The only naval and military operations of modern times which can at all compare with those directed against
Charleston were those of
Sebastopol, in 1853-'4, and those of
Gibraltar, in 1781-'82.
The slage of
Sebastopol, with all its incidents, is fresh in the recollection of the present generation.
The attack on
Gibraltar, although it formed the closing scene of our first Revolutionary war, has long been consigned to its shelf in history, where it sleeps among the neglected records of the past.
Yet it was one of the most memorable events of the eighteenth century, although that century witnessed the opening scenes of the great
French Revolution.
The grand combined attack upon
Gibraltar, by the whole power of
Spain and
France took plate on the 13th day of September, 1781.
There were no iron-clads in those days of wooden walls, but the allies had, through the ingenuity and perseverance of the Chevalier d'aroon, the most renowned engineer of his day, prepared a flotilla of fifty floating batteries, which were only less formidable than these much dreaded monsters of the deep.
They were the bulls of men of war, out down to the proper height, and covered over with wooden roofs of enormous thickness, over which were stretched hides with contrivances for conveying water throughout their whole extent so as to keep them continually wet. The sides were furnished with an additional layer of wooden bulwarks of equal thickness with themselves, and between the two was an interval stuffed with sand.
Pipes were contrived to pass all through these vessels, like the veins and arteries of the human body, and water was kept flowing through them by means of pumps.
Those contrivances were intended to counteract the effects of red hot shot, which there was every reason to believe the garrison would fire in no stinted quantity, and it was believed that through their means they might be effectually quenched before they could fire the vessels.
Each of these floating batteries was furnished with twelve pieces of the heaviest ordnance that had been then invented, and in order that the action might not election for want of men — even for a moment--thirty men were allotted to each gun. Fifty ships-of-the-line, and a cloud of frigates and smaller vessels, got under weigh from the port of
Algeciras to support the "monsters," and 100,000 men stood ready drawn out to assault the fortifications on the land side.
From the water side a prodigious multitude of transports, with troops to land as soon as a breach should have been made, and of tenders to furnish the fighting vessels with ammunition awaited the movements of the flotillas.
Land and sea, exclusive of the ships-of-the-line, above twelve hundred of the heaviest guns were ready at a concerted signal to open upon the devoted garrison.--These mighty preparations — published throughout Christendom — had attracted the attention of the civilized world, and the eyes of nations were bent upon
Gibraltar.
Two French Princes of the blood — both of whom were afterwards
Kings of
France--(the
Count de Provence, afterwards Louis XVIII; and the
Count D'Artois, afterwards Charles X.)--joined the camp of the allies, eager to share in the glory of an enterprise which they did not doubt would restore the important seaport of
Gibraltar to the
Spanish branch of their royal house.
To meet these formidable preparations, the
British Governor,
Sir.
Gilbert Elliott, had but 7,000 soldiers, already half starved, for they had been on short allowance for months.
But they had
hearts in their bodies, and the fortifications of
Gibraltar before them, and these latter had become a proverb for impregnability throughout the earth.
They not only did not think of surrendering, but like our brave countrymen at
Charleston the other day, were confident of beating their gigantic foe. The action commenced early in the morning.
The cannonade for hours shook the surrounding hills, and re-echoed from the neighboring shore of
Africa.
Two continents trembled beneath the rear of two thousand guns.
The hills were crowded with spectators, who looked on as in an amphitheater.
The garrison rained red-hot-shot upon the "monsters," but for hours they seemed impervious to these fearful missiles.
At last, in the evening, one of them began to smoke, and by night fall several were on fire.
The night came on intensely dark, and as boat after boat caught fire, the scene be came inexpressibly grand.
To add to its sublimity the garrison still kept up a terrific cannonade. --The allied ships made every exertion by means of boats and tenders to extinguish the fire, and to prevent the vessels from running foul of each other.
But it was all in vain.
While they were thus engaged
Capt. Curtis, who had been lying ready for the proper moment, advanced with ten gunboats, and taking flanking position, opened fire upon the burning vessels and those which were sent to relieve them.
The consequences of this unexpected attack were terrible.
The
Spaniards on the burning flotilla gave up all idea of resistance — many of them cast themselves into the sea, and were drowned.
Several of the monsters blew up, and hundreds perished by the explosion.
The British officers and sailors exerted themselves in the most praise worthy manner to save the vanquished, and their humanity cost some of them their lives.
Curris himself narrowly escaped being blown up with a vessel he had boarded to assist in rescuing the crew.
The next morning dawned on a ruined flotilla, and a day covered with burning wrecks.
The
Spaniards did not take
Gibraltar.
The attack on
Gibraltar occurred on the same day of the month with that upon
Fort McHenry thirty two years afterwards.
The repulse of the letter (as everybody knows) gave rise to the words of the "Star Spangled Banner" sung to the air (at that time very popular) of "When Bibo went Down to the
Regions below"
