Retracing our steps towards the steamer, we met our friends coming from various directions. Some of them would have passed for returning miners, who, in lieu of rich booty, were heavily laden with relics of stone, brass and iron. While these Yankee relic-hunters failed in getting away with old Fort Sumter itself, they successfully carried off two six-hundred pound shots from the great English Blakely gun, (sent over to the rebels by friends in England.) They afterwards presented these to the New York and Long Island Historical Societies, as enduring evidences of British neutrality during our war.
Ruins of Circular Church. St. Michael's Church. Ruins of Institute Hall.
CHARLESTON IN RUINS.
My mementoes included several hundred dollars worth, so to speak, of Confederate currency; a tile from the floor of the State Bank of South Carolina, and a Book of Common Prayer picked up among the rubbish in St. Michael's Episcopal Church. The floor of the edifice was covered with the shattered glass from the windows. A large shell had ploughed its way directly through the tower, fragments passing through the rear wall of the church, demolishing the pulpit, and even "breaking the commandments" inscribed on tablets attached to the wall. But the iron messenger kindly spared the precepts most needed in Charleston, "Thou shalt not kill!" and "Thou shalt not steal!"
We climbed to the top of the tower of this ancient structure, whose chimes had been removed to be recast into rebel cannon. I have since heard that a new set of chimes now ring out the glad notes of Freedom.
Near by, on the right, were the ruins of Institute Hall, where the Ordinance of Secession was passed, December 20th, 1860, by more than five hundred majority. On the left, the ruins of Circular Church, where the first secession sermon was preached.
But the hour for the grand ceremonial at Sumter had now almost arrived. Hastily embarking on the transport "Golden Gate," the brilliant pageant in the harbor opened before us. As far as the eye could reach, its waters were thickly crowded with shipping, gaily decked from bow-sprit to yard-arm and top-mast, "with flags and streamers gay, in honor of the gala-day!" While on every ship and transport, in every available place, were assembled the expectant multitude.
A steamer in the advance suddenly attracted our attention, decked with banners and crowded with the boys in blue. Can it be? Yes, it is our old Rhode Island steamer "Canonicus." Summoned at the opening of the war from the peaceful waters of Narragansett bay, she had rendered efficient service as a government transport, and now at its close had been honorably chosen to lead the grand procession in the peaceful advance to Fort Sumter. Presently the signal was given, the drums were beaten, the trumpets sounded, and immediately the "Canonicus" led the proud procession, followed by a long line of steamers and transports which gracefully rounded into line. Prominent among them was the "Planter," commanded by Robert Small, a freedman, who shouted his orders from the top of the paddle-box, while all around him, and below, in every nook and corner, were crowded the happy contrabands of South Carolina, of all ages and sizes, presenting in their variety of costumes a most novel and fantastic picture.
It was a proud day for them and for Robert Small, who, a few months before, almost unaided and alone, had captured the "Planter" from the armed State of South Carolina, safely passed the rebel batteries, and delivered her a prize to our blockaders. He received from the government $4,500, one-half the value of the steamer, with a commission of $1,800 as her commander. He afterwards purchased his old master's house and furniture, which set him up as immensely rich among his people, who declared him to be "de dun smartest cullud man in Souf Curlina!"