THE downfall of Washington in the first days of the war would have meant the downfall of the Republic. What changes this would have wrought in the history of the Western Continent can never be known. Its probabilities were such that the Treasury Building was guarded by howitzers, the Halls of Congress were occupied by soldiers, the Capitol building became a garrisoned citadel. Lincoln was virtually imprisoned by guards in the White House, and the streets were patrolled by armed men. Troops were quartered in the Patent Building. The basement galleries of the Capitol were converted into store-rooms for barrels of pork, beef and rations for a long siege. The vaults under the broad terrace on the western front were turned into bakeries where sixteen thousand loaves of bread were baked every day. The chimneys of the ovens pierced the terrace and smoke poured out in dense black clouds like a smoldering volcano. Ammunition and artillery were held in readiness to answer a moment's call. So intense was the excitement that one of the generals in command at the Government arsenal exclaimed: "We are now in such a state that a dog-fight might cause the gutters of the Capital to run with blood." There was the clank of cavalry on the pavements, the tramp, tramp of regiments of men whose polished muskets flashed in the sunlight as they moved over Long Bridge. Cavalcades of teams and white-topped army wagons carrying provisions, munitions of war and baggage followed in weird procession. Brady was then in Washington negotiating with the Government and the Secret Service for permission to follow the armies with his cameras. This is one of the pictures that he took at that time, showing the artillery and cannon-balls parked at the National Capital.
NO one, except the men who did it, can ever know the tremendous difficulties overcome in preparing an army for warfare. The transformation of a nation of peaceful home-lovers to a battle-thirsty, fighting populace is almost beyond human understanding. To arm them instantly with the implements of war is a problem hardly conceivable. When the first guns of the Civil War were belching their death-fire, all the man-killing weapons known to civilization were being hurried to the front. There were flint and percussion and long-range muskets and rifles; bayonets and cavalry sabers; field and siege cannon; mortars and sea-coast howitzers; projectiles, shot, shell, grape and canister; powder, balls, strap and buckshot; minie balls and percussion caps; fuses, wads and grenades; columbiads and navy carronades; lances, pistols and revolvers; heavy ordnance and carriages. Europe was called upon to send its explosives across the sea. Caves were opened for the mining of nitre, lead and sulphur. Factories were run day and night for the manufacture of saltpeter. On land and sea the greatest activity prevailed. This photograph was taken on the twenty-sixth day of August in 1861, when the ammunition schooners, accompanying the fleet from Fortress Monroe on the expedition to Fort Hatteras, N. C., were passing through Hampton Roads. The fleet, sailing under sealed orders, in command of Flag Officer Silas H. Stringham, arrived before sunset. Two days later, in conjunction with the troops of the 9th, 20th, and 99th New York Volunteers, under General Benjamin F. Butler, it forced the surrender of Fort Hatteras without the loss of a man and took seven hundred prisoners. The Confederates lost about fifty killed and wounded.
PHOTOGRAPH TAKEN IN HAMPTON ROADS—AMMUNITION SCHOONERS
SPIES lived in the White House according to the rumors in 1861, and every council of the Administration was reported to the enemy. Whether this is true or not has never been verified, but by some mysterious channel the Administration's plans invariably fell into the hands of the Confederates. One of the first instances of this is the expedition to Port Royal on the South Carolina coast. This was one of the finest harbors along the South Atlantic and it was planned to take it from the Confederates and use it as a base for future Union operations. The most careful preparations were laid for two months. On the twenty-ninth of October, in 1861, fifty vessels under sealed orders with secret destination sailed from Hampton Roads. The fleet had hardly left the range of Fortress Monroe when the full details of its sealed orders reached the Confederates at Port Royal. Off Cape Hatteras it ran into a severe gale; one transport was completely wrecked, with a loss of seven lives; another transport threw over her cargo; a storeship went down in the storm, and a gunboat was saved only by throwing her broadside battery into the sea. The fleet was so scattered that when the storm cleared there was only a single gunboat in sight of the flagship. Undismayed by the misfortune, within a few hours the vessels that had withstood the tremendous gale were moving on to Port Royal. Several frigates that had been blockading Charleston Harbor joined them and on the morning of the seventh of November the attack was made on Fort Walker at Hilton Head and Fort Beauregard on St. Helena Island. The guns of the fleet wrought dreadful havoc. The stream of fire was more than the entrenched men had expected or could endure. The troops fled across Hilton Head in panic from Fort Walker. When the commander at Fort Beauregard looked upon the fleeing soldiers he abandoned his position and joined the retreat. A flag of truce was sent ashore but there was no one to receive it, and soon after two o'clock the National colors were floating over the first permanent foothold of the Government in South Carolina, a Confederate stronghold.
