All Charleston watched. Business was entirely suspended. King Street was deserted. The Battery, the wharves and shipping, and “every steeple and cupola in the city” were crowded with anxious spectators. And “never before had such crowds of ladies without attendants” visited the streets of Charleston. “The women were wild” on the housetops. In the darkness before dawn there were “Prayers from the women and imprecations from the men; and then a shell would light up the scene.” As the day advanced, the city became rife with rumors: “Tonight, they say, the forces are to attempt to land. The Harriet Lane had her wheel house smashed and put back to sea.... We hear nothing, can listen to nothing. Boom boom goes the cannon all the time. The nervous strain is awful....” Volunteers rushed to join their companies. There was “Stark Means marching under the piazza at the head of his regiment ...,” his proud mother leaning over the balcony rail “looking with tearful eyes.” Two members of the Palmetto Guard paid $50 for a boat to carry them to Morris Island.
The barracks at Fort Sumter caught fire three times that first day, but each time the fire was extinguished. One gun on the parapet was dismounted; another was damaged. The wall about one embrasure was shattered to a depth of 20 inches. That was caused, in part, by the Blakely rifle, firing with “the accuracy of a duelling pistol.” The quarters on the gorge were completely riddled. When night came, dark and stormy, Fort Sumter’s fire ceased entirely. Using the six needles available, the work of making cartridge bags continued; blankets, old clothing, extra hospital sheets, and even paper, were used in the emergency. Meantime, the supply fleet, off the bar since the onset of hostilities, did no more than maintain its position. It had been crippled upon departure when Seward’s meddling caused withdrawal of the powerful warship Powhatan. Now, bad weather prevented even a minimum supporting operation.
Ardent Virginia secessionist Edmund Ruffin has long been credited by some historians with firing the first shot against Fort Sumter. The honor actually belongs to Capt. George S. James, commander of the 10-inch mortar batteries on James Island, who ordered the signal shell fired from Fort Johnson. Ruffin, however, did fire the first shot from the Ironclad Battery on Cummings Point.
Capt. (later Gen.) Abner Doubleday, who directed the first return shot from Fort Sumter.
On the morning of the 13th, Sumter opened “early and spitefully,” and, with the increased supply of cartridges, kept up a brisk fire for a while. About mid-morning “hotshot” (solid cannonballs heated red hot) set fire to the officers’ quarters. The Confederate fire then increased; soon the whole extent of the quarters was in flames, endangering the powder magazines. The blaze spread to the barracks. By noon the fort was almost uninhabitable. The men crowded to the embrasures for air or lay on the ground with handkerchiefs over their mouths. Valiant efforts by Anderson’s men had saved some of the powder before the onrush of the flames forced the closing of the magazines, and the fort’s defenders continued to fire. At every shot, Beauregard later reported, the Confederate troops, “carried away by their natural generous impulses, mounted the different batteries, and ... cheered the garrison for its pluck and gallantry and hooted the fleet lying inactive just outside the bar.”
Charlestonians—men, women, and children—watch from the rooftops as Confederate batteries bombard Sumter. Anderson’s delay in returning the fire caused many to believe that he did not intend to respond at all—a situation which, in Edmund Ruffin’s view, “would have cheapened our conquest.”
About 1:30 in the afternoon the flag was shot down. Almost accidentally, this led to surrender. By authority of Gen. James Simons, commanding on Morris Island, Col. Louis T. Wigfall, a former Texas senator and now one of Beauregard’s aides detached for duty at that spot, set out by small boat to ascertain whether Anderson would capitulate. Before he arrived at the beleaguered fort, the United States flag was again flying, but Wigfall rowed on. The firing continued from the batteries across the harbor. Attaching a white handkerchief to the point of his sword, Wigfall entered the fort through an embrasure on the left flank and offered the Federal commander any terms he desired, the precise nature of which would have to be arranged with General Beauregard. Anderson accepted on the basis of Beauregard’s original terms: evacuation with his command, taking arms and all private and company property, saluting the United States flag as it was lowered, and being conveyed, if desired, to a Northern port. The white flag went up again; the firing ceased. Wigfall departed confident that Anderson had surrendered unconditionally. He and his boatman were borne ashore in triumph.