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 were imperious. Lists were made out, and sent into headquarters, and officers assured that everything possible should be obtained, and the rest must be dispensed with. At the ten-inch mortar battery, fuse-plugs were still wanting, and the ordnance officer was in despair. He had brought out a specimen of one prepared for another piece, in hopes it might serve; and although one trial doubtless convinced him how vain were his hopes, he persisted in poking his plug again and again into the hole; but it was of no use. Here were these four pieces, at this most advanced position, rendered entirely useless. Not one could be fired. Finally, a happy thought struck him; there was a Yankee regiment on the island; all Yankees are whittlers; if this regiment could be turned out to-night, they might whittle enough fuse-plugs before morning to fire a thousand rounds. So we put spurs to our horses, and rode (in the darkness) bravely over the open space which separates the batteries back to camp. The Sixth Connecticut was ordered out to whittle, and did whittle to advantage, providing all the plugs that were used in battery Totten on the two succeeding days. In the ordnance yard was a confused group — wagons waiting for their piles of implements, workmen manufacturing or mending implements and weapons; others providing ammunition; officers making out lists, or filling them up, or giving various orders; every now and then a messenger arriving or leaving, all by night; a lantern burning dimly here and there; and the moon struggling to look down through misty clouds. Camp could be seen beyond some sand-hummocks in the distance; and the incessant roar of the surf prevented all noise of our hammering or shouting from reaching the ears of the beleaguered garrison, unconscious how near its fate was at hand. The sentinel on the walls cried out, “All's well ;” and a private soldier exclaimed: “Ah! you wouldn't say that, if you could see what we are about over here.” It was long past midnight before we were all abed, in the lightkeeper's house; for Gen. Gilmore's headquarters were established in the shanty where the keeper of Tybee light once slept calmly, undisturbed by wars or rumors of wars. Five of us bunked in one garret, in our blankets. We had been used to talk late into the night, but this time all the sleep that could be secured before daylight was necessary. A Major-General and three of his aids lay in the opposite room, no better off than we; a Brigadier and his staff below. One man was awake, without being called, in the morning, and that was Lieut. Wilson, who was to carry the demand for a surrender; and none of the others was later than he. Wilson had fairly earned the honor, which nobody grudged him; but how we feared he might bring back terms! Everything was got ready to open fire, so soon as he should return with a defiance. He bore a written summons from Gen. Hunter, and a man was stationed in the light-house to watch his course. His boat, with its white flag waving under the Stars and Stripes, was allowed to cross the creek that separates Tybee from Cockspur Island. He was met at the shore and detained there. It seemed an age to us who were waiting. Then word came that Ife had started to return; he was ashore; he was at headquarters. “What word did he bring?” “A sealed letter.” Just then Gen. Hunter stepped out of his room, and remarked blandly: “Gen. Gilmore, you may open fire as soon as you please.” O'Rourke, lucky dog, carried the message to Lieut. Porter, who was at battery Halleck, and to have the honor (well deserved) of firing the first gun. A classmate of his, just one year before, had fired the opening gun on Fort Sumter. So appropriately and opportunely was the insult to the Stars and Stripes avenged. The formal demand carried by Lieut. Wilson has probably already been made public. It was felicitous in calling for a surrender and restoration of Fort Pulaski. The reply was gallant: “We are here to defend, not to surrender the Fort.” So Porter opened fire, and the other batteries followed in their order, and Pulaski was not more than four or five minutes behindhand in replying, although she had not anticipated an attack so soon. In a very short while all of our own works were engaged. The great thirteen-inch mortars were long in getting the range, and, to tell the truth, did not succeed in retaining any accurate range at all. Several of the columbiads were dismounted early in the action, but not by the enemy — the accident was owing to some defect in their pintles. Then one of the mortars in battery Sherman became useless for an hour or more ; still, battery Burnside, with its single piece, was doing good execution, and up at battery McClellan the firing was rapid and accurate. Wilson was there. The three Generals and their aids were on the ground; Gen. Hunter remaining all day at a point to the left of battery Lincoln; Gen. Benham being more active, and Gen. Gilmore hard at work, knowing that his spurs were to be won. Pelouze was provoked because one of his guns was dismounted, and O'Rourke was delighted because he was bidden to put it in order, under fire. This was accomplished by the help of a detachment of volunteer engineers, of whom Col. Hall was in command. Aids and orderlies galloped across the dangerous ground, and Generals, more cautious for officers than these for themselves, ordered the younger men to take the least uncovered road. “Down, gentlemen, down,” said General Hunter, when those around him were needlessly exposing themselves. Horses fastened near the battery got frightened at the prodigious noise, and broke their bridles, scampering off to camp; no orderly could be sent, under that fire, for a horse; an aid came along soon after; as a sorry substitute, some quartermaster had lent him a brute that evidently would stand any fire without running; the rider had no spurs nor whip, and he labored the animal with the flat of his sword; so a comrade afoot, but accustomed to ride, sat down on the roadside, took off his own spurs, and fastened
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