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[478] Mickler was wounded; the Federal escaped. Half the garrison were killed, the other half were captured.

Night again — midnight — the Elliott battery. was masked on the Chisolm Island strand; Lambkin's Virginia battery was posted a little lower down, and a few larger pieces were at Port Royal Ferry. The cavalry (all we had) were in the woods waiting orders. Why? Well, a large steamer, the “George Washington,” had approached too near, and grounded the afternoon before. She had a sixty-four brass gun and swivel, some lighter arms, and a large, armed crew. Elliott got the news about 5 P. M. The writer was mounted, but the B. V. A., like winged demons (they wore red shirts), put me in a run to clear their swift gallop. Elliott swept by. “Gather all the moss you can and follow.” I started pulling moss, and followed with a large armful. At the bridges of Chisolm's Island I found the Captain. He was carpeting the bridge with moss, that the gun-wheels would pass over noiselessly. His prescience was wonderful. At midnight he was within three hundred yards of the steamer. His six-pounders were covered, as he waited, watching the huge craft. Just as day began to break was heard the loud breathing steam. She was trying to back clear. A few minutes elapsed, and her stern swung to the tide. “To your guns.” Elliott sprang to take a last look. “Aim; fire.” The first shot struck and richochetted over the deck. “Cut her rudder!” called out the soldier. It was done; a well-aimed shot struck the post. “Lace her waist; there's where the fire is.” Shot after shot tore through her planking and struck the furnace. The George Washington returned probably two shots, not more; it was too hot for her crew. The found their ship in flames. She burned to the water's edge, and her crew attempting to escape were destroyed, excepting about three. Later in the day a large gunboat approached and shelled the wreck. Elliott was then getting some of the plunder ashore. He waited and saw a flag of truce displayed. Answering it, he went to the gunboat in his canoe. Imagine the fearless Elliott, begrimed with powder, smeared with mud, and utterly unrecognizable, except in his erect, handsome figure, chatting with the Federal officer. “Am sorry I was not on hand when you sunk the George Washington; should like to have taken a part.” “Am sorry, indeed, that you were not,” returned Elliott. “It might have been otherwise,” replied the Federal officer. “No objection to have you try your hand,” returned Elliott. “You must let the wreck alone,” said the Federal. Elliott laughed. He left, and hung about the wreck day after day. Took out the brass gun, a lot of muskets, uniforms, nails, &c., and unshipped her bell,

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