Chapter 1

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THE

FLAG REPLACED ON SUMTER.

_A PERSONAL NARRATIVE_

BY

WILLIAM A. SPICER.

READ BEFORE THE

RHODE ISLAND SOLDIERS AND SAILORS HISTORICAL SOCIETY,

FEBRUARY, 1884.

PROVIDENCE: PRINTED BY THE PROVIDENCE PRESS COMPANY. 1885.

COPYRIGHT, 1885.

THE FLAG REPLACED ON SUMTER.

"What's hallowed ground? 'Tis what gives birth To sacred thoughts in souls of worth! Peace! Independence! Truth!"--_Campbell._

Immediately upon the election of Abraham Lincoln as President, in November, 1860, a predetermined plan of secession was entered upon by the leading public men of the South, on the plea that his election was dangerous the interests of slavery. In February, 1861, seven of the slave States having united in the movement, an independent government was organized, under the name of the Southern Confederacy, and Jefferson Davis was inaugurated as President with great pomp, at Montgomery, Alabama; so that on the fourth of March, the day of Mr. Lincoln's inauguration at Washington, the flag of the United States was flying at only three points south of the Capital, viz: Fort Sumter, Fort Pickens, and Key West.

South Carolina naturally led the scheme of disunion, passing the ordinance of secession on the twentieth of December, 1860, and immediately proceeding to secure possession of the national property in the State, particularly the forts in Charleston harbor.

To prevent this, Major Robert Anderson, an able and loyal southern officer, commanding a small garrison of United States troops in Fort Moultrie, hastily removed, on the night of the 26th of December, to Fort Sumter, a much stronger but unfinished fortress in the middle of the harbor, hoping to maintain his position there till reinforced. But before this could be effected by President Lincoln, who had plainly advised Governor Pickens of his intention, a formal demand for the surrender of the fort was made by General Beauregard, commanding the rebel forces, which being promptly refused by Major Anderson, the order to reduce the fort was given by the Confederate government. On the morning of Friday, the twelfth of April, 1861, at half-past four, the first shot was fired upon Fort Sumter, which aroused and excited the nation, and begun the war of the Rebellion. For two days the assault continued, when after a most gallant defense by the little garrison of eighty men, Major Anderson was compelled to accept terms of evacuation. On Sunday afternoon, April 14th, he marched out of the fort with colors flying and drums beating, saluting the United States flag, as it was lowered, with fifty guns.

There was great rejoicing in Charleston. Thousands had assembled at the Battery, excited spectators of the scene. They exultingly beheld the banner of the Republic lowered, and the flags of South Carolina and the Southern Confederacy raised defiantly over the ramparts of Fort Sumter.

Governor Pickens, the bustling and blustering State executive, thus addressed the populace:

"We are now one of the Confederate States, and they have sent us a brave and scientific officer, to whom the credit of this day's triumph is due. We have defeated their twenty millions. We have humbled the flag of the United States before the Palmetto and Confederate, and so long as I have the honor to preside as your chief magistrate, so help me God, there is no power on this earth shall ever lower from that fortress those flags, unless they be lowered and trailed in a sea of blood. I can here say to you it is the first time in the history of this country that the stars and stripes have been humbled. That flag has never before been lowered before any nation on this earth. But to-day it has been humbled, and humbled before the glorious little State of South Carolina."

But Governor Pickens little dreamed that the discharge of his guns upon the United States flag at Fort Sumter would awaken such an outburst of patriotism as immediately followed all over the North, uniting the people of all classes in a determination to maintain the majesty of the Union, and vindicate the honor of the flag. How little he foresaw the mighty sweep and terrible devastation of the pitiless storm of civil war which now burst over the land, and which never departed from the soil of South Carolina till every rebel ensign was "lowered and trailed in a sea of blood;" till slavery, the cause of the conflict, was forever abolished, and the power of the United States firmly re-established on land and sea.

Four years had scarcely passed ere he heard the tramp of Sherman's army sweeping victoriously across the State, and beheld the once proud and haughty Charleston in possession of the Union legions. As he saw the starry flag again waving aloft in triumph, he hastened, with reluctant footsteps, to place himself once more under its protecting folds, thus renewing, in 1865, his oath of allegiance to the government whose authority he had defied in 1861!

A few months later, at the State Convention at Columbia, assembled under the direction of the President of the United States, it is none other than our _reconstructed_ friend, Ex-Governor Pickens, who rises amid the ashes of his once beautiful Capital, and offers the following ordinance:

"_Resolved_, We, the delegates of the people of the State of South Carolina, in general convention met, do ordain, that the ordinance [of secession] passed in convention on the twentieth of December, 1860, withdrawing this State from the Federal Union, be, and the same is hereby repealed. The fortunes of war, together with the proclamations of the President of the United States and the generals in the field commanding, having decided that domestic slavery is abolished, that therefore, under the circumstances, we acquiesce in said proclamations, and do hereby ordain implicit obedience to the Constitution of the United States, and all laws made in pursuance thereof."

He had thus at last learned the truth of that ancient and profound maxim, that "he who would aspire to _govern_, should first learn to _obey_!"

General Sherman did not pause in his rapid march northward from Savannah, through the Carolinas, to make any demonstration against Charleston; he conquered it, in the words of General Robert Anderson, "by turning his _back_ on it!" His military operations compelled the evacuation of the city, which was occupied by the Union troops on the eighteenth of February, 1865. Lieutenant-Colonel A.G. Bennett, of the Twenty-first United States colored troops, was the first to land with a small force, while some of the rebel mounted patrols still remained, applying the torch as they retreated. The Colonel at once addressed himself to the Mayor: "In the name of the United States government I demand a surrender of the city, of which you are the executive officer." The Mayor responded by immediately turning over the Cradle of Rebellion to its rightful owners. The Colonel then proceeded to the citadel with his colored troops, two companies of the Fifty-second Pennsylvania Regiment, and about thirty men of the Third Rhode Island Heavy Artillery, under Lieutenant-Colonel Ames, and proclaimed martial law. In his official report he says: "Every officer and soldier exerted himself to a most willing performance of every allotted duty, yet I do not deem it invidious for me to make special mention of Lieutenant John Hackett, Company M, Third Rhode Island Artillery, who volunteered to go alone to Fort Moultrie, and there raised the flag." This was a most perilous service, gallantly performed amid the danger of exploding rebel powder magazines.

It was the beginning of the end. President Lincoln, realizing that the fall of the Confederacy was near at hand, determined to celebrate the fourth anniversary of the surrender of Fort Sumter by replanting the old flag of 1861, with imposing ceremonies, upon the ruins of the fort, and the following order was accordingly issued:

GENERAL ORDERS, NO. 50. WAR DEPARTMENT, ADJUTANT-GENERAL'S OFFICE, } WASHINGTON, MARCH 27, 1865. }

ORDERED: _First_, That at the hour of noon, on the 14th day of April, 1865, brevet Major-General Anderson will raise and plant upon the ruins of Fort Sumter, in Charleston harbor, the SAME United States flag which floated over the battlements of that fort during the rebel assault, and which was lowered and saluted by him, and the small force of his command, when the works were evacuated on the 14th of April, 1861.

_Second_, That the flag, when raised, be saluted by one hundred guns from Fort Sumter, and by a national salute from every fort and rebel battery that fired upon Fort Sumter.

_Third_, That suitable ceremonies be had upon the occasion, under the direction of Major-General William T. Sherman, whose military operations compelled the rebels to evacuate Charleston, or, in his absence, under the charge of Major-General Q.A. Gilmore, commanding the Department. Among the ceremonies will be the delivery of an address by the Rev. Henry Ward Beecher.

_Fourth_, That the naval forces at Charleston, and their commander on that station, be invited to participate in the ceremonies of the occasion.

_Official._

By order of the President of the United States. EDWIN M. STANTON, _Secretary of War_.

E.D. TOWNSHEND, _Assistant Adjutant-General_.

The steamer "Arago" was officially commissioned to carry to the fort those who were to take part in the exercises, and the gratifying announcement was afterwards received in Providence that a second steamer had been chartered, the "Oceanus," of our Neptune Propeller Line, to sail from New York for Charleston, on Monday, April 10th, at noon. Immediately, three Providence boys, two of us comrades in the Tenth Rhode Island Regiment, fired with the news just received of the fall of Richmond, made our plans for going to Charleston on the "Oceanus." We so well succeeded that on the morning of the tenth we made our appearance on the deck of the steamer, duly armed and equipped with the necessary papers and outfit.

There was great enthusiasm on board over the news from the seat of war, not only on account of the recent capture of Richmond and Petersburg, but because, during the night, the news had flashed over the wires of the surrender of Lee and the death of the Rebellion. We thus became the bearers of these glorious tidings to Fort Sumter and Charleston.

My reception of the news in New York is thus described in my diary: "Monday, April 10, Astor House. On coming down from my room this morning, my attention was arrested by the 'big letters' at the head of the column of the morning paper, bearing the announcement of the surrender of General Lee and his whole army. It was pretty big news to take _in_, and contain myself. Passing into the hotel parlors, I noticed that Broadway was gaily decorated with flags (though the rain was descending in torrents), and there read in the _Herald_ the official documents from General Grant, upon which I could hardly refrain from shouting three cheers! I believe I did give one! While waiting for breakfast I ventured, in the enthusiasm of the moment, to seat myself at the piano, and was hard at work on about the only patriotic tune I could drum, viz: 'Tenting on the old camp ground,' when a small boy came up with a message from some nice looking young ladies at the opposite end of the parlor, requesting 'The Star Spangled Banner,' in honor of the glorious news. Well, I didn't exactly fall under the piano; but briefly conveying regrets at my inability to comply, I retired as gracefully as possible."

Promptly at noon we waved our adieus from the deck of the "Oceanus" to the friends assembled on shore, and steamed slowly down the harbor. The weather was extremely rainy and foggy, and when hardly three hours out, we found ourselves aground on Sandy Hook bar. A pilot was signaled, who brought the report of a heavy storm outside, and after getting us safely off the sand-spit, he advised our "laying to" till morning. This was a great disappointment, as there was no time to lose, and some one impatiently asked, "Can't you take us out this afternoon, pilot?" "I reckon I can if you all say so," responded the old salt, "but you'd better lay _here_, to-night!" "Why so, pilot?" "You gentlemen want to go to Charleston, don't you?" "Why, yes, of course." "Wall, then, I tell you, you'd better lay _here_ to-night, for it's goin' to be a werry nasty, dirty night outside." That settled the matter, and down went the big anchor of the "Oceanus."

Having eaten but sparingly during the day to avoid sea-sickness, and fully believing that we were firmly anchored for the night, I indulged in a hearty supper, concluding, as my diary says, "with sardines and oranges." I had occasion to feel very sorry for this a few hours later.

A patriotic meeting was held in the cabin during the evening. The music and addresses were very enjoyable, till suddenly the sound of hurrying feet was heard overhead, and the news was whispered round that we were "weighing anchor." Soon we began to feel the uncomfortable rolling of the steamer. The orator who was then addressing the meeting, and who had waxed eloquent with his subject, now provoked considerable merriment by his ungraceful and involuntary gestures, clutching desperately at a chair, then taking a fresh hold of the table to steady himself. It well illustrated Demosthenes' famous rule for oratory, "Action! action! action!" But a more serious impression quickly prevailed among the audience, that it was high time to retire, and, like Longfellow's Arabs, they began to "silently steal away." The chairman of the meeting, Mayor Wood, of Brooklyn, unmindful of his usual decorum, upon an extra roll of the steamer went over the back of his chair, and rolled ingloriously upon the floor. He acknowledged that he had never been so completely floored in his life.

There was another portly gentleman who, in attempting to navigate, was caught near the cabin door, just behind the knees, by a friendly chair, and as he was suddenly tilted back into it, remarked somewhat dryly, "I believe _I'll sit down_!" Going out on deck, I found that the storm had lifted, the lights of Sandy Hook were far astern, and we were fairly at sea. From this point of time on Monday evening, when we _lay_ on deck, (things were getting too _unsteady_ for landsmen to _stand_,) I omit, out of courtesy to ourselves, any further incidents of the voyage, and pass on to Thursday morning, which found us sitting on the forward deck, waiting and watching for the spires of Charleston. The weather was delightful. As we passed into the warmer southern climate, the sea became calmer and more transparent, schools of porpoises played about the steamer, and one enthusiastic individual insisted that he had seen a whale! but he was set down by one of the disgruntled passengers as "only a pesky oil speculator." The German band on board, or rather the brief remnant of it, still kept up what at the distance of several yards sounded like very dismal music! Presently some one suggested "lemons and lump sugar," as the right remedy for any lingering unpleasantness, and we drew lots as to who should "go below," combat the smells of the cook-room, and purchase them. The announcement that the chance had fallen on my old friend and comrade of the Tenth Rhode Island, William Vaughan, was greeted with roars of laughter. But he got off very much like another fellow described in Pickwick, who spelled his name with a "double you" and a "wee," by liberally feeing some one else to go in his place.

About three o'clock in the afternoon came the joyful shout of "Land-ho!" which quickly filled the deck of the "Oceanus" with a troop of smiling faces. All gloom now gave way to sanguine expectation. We could plainly distinguish the light-ship, bearing the suggestive name, "Rattlesnake Shoals," and knew we were at last off Charleston harbor. A pilot was presently taken on board, who informed the captain that we could not go over the bar till sunset. Some one asked him, "Are the people over there in Charleston loyal now, pilot?" He shook his head gravely, and was non-committal. "Well, then, we've come down here to _make_ you loyal, pilot!" Turning his keen eye, which had peered into many a northeaster, directly upon his interviewer, the old salt vigorously replied, "You can't make _me_ loyal, for I always _have_ been!" Noble words and truly spoken, as we afterwards found.

The sun was still shining brightly in the western horizon as we weighed anchor, and with colors flying and whistle sounding, steamed slowly towards the majestic bay which expands its broad bosom before the city of Charleston. The pilot, dressed in navy blue, stood at the window of the pilot-house, guiding the helmsman and announcing the various points of historic interest.

Close at hand two buoys marked the spots where the monitors "Keokuk" and "Weehawken" were sunk; and lashed to a mast-head of the latter, still visible above the water, was a small American flag floating in the breeze. But the attention of all was now suddenly arrested by a more imposing display in the sky. For high above the city the glorious sunset had painted the western heavens with streaming bars of red and white and blue, fringed with gold. It was our banner, stretched out again by a Divine hand, over the recovered city; and all eyes turned to behold the sight, as the shout went up, "See, the Red, White and Blue! The Red, White and Blue!" Fort Strong, formerly called Fort Wagner, on Morris Island, was passed with uncovered heads, in honor of Colonel Shaw, who fell gallantly leading his colored regiment to the assault; then Fort Putnam, formerly Battery Gregg, on Cummings' Point, and on the right Fort Moultrie and Battery Bee, on Sullivan's Island, were pointed out, till at length the cry rang out, "Fort Sumter! Fort Sumter!" Battered and crumbled almost to shapelessness, it rose before us like some vast monster in the centre of the harbor. As we drew nearer, we could distinguish the sentinels on the ramparts, whose bayonets glistened in the rays of the setting sun.

For a few moments we contemplated in silence the storied fortress, as memories of the long and bitter struggle here inaugurated passed in quick procession before us. But victory had come at last, and rebellion had perished. As by a common inspiration, all hearts and voices united in the grand old doxology,

"Praise God, from whom all blessings flow."

It was our good passport to the city, heard and honored at Fort Sumter by the rapid dipping of the colors, while the answering strains of the "Star Spangled Banner" echoed and re-echoed o'er the bay.

Passing rapidly on, we soon arrived within hailing distance of our blockading squadron, safely riding at anchor. As we gave each ship and gunboat and monitor, as we passed, the news of Lee's surrender, a scene of the wildest enthusiasm followed, which quickly spread throughout the entire fleet. The sailor boys in blue crowded to the bulwarks, or mounting aloft, manned the yards, climbing even to the main-tops, and turning swung their caps and rent the air with their shouts. "Hurrah! hurrah! Lee has surrendered! Lee has surrendered!!" How welcome the tidings after their arduous service.

"Sweet after danger's the close of the war."

The shades of night were falling thickly about us, as we left the fleet astern and came swiftly up to the city, which was shrouded in darkness. From the midst of a crowd of people gathering on the deck ahead of us, a squeaky voice piped out, "What's the news?" and a strong voice gave back the answer:

"Lee has surrendered with his whole army!"

Again the piping voice:

"Have you got Lee?"

And the reply, with no uncertain sound:

"Yes, we've got him this time, sure," followed by an indescribable medley of southern yelling, cheering and dancing.

Amid the excitement and enthusiasm, the band of the United States steamer "Blackstone" struck up the "Star Spangled Banner," to which ours responded with "My country, 'tis of thee." Again from the "Blackstone," "The Red, White and Blue," followed by the martial notes of "Hail Columbia" from the "Oceanus" as she was made fast to the dock. Captain Hunt, of General Hatch's staff, came aboard promptly, and after exchanging congratulations over the great news, tendered us during our stay the "freedom of the city." We were not expected to avail ourselves of this courtesy till morning; a few of us, however, did get out on southern soil, just to stretch ourselves a bit after our long sea-faring, but encountering rather a suspicious looking crowd, we soon returned on board, to await the morrow, the ever-memorable fourteenth of April, 1865.

The day dawned at length, mild and verdant with the breath of spring,

"And o'er the bay, Slowly, in all his splendors dight, The great sun rises to behold the sight."

Turning toward the city we could easily distinguish the long line of edifices along the Battery, their windows glittering in the yellow sunshine. Quickly dressing, we set forth on a ramble through the deserted metropolis. There was plenty of time, as the transports were not to leave for Fort Sumter till ten o'clock. Vaughan and I sauntered down East Bay street, among the crumbling and deserted warehouses, to the Battery. This was a long and straight promenade, with stone pavement, commanding a fine prospect of the bay and fortifications. Here, four years before, all was activity and bustle; here the populace assembled, and sent up their frenzied shouts as the flag of the Republic was lowered, and the ensign of Rebellion supplanted it for a season.

How changed the scene! The streets were deserted. The crowds were scattered and gone forever! The silence of desolation reigned on every hand, disturbed only by the songs of the summer birds. Not even a newsboy assailed us with the _Mercury_ or _Courier_, containing an account of the latest victory over the Yankees. Here, along the Battery, were many of the finest residences, stately mansions with broad verandas, which bore the terrible effects of the long bombardment. Their walls were scarred and rent. The roofs were crushed, the glass shattered, piles of rubbish and other débris encumbered the ground, and the grass was growing in the streets. The siege of the city had steadily and relentlessly continued for five hundred and eighty-eight days. It was commenced on the twenty-first of August, 1863, by the opening of the Swamp Angel Battery on Morris Island, five miles away. On the seventh of September, Fort Wagner and Battery Gregg were taken, and more guns were trained upon the city (notably the water battery), compelling the evacuation of the lower part. During the long siege not less than thirteen thousand shot and shell were thrown into the city.