Edward Alfred Pollard, The lost cause; a new Southern history of the War of the Confederates ... Drawn from official sources and approved by the most distinguished Confederate leaders.

[432] to defend forever a small island cut off from communication by an enormous fleet. It only remained for Gen. Beauregard to repair as far as possible the errour he had already committed, and to find some compensation for what had already occurred. And well did he do this secondary duty. Admitting the impracticability of defending Morris Island after the position of the enemy on it was fully established and covered by the ironclads, Gen. Beauregard yet appreciated the opportunity of holding the island long enough to replace Sumter by interiour positions, and saw clearly that every day of defence by Wagner was vital to that of Charleston. For two months this policy was successful.

Gen. Gillmore was not content with his first essay to take Fort Wagner by storm. He held a conference with Admiral Dahlgren, commanding the fleet, and determined to attempt, with the combined fire of the land batteries and the gunboats, to dismount the principal guns of the work, and either drive the Confederates from it, or open the way to a successful assault. Batteries were accordingly established, and were ready to open fire on the 18th July, when the enemy's fleet, consisting of four Monitors, the Ironsides, a frigate, and four gunboats, some of which threw shell from mortars, closed in opposite Fort Wagner.

About noon the enemy's vessels commenced hurling their heaviest shot and shell around, upon, and within Fort Wagner, and, with intervals of but a very few minutes, continued this terrible fire, until one hour after the sun had gone down. Vast clouds of sand, mud, and timber were sent high up into the air. Forty-eight hours the Monitors and the Ironsides had kept up a continuous fire, and Fort Wagner had not surrendered. For eight hours, fifty-four guns from the land batteries had hurled their shot and shell within her walls, and still she flaunted the battle-flag of the Confederacy in the face of the enemy. Once during the day the flag was shot down. Immediately it was run up about ten feet above the parapet, a little cluster of men rallied around it, waved their hats, and then disappeared, and were not again seen during the day. There was no other sign of human life about the fort. It appeared as if the garrison was dead or conquered. “But,” said a Federal officer, who watched the scene, “there were a few later developments that proved their opinion was the correct one who said this profound silence on the rebel side was significant, not of defeat and disaster, but of ultimate success in repulsing our assault; that they were keeping themselves under cover until they could look into the eyes of our men, and send bullets through their heads, and would then swarm by thousands with every conceivable deadly missile in their hands, and drive us in confusion and with terrible slaughter back to our entrenchments.”

Gillmore had selected the time of twilight for the storming party to move to the attack, in order that it might not be distinctly seen from the