensanguined field. The green sward of a happy, prosperous and free land only remained to be crimsoned with blood! The heart of some martyr freemen needed only to be drained of its life-blood, and the stripes of our old flag dyed a deeper crimson in the precious flood. Soon, too soon, alas! this last fatal act was accomplished. The day after the burning of Harper’s Ferry saw the streets of Baltimore red with sacred blood, and a nation shuddered as the lightning spread the fatal news from State to State.

For months threats had been whispered that Washington should be seized; that an armed mob should revel in the capital and drive Lincoln from the White House. These threats were not idle boastings, as the confidence, celerity, and preparation of the insurgents proved. While the country north of the Potomac was solacing itself with dreams of peace—while plenty was filling every coffer to overflowing, great preparations had been making, and that for a very long time, to secure the end they now had in view. Sudden, unexpected, like the deep tolling of a midnight alarm-bell, the news fell upon the country. Fear, amounting almost to panic, seized upon the people, and when the orders were issued for the instant assembling of troops, the rush to arms was proof positive of this deep alarm.

As in the olden days, the sons of Massachusetts—brave, hardy, fearless as their own sea-washed rock—rushed first to arms and responded to the call. In less than twenty-four hours, _seventeen hundred men_ were waiting in Boston—armed, ready and anxious to march. The order came, and early in the morning of the nineteenth of April—a day memorable in the history of the country, as the anniversary of the battle of Lexington—the Sixth Regiment of Massachusetts militia, commanded by Col. E. P. Jones, of Pepperell, and accompanied by three companies from another regiment, attached temporarily to his command (comprising, in all, about one thousand men), left Philadelphia for Washington, arriving in Baltimore at ten o’clock, A. M. The same train also contained about twelve hundred men from Philadelphia, under the command of General Small. These were unarmed, provision having been made for their being supplied, in this respect, on their arrival at Washington.

On the arrival of the train at the President-street depot, the locomotives were detached, and horses substituted, occasioning much delay, for there was an inadequate supply. A very large crowd had gathered around, and though the reception was not one of courtesy, yet no one would have anticipated serious trouble.

Six cars passed in safety, before the fast-increasing mob (for it could now be called by no other name), succeeded in obstructing the track, and thus cutting off three companies of the Massachusetts troops from their comrades, besides General Small’s command, who had remained at the depot of the Philadelphia road. A hasty consultation was held, and it was determined by the officers to march the Massachusetts companies to their destination; and the detachment, under the command of Captain Follansbee, at once set out.