the
Harriet Lane,
the
Pawnee,
the
Baltic,
the
Powhatan,
and the
Pocahontas.
Fox, a former naval lieutenant and woolen goods merchant, was a Massachusetts native who would several months hence become
the assistant secretary of the navy. But the movements coordinated by Fox were impeded by heavy seas and a dense fog that
formed before dawn.
On the morning of April 13, the storm subsided. Gunfire from Sumter was slowed considerably in order to conserve ammunition.
Confederate fire was hot, however, in both senses of the word. By 8 a.m. hot shot from Rebel guns started a fire in Sumter’s
officers’ quarters, and despite the improvised firefighting efforts, the blaze was slowly spreading. Anderson and his officers
worried about the possibility of flames or sparks reaching the magazine, which would be catastrophic.
The shot and shell rained in as heavily as ever. Sparks, cinders, and burning pieces of debris launched upward only to rain
down on the spreading fire, eventually igniting several shells and kegs of powder, causing a few large explosions. Desperate,
Anderson had much of the powder thrown into the harbor.
By now the whole fort was becoming an inferno; the Federal ships were nowhere in sight, and the sally port and heavy entrance
gates had been wrecked by shell fire. The flagstaff had been splintered repeatedly. At 1:30 p.m. the flagstaff in Sumter fell.
Col. Louis Trezevant Wigfall had returned to his native state and had joined G. T. Beauregard’s staff as an aide-de-camp.
James Simons, a brigadier general of the South Carolina militia, was determined to find out if this act meant surrender. Before
Simons could get an official party off in a nearby rowboat, however, Wigfall demanded that Pvt. Gourdin Young of the Palmetto
Guard row him out to the fort. In a bizarre scene aboard a skiff, Wigfall and Young moved north amid the hail of metal. Once
Wigfall reached the esplanade, he tied a white kerchief to his sword, got out of the boat, and approached the sally port.
Wigfall found Capt. Jefferson C. Davis (no relation to the Confederate president) and exclaimed that Beauregard had suggested
surrender was inevitable. Wigfall then went atop the parapet and waved a white flag, but the firing continued. Anderson approached
and said he would capitulate to leave now, rather than on April 15, if the garrison could take its arms and property, honor
the United States by saluting its flag, and be transported northward. This was acceptable, said Wigfall. Wigfall had absolutely
no authority from Beauregard or anyone else to accept such terms; he did so of his own volition.
The politician returned to Morris Island in the skiff, which flew a white flag, and firing died down from all points. Now,
to confuse the issue further, Beauregard’s authorized emissaries—Pryor, Lee, and the politician William Porcher Miles—approached
the fort. They inquired about Anderson’s needs and discussed the situation of the blaze, which was dying down. They asked
Anderson about surrender terms, and he replied that terms had already been agreed on with Wigfall. The three Confederates
were dumbfounded and explained that Wigfall had no such authority and that he hadn’t even seen Beauregard for two days. Confused,
the men stood inside the crumbled and burning fort and discussed the surrender. Anderson became upset about the misunderstanding.
“Very well, gentlemen, you may return to your batteries,” he snapped at his artillerists. 16 But Pryor, Lee, and Miles convinced him to continue a cease-fire until they could talk again with Beauregard, who accepted
all the terms except for allowing the Yankees to salute their flag.
After further negotiation, the parties agreed to evacuate and transfer themselves and their supplies on the next morning,
Sunday, April 14. The Yankees marched out of the fort “with colors flying and drums beating,” Anderson recounted. 17 After thirty-four hours of
Harriet Lane,
the
Pawnee,
the
Baltic,
the
Powhatan,
and the
Pocahontas.
Fox, a former naval lieutenant and woolen goods merchant, was a Massachusetts native who would several months hence become
the assistant secretary of the navy. But the movements coordinated by Fox were impeded by heavy seas and a dense fog that
formed before dawn.
On the morning of April 13, the storm subsided. Gunfire from Sumter was slowed considerably in order to conserve ammunition.
Confederate fire was hot, however, in both senses of the word. By 8 a.m. hot shot from Rebel guns started a fire in Sumter’s
officers’ quarters, and despite the improvised firefighting efforts, the blaze was slowly spreading. Anderson and his officers
worried about the possibility of flames or sparks reaching the magazine, which would be catastrophic.
The shot and shell rained in as heavily as ever. Sparks, cinders, and burning pieces of debris launched upward only to rain
down on the spreading fire, eventually igniting several shells and kegs of powder, causing a few large explosions. Desperate,
Anderson had much of the powder thrown into the harbor.
By now the whole fort was becoming an inferno; the Federal ships were nowhere in sight, and the sally port and heavy entrance
gates had been wrecked by shell fire. The flagstaff had been splintered repeatedly. At 1:30 p.m. the flagstaff in Sumter fell.
Col. Louis Trezevant Wigfall had returned to his native state and had joined G. T. Beauregard’s staff as an aide-de-camp.
James Simons, a brigadier general of the South Carolina militia, was determined to find out if this act meant surrender. Before
Simons could get an official party off in a nearby rowboat, however, Wigfall demanded that Pvt. Gourdin Young of the Palmetto
Guard row him out to the fort. In a bizarre scene aboard a skiff, Wigfall and Young moved north amid the hail of metal. Once
Wigfall reached the esplanade, he tied a white kerchief to his sword, got out of the boat, and approached the sally port.
Wigfall found Capt. Jefferson C. Davis (no relation to the Confederate president) and exclaimed that Beauregard had suggested
surrender was inevitable. Wigfall then went atop the parapet and waved a white flag, but the firing continued. Anderson approached
and said he would capitulate to leave now, rather than on April 15, if the garrison could take its arms and property, honor
the United States by saluting its flag, and be transported northward. This was acceptable, said Wigfall. Wigfall had absolutely
no authority from Beauregard or anyone else to accept such terms; he did so of his own volition.
The politician returned to Morris Island in the skiff, which flew a white flag, and firing died down from all points. Now,
to confuse the issue further, Beauregard’s authorized emissaries—Pryor, Lee, and the politician William Porcher Miles—approached
the fort. They inquired about Anderson’s needs and discussed the situation of the blaze, which was dying down. They asked
Anderson about surrender terms, and he replied that terms had already been agreed on with Wigfall. The three Confederates
were dumbfounded and explained that Wigfall had no such authority and that he hadn’t even seen Beauregard for two days. Confused,
the men stood inside the crumbled and burning fort and discussed the surrender. Anderson became upset about the misunderstanding.
“Very well, gentlemen, you may return to your batteries,” he snapped at his artillerists. 16 But Pryor, Lee, and Miles convinced him to continue a cease-fire until they could talk again with Beauregard, who accepted
all the terms except for allowing the Yankees to salute their flag.
After further negotiation, the parties agreed to evacuate and transfer themselves and their supplies on the next morning,
Sunday, April 14. The Yankees marched out of the fort “with colors flying and drums beating,” Anderson recounted. 17 After thirty-four hours of
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