“Abandon our position, General!” said Colonel Moultrie, “will your excellency but visit the guns, and ask the men whether they will give up the fort? No, we will die or conquer here.”
The eye of the Commander-in-Chief flashed proudly at this reply, and stepping out upon the plain, he approached a party who were firing with terrible precision upon the British fleet. This fearless exposure of his person called forth a cheer from the men; but without giving him time to remain long in so dangerous a position, Colonel Moultrie exclaimed,
“My brave fellows, the general has come off to offer to remove you to the main if you are tired of your post. Shall it be?”
There was a universal negative, every man declaring he would sooner die at his gun. It was a noble sight. Their eyes flashing; their chests dilated; their brawny arms bared and covered with smoke, they stood there, determined, to a man, to save their native soil at every cost, from invasion. At this moment a group appeared, carrying a poor fellow, whom it could be seen at a glance was mortally wounded. His lips were blue; his countenance ghastly; and his dim eye rolled uneasily about. He breathed heavily. But as he approached us, the shouts of his fellow soldiers falling on his ear, aroused his dying faculties, and lifting himself heavily up, his eye, after wandering inquiringly about, caught the sight of his general.
“God bless you! my poor fellow,” said Lee, compassionately, “you are, I fear, seriously hurt.”
The dying man looked at him as if not comprehending his remark, and then fixing his eye upon his general, said faintly,
“Did not some one talk of abandoning the fort?”
“Yes,” answered Lee, “I offered to remove you or let you fight it out—but I see you brave fellows would rather die than retreat.”
“Die!” said the wounded man, raising himself half upright, with sudden strength, while his eye gleamed with a brighter lustre than even in health. “I thank my God that I am dying, if we can only beat the British back. Die! I have no family, and my life is well given for the freedom of my country. No, my men, never retreat,” he continued, turning to his fellow soldiers, and waving his arm around his head, “huzza for li—i—ber—ty—huz—za—a—a,” and as the word died away, quivering in his throat, he fell back, a twitch passed over his face, and he was dead.
Need I detail the rest of that bloody day? For nine hours, without intermission, the cannonade was continued with a rapidity on the part of our foes, and a murderous precision on that of ourselves, such as I have never since seen equalled. Night did not terminate the conflict. The long afternoon wore away; the sun went down; the twilight came and vanished; darkness reigned over the distant shores around us, yet the flash of the guns, and the roar of the explosions did not cease. As the evening grew more obscure the whole horizon became illuminated by the fire of our batteries, and the long, meteor-like tracks of the shells through the sky. The crash of spars; the shouts of the men; and the thunder of the cannonade formed meanwhile a discord as terrible as it was exciting; while the lights flashing along the bay, and twinkling from our encampment at Haddrell’s Point, made the scene even picturesque.