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.