Gunsmoke Over the Atlantic: First Naval Actions of the Civil War [Naval Chronology: 1860-1865 -- Naval Nomenclature -- 1. Fort Sumter and the U.S. Navy -- 2. A Navy Yard Falls -- 3. The Blockade and the Blockade-Runners -- 4. A New Navy Is Born -- 5. The First Amphibious Operations, Part 1: Cape Hatteras]

Book by Coombe Jack

Chapter One

FORT SUMTER AND THE U.S. NAVY

A strong southeast wind whipped the water into deep troughs off the bar at the mouth of Charleston Harbor, while low, angry clouds scudded across the sky. The transport steamer Baltic rocked in the troughs, holding its position at the edge of the swash channel.

It was April 12, 1861, and aboard the transport, Captain Gustavus Vasa Fox no doubt glanced around and frowned. In the distance he could have made out the gray outline of the two-masted side-wheel sloop Harriet Lane, her paddlewheels slapping at the encroaching waves. Behind her was the dim shape of the bark-rigged sloop Pawnee, also rocking slowly in the surf. Alarmingly, the Powhatan and the Pocahontas were missing. This must have disturbed him, because their striking power was vital to the mission.

Fox knew that those present were the only ships of an eight-vessel fleet sent by navy secretary Gideon Welles to provide a relief mission for beleaguered Fort Sumter, located at the mouth of the harbor. No doubt Fox, who was in charge of the expedition, must have deeply pondered the absence of the 3,765-ton, 11-gun side-wheel frigate Powhatan, which had been ordered to join the fleet. Her absence would be crucial, because her heavy guns could have provided the fleet with protection from the glowering Confederate batteries on Cummings Point and Sullivan’s Island, on each side of the harbor’s mouth, and also from any encroaching armed vessels the Confederates would muster against him.

Welles’ order emphasized that the primary mission of the fleet was to provision Fort Sumter and that the War Department would furnish the necessary transports for the force.1 But it was clear that those transports with 200 troops, plus three steam tugs, Uncle Ben, Freeborn, and Yankee, were also missing with no clue as to their whereabouts.

Gustavus Fox was fully qualified for the mission. A native of Massachusetts, he had been appointed midshipman in the navy in 1845 after graduating from the U.S. Naval Academy on January 12, 1838.

Fox served aboard the U.S.S. Preble, on which he gained experience about command at sea and the intricacies of transport duty during the Mexican War. He later resigned his lieutenant’s commission and settled down as a merchant in his native state. But President Lincoln had personally contacted him to head the Fort Sumter relief mission. Fox arrived at Charleston, on March 21, to confer with Anderson about the state of affairs at the fort. After his visit, Fox became convinced that a relief mission was possible, in spite of growing tensions around the fort in Charleston and the batteries surrounding it.

Following the rapid secession of South Carolina, Mississippi, Florida, Alabama, Georgia, Louisiana, and Texas, it became clear that war was in the offing. President Lincoln put Fox on notice to proceed with all possible speed to Charleston Harbor, with a relief mission for Anderson and the garrison at Sumter.

The task force left New York Harbor, with the Powhatan and the 750-ton, six-gun sloop Pocahontas departing on April 6, and the rest of the flotilla leaving at various times. Fox’s Uncle Ben left on the seventh, with the rest following. Soon after reaching Sandy Hook, the force found itself in an Atlantic gale, with heavy winds that dogged the vessels all the way to Charleston.

Fox’s orders stated that the flotilla was to stand off the harbor and await the arrival of the missing warships, which were believed to have been delayed by the storm. This was puzzling, considering that the warships had left one day before Fox’s departure.

By April 12 it was clear that the absence of the vessels would seriously crimp the mission. The tugs, with their fast speed and low draft, would have been ideal for slipping past the enemy’s gun positions, as would a small fleet of launches on board the Powhatan. These vessels would have carried not only provisions but a detachment of relief troops in case an opportunity allowed them to be placed in the fort under the protection of the powerful warship. None of the present ships had boats that would serve the purpose, and now there was also a shortage of personnel. Fox began to experience a feeling of frustration as the hours dragged on.

One bright spot in the picture for Fox, however, was the capture of a small ice schooner by the Pawnee. For a time it appeared that this fast vessel would be ideal for slipping past the batteries at night, but the idea was soon abandoned when the rumble of gunfire was heard within the harbor. As the angry clouds lifted, Fox and the crews of the vessels could witness black smoke drifting over the harbor, indicating a conflict.2

Their worst fears were realized: Fort Sumter was under attack! It is not difficult to comprehend the frustration and utter helplessness felt in the relief flotilla as they watched a torrent of shells reaching high and arcing down upon the hapless fort and its outgunned and outmanned occupants. For a time a heavy pall of smoke obstructed their vision, but as the wind whipped it away, the horror of it all was driven home. Meanwhile, the Pocahontas hove into view, delayed by the storm; alarmingly, the warship was alone, without the much-awaited Powhatan.

In the fort, Major Robert Anderson shared Fox’s perplexity. On December 26, 1860, he had written to Col. S. Cooper, adjutant general, that he had just removed his garrison from Fort Moultrie to Sumter, except for four noncommissioned officers and seven men. He revealed that there was a year’s supply of hospital stores and four months’ supply of provisions. He presented the rationale for the abandonment of Moultrie and a secret move under cover of darkness.

After his move from Moultrie, Anderson must have looked around the unfinished fort and wondered what was in store for the men and himself, to say nothing of his beloved country, the United States of America. But the move was necessary because of what preceded it.

The tight-lipped Anderson was well equipped for commanding Fort Moultrie. Born in Kentucky on June 4, 1805, Anderson, who was early on a very religious man, graduated 15th in his class from West Point in 1825. His combat record included the Blackhawk and Seminole Indian Wars, and he served in Mexico under General Winfield Scott, during which he was wounded. After these events, he found himself translating French military texts into English at the War Department. In 1845 he married Elizabeth L. Clinch, daughter of Brigadier General Duncan Clinch. He settled down to what he thought would be a quiet, peaceful life of service.

In November 1860 John B. Floyd, U.S. secretary of war, ordered him to command the garrison at Moultrie. Although Anderson was sympathetic toward slavery because of his southern origins, he remained loyal to the Union, and his devotion to duty was admirable.4

Without question, he accepted the command. He and Elizabeth packed their bags, moved to South Carolina, and took up residence in Moultrie, which by this time had gained the reputation of being a socially agreeable place, especially because of the people of Charleston. It had become less of a military establishment and more a social club of sorts, which the upper-class residents of Charleston frequented.

The only other fortifications in Charleston Harbor were the incomplete Fort Sumter and Castle Pinckney, the latter a brick edifice on a small island a mile north off Charleston. It had a capacity of 100 men and an armament of 22 guns, but in 1860, 10 men under an ordnance sergeant occupied it. Anderson was aware that South Carolina forces, in the event of hostilities, would quickly take the Castle Pinckney site. He therefore reasoned that any hope of resistance lay in Fort Sumter, even though it was incomplete.

Anderson no doubt had recalled the impressive event of the removal of his men from Moultrie after it was painfully obvious that well-armed South Carolina militiamen could overwhelm and capture the fort. The situation became critical, so on December 26, he decided to move the garrison to Fort Sumter.

To accomplish the ruse, boats were cleverly concealed on the waterfront, a sunset parade of men was held on the grounds to present a picture of normalcy to prying eyes, and dinner was placed on the table of the officers’ mess, though it was later transferred and eaten at Sumter.

The plan was so secret that even Captain Abner Doubleday, Anderson’s second in command, wasn’t notified until 20 minutes before the evacuation. The only personnel notified early of Anderson’s plans were an engineer who supplied the rowboats, schooners, and barges to be used for transporting the families of the men, and an officer who was put in charge of three boats for them. The schooners were loaded in broad daylight with supplies for Fort Sumter, a normal procedure recognized by the Confederates. Anderson and some of his staff stood on the ramparts of the fort, watching the schooners sailing for the fort.

At twilight, the garrison was marched through the fort and loaded on boats that had been hidden behind the seawall. Just before dark set in, the boats shoved off, headed for the fort, and managed to elude a Confederate patrol boat; the men had removed their coats and placed them over their rifles on the bottom, and Doubleday had opened his coat to hide his buttons, in order to make him look like a civilian. The Confederates concluded that this was a boatload of workers heading for the fort and let them get under way. Behind them, a detail of men spiked the guns, burned gun carriages, cut down the flagstaff, and removed needed supplies to take over. They managed to finish in time to join their comrades the next morning. It was a well-thought-out and well-crafted operation, accomplished without a hitch, with Charleston’s civilians and militia never suspecting a thing.

Fort Sumter had an interesting history. It was one of a series of important coastal fortifications built by the U.S. government after the War of 1812. Constructed on a shoal in the middle of the harbor, it was named after Thomas Sumter, a general in the South Carolina militia during the Revolutionary War. It contained 10,000 tons of granite shipped from Maine and 60,000 tons of other rock, plus millions of bricks from local brickyards. Nearly completed before Anderson and his men occupied it, it was an imposing structure with 5-foot-thick, 50-foot-high walls and a parade ground of one acre. The facility was designed for 140 guns and a garrison of 650 officers and men. At the time of Anderson’s occupation, the fort had only 48 guns mounted on the ramparts.

The sight that met Anderson and his men at the fort must have been jolting. The parade ground was cluttered with building materials, guns, carriages, shot and shell, derricks, timber, tackle and blocks, and coils of rope.5 Undaunted, they went about cleaning up, mounting guns, bricking up unused embrasures, and hoisting barbette guns to the ramparts of the fort. It was an effort to prepare for any eventuality.

In Charleston, howls of protest went up as crowds collected in the streets to vent their anger at Anderson’s clever move. South Carolina’s governor, Francis W. Pickens, sent an envoy to the fort to demand an explanation and to order Anderson and his garrison back to Fort Moultrie. Anderson sternly refused to move, and the envoy departed in a huff, full of fuss and feathers.

Meanwhile, the Buchanan administration was doing what it could to help Fort Sumter. General Winfield Scott, now the head of the army, grew impatient and declared that Fort Sumter was to be held, provisioned, and given the help of a couple of first-class warships.6 Gloomy, pessimistic Buchanan, worried about his political legacy, believing that the secession would never be overthrown by force of arms, stood by, wringing his hands, during those tense days at Charleston. He finally got off the fence and trudged into action. He basically agreed with Scott’s assessment but was convinced that a flotilla of warships must never enter Charleston to antagonize the South Carolinians. Instead, he suggested one steamer carrying supplies, plus the screw sloop Brooklyn as a backup, to form a relief mission.

But Scott vetoed the use of the Brooklyn, declaring that the huge warship, with her 17-foot draft, would be unable to cross the bar at Charleston Harbor. In its place, the 1,172-ton brigantine-rigged side-wheel merchant steamer Star of the West was picked to carry out the mission. She left New York’s Governor’s Island on January 5, loaded with supplies and 200 troops under the command of First Lieutenant Charles B. Woods of the 9th Infantry. She arrived at the mouth of Charleston Harbor on January 9 and boldly steamed into the harbor with the troops hidden below decks lest the gunners on each side of the channel, at Sullivan’s Island and Cummings Point, get suspicious.

So far, so good. No shots were fired at them, prompting Captain John McGowan to stay his course. It began to look as if the mission might succeed.

Suddenly, a shot arced high from Morris Island and plunged into the water ahead of the vessel. Then a series of shots followed, one of which landed near the rudder; another skidded across the forechains. The situation became hopeless, and after Captain McGowan had conferred with Lieutenant Woods, he decided to abort the mission rather than risk losing his ship, its cargo, and possibly the troops.7

In Fort Sumter, the defenders, who had been eagerly and hopefully watching the progress of the ship, no doubt groaned with frustration after the ship turned around. And more than one man must have thrown down his hat in anger. But Anderson wisely refused to answer enemy guns with his own, thus forestalling war for a time.

Anderson and his troops busied themselves preparing the fort for a possible attack. They mounted 38 guns on the first tier of the casemate and along the parapets of the fort, including five heavy 11-inch artillery pieces called Columbiads, mounted on the parade ground to be used as mortars. By April 12, they had managed to mount more than 60 guns in the fort. While not nearly matching the armament of the Confederates, it was still a formidable defense. However, the specter of having supplies cut off was of real concern to the defenders.

Back at the flotilla, Fox was eagerly awaiting the arrival of the Powhatan, but the powerful warship never came. Unknown to him, she had been diverted to relieve Fort Pickens at Pensacola, Florida. It was later revealed that the secretary of state, William Henry Seward, had presented some papers for Lincoln to sign, and without reading them, the president signed all. One of the papers contained an order for the Powhatan to report to Fort Pickens, thus overriding Welles’ order for the warship to accompany the Fox expedition. Fuming with anger, Welles tried to recall the Powhatan, but it was too late for Captain David Porter to reverse course for Pensacola, citing his orders from Lincoln. It is a military given that the president’s orders always take precedence over all other orders.8

Soon after the Fox flotilla had arrived off Charleston Harbor, the city’s newspaper, the Charleston Mercury, indignantly declared that “the gage is thrown down and we accept the challenge.” It was clear that the new Confederacy was ready for war.

Meanwhile, General Pierre G. T. Beauregard had taken command of Confederate forces at Charleston in March. He repeatedly demanded the evacuation of Fort Sumter but eventually grew impatient and decided that the time was ripe for action. His aide-de-camp, James Chestnut Jr., wrote the following message to Colonel Anderson:

SIR: By authority of Brigadier-General Beauregard, c...