Great Events in the History of North and South America

by Charles A. Goodrich

To the citizens of Charleston those were anxious hours. There was hope, but more of fear. They filled the wharves, the roofs, and the steeples—in short, every eminence was black with spectators, gazing on the exciting scene and the approaching conflict.

It was a calm, bright, beautiful day. The wind being fair, the British fleet came steadily, proudly, towards the "slaughter-pen," and one after another took the positions assigned them. The Americans watched them with intense interest—"Moultrie's eye flashed with delight." Every gun was loaded—every one was manned—and all were now anxiously waiting the order to fire. At length, a portion of the fleet had reached point-blank-shot distance, when Moultrie, who, like Prescott at the battle of Bunker's hill, had restrained his anxiously-waiting men, now gave the word of command "Fire!"—And they did fire—and "the shores shook with the tremendous explosion."

The fleet continued to advance, a little abreast of the fort, when letting go their anchors, and clewing up their sails, they opened upon the fort. More than a hundred cannon!—their blaze, their smoke, their roar—all in the same instant—it was a terrible commencement—the stoutest heart palpitated! every one unconsciously held his breath!

"The battle had now fairly commenced, and the guns were worked with fearful rapidity. It was one constant peal of thunder, and to the spectators in Charleston, that low spot, across the bay, looked like a volcano breaking forth from the sea. Lee stood on Haddrell's point, watching the effect of the first fire. When the smoke lifted, like the folds of a vast curtain, he expected to see that 'slaughter-pen' in fragments; but there still floated the flag of freedom, and beneath it beat brave hearts, to whom that awful cannonade was but 'a symphony to the grand march of independence.' When the fight had fairly begun, they thought no more of those heavy guns than they did of their rifles. Their coats were hastily flung one side, and their hats with them—and in their shirt-sleeves, with handkerchiefs about their heads, they toiled away under the sweltering sun with the coolness and courage of old soldiers. The fire from those nine vessels, with their cannon all trained upon that pile of logs, was terrific, and it trembled like a frightened thing under the shock; but the good palmettoes closed silently over the balls, as they buried themselves in the timber and sand, and the work went bravely on. Thus, hour after hour, did it blaze, and flame, and thunder there on the sea, while the shots of the Americans told with murderous effect. At every discharge, those vessels shook as if smitten by a rock—the planks were ripped up, the splinters hurled through the air, and the decks strewed with mangled forms. Amid the smoke, bombs were seen traversing the air, and dropping, in an incessant shower, within the fort—but a morass in the middle swallowed them up as fast as they fell. At length, riddled through and through, her beds of mortar broken up, the bomb-vessel ceased firing. Leaving the smaller vessels, as unworthy of his attention, Moultrie trained his guns upon the larger ones, and 'Look to the Commodore! look to the fifty-gun ship!' passed along the lines, and they did look to the Commodore in good earnest, sweeping her decks at every discharge with such fatal fire, that at one time there was scarcely a man left upon the quarter-deck. The Experiment, too, came in for her share of consideration—her decks were slippery with blood, and nearly a hundred of her men were borne below, either killed or wounded. Nor were the enemy idle, but rained back a perfect tempest of balls; but that brave garrison had got used to the music of cannon, and the men, begrimed with powder and smoke, shot with the precision and steadiness they would have done in firing at a target. As a heavy ball, in full sweep, touched the top of the works, it took one of the coats, lying upon the logs, and lodged it in a tree. 'See that coat! see that coat!' burst in a laugh on every side, as if it had been a mere plaything that had whistled past their heads. Moultrie, after a while, took out his pipe, and lighting it, leaned against the logs, and smoked away with his officers, as if they were out there sunning themselves, instead of standing within the blaze, and smoke, and uproar of nearly two hundred cannon. Now and then he would take the pipe from his mouth to shout 'fire!' or give some order, and then commence puffing and talking—thus presenting a strange mixture of the droll and heroic. The hearts of the spectators in the distance, many of whom had husbands and brothers in the fight, were far more agitated than they against whom that fearful iron storm was hailing.

"After the fight had continued for several hours, Lee, seeing that the 'slaughter pen' held out so well, passed over to it in a boat, and remained for a short time. Accustomed as he was to battle, and to the disciplined valor of European troops, he still was struck with astonishment at the scene that presented itself as he approached. There stood Moultrie, quietly smoking his pipe, while the heavy and rapid explosions kept up a deafening roar; and there, stooping over their pieces, were those raw gunners firing with the deadly precision of practised artillerists. Amazed to find an English fleet, carrying two hundred and sixty guns, kept at bay by thirty cannon and four hundred men, he left the fort to its brave commander, and returned to his old station."[38]

Among the Americans, who were that day in the "slaughter-pen," and who were dealing death and destruction without stint, was a Sergeant Jasper, whose name has since been given to one of the counties in Georgia, for this and other heroic deeds. In the warmest of the contest, the flag-staff of the fort was shot away by a cannon-ball, and fell to the outside of the ramparts on the beach. The spectators at Charleston saw it fall, and supposing that the fort had yielded, were filled with consternation and dismay. In the surrender of the fort, they read the destiny of themselves and city. But what was their joy to perceive that columns of smoke, from the fort, still continued to roll up—the blaze and thunder of its cannon continued to be seen and heard; and presently the folds of the flag again fluttered in the breeze. Sergeant Jasper was the hero of the occasion. He had witnessed the fall of the flag—and he saw it "stretched in dishonor on the sand." It was a perilous attempt, but he did not hesitate. Leaping the ramparts, he proceeded, amidst a shower of balls, the entire length of the fort, and, picking up the flag, tied it to a post, and rëplaced it on a parapet, and there, too, he himself supported it till another flag-staff could be procured. Here, once more, it proudly waved—amid the shouts and congratulations of the now still more courageous in the fort, and to the joy of still more distant and equally anxious spectators of the scene.

Sergeant Jasper replanting the Flag at Fort Moultrie.

About this time, another circumstance sent a momentary panic through the stern hearts of the defenders of the fort. The ammunition was failing, and a large force, which had effected a landing, was in rapid march to storm the works. Moultrie instantly dispatched Marion to a sloop-of-war for a supply, and another message to Governor Rutledge at Charleston. Both were successful—both in season. Said the governor, in a note accompanying five hundred pounds of powder, "Do not make too free with your cannon—cool, and do mischief."