A MASS OF RUINS.

517

CHAPTER LXXII.

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 inte rior received the least. There are no casemates left, except on that side. In the centre stands the flagstaff, 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 highwater. 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 dol lars.

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.)

COST OF FORTS. HEROES OF THE WAR. 519

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. Jan. 10th, 1861.)

(Both seized

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, 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.

Reembarking 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.

STORY OF GENERAL S'S CAPTURE.

521

CHAPTER LXXIII.

A PRISON AND A PRISONER.

"Is this your first visit to Charleston ?" I asked General S-, one day as we dined together.

"My first visit," he replied, "occurred in the summer of 1864, considerably against my inclination. I was lodged at the expense of the Confederate Government in the WorkHouse, not half as comfortable a place as this hotel!"

Both visits were made in the service of the United States Government; but under what different circumstances! Then, a helpless, insulted prisoner; now, he came in a capacity which brought to him as humble petitioners some of the most rebellious citizens of those days. When sick and in prison, they did not minister unto him; but since he sat in an office of public power, nothing could exceed their polite, hat-in

hand attentions.

Dinner over, he proposed that we should go around and look at his old quarters in the Work-House. I gladly assented, and, on the way, drew from him the story of his capture.

He was taken prisoner at the battle of July 22d, before Atlanta, and placed on a train, with a number of other prisoners, to be conveyed to Macon.

"When we were about ten or a dozen miles from Macon, I went and sat on the platform with the guard. To prevent his suspecting my design, I told him I was disabled by rheumatism, and complained of pain and weakness in my back. He presently leaned against the car, and closed his eyes; like everybody else after the battles of July, he was pretty well used up, and in a few minutes he appeared to be asleep. His gun was cocked, ready to shoot any prisoner that attempted