Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 11.
Reverend J. William Jones, Ed.

[124] commanded by Colonel Alfred H. Terry (subsequently MajorGen-eral). Both officers and men had behaved towards us with great kindness during the few days that we remained at the fort after its capture and we had become personally acquainted with quite a number of them. Now, we were the victors, and among the prisoners brought in at our end of the line, were many of our old friends of the Seventh Connecticut, who recognized and called us by name.

The news of the attack created much excitement in Charleston, and during the morning many visitors, both military and civilian, came to the island, some to assure themselves of the continued strength of our position; others to gratify a pardonable curiosity. Among the former was Brigadier-General Ripley, the district commander, who was much elated at the successful issue of the fight, and who wished to examine, personally, the ground in front of the fort.

Now, at one point in our front, torpedoes had been planted the day before, and to prevent any of the garrison from treading upon them, a sentinel was placed to warn them off. At that time the man who held this post was private Donnolly, of Company G, First Georgia, a native of the Emerald Isle, as his name would indicate, and a true son of his mother. Of any knowledge of ordinary military manoeuvres he was calmly innocent. On one occasion a Lieutenant of the company asked him, impatiently:

‘Donnolly, why don't you keep step? All the men are complaining about you.’ And received the reply:

‘Faith, its divil a one of 'em can kape shtep wid me!’

Past this hero General Ripley spurred his horse, and was riding straight for the dangerous ground, when he was suddenly brought to a halt by a loud ‘Shtop!’ uttered in the most emphatic tone, and the emphasis receiving additional point from Donnolly's attitude, as he stood with his musket at full cock, at the shoulder, and squinted along the barrel, taking dead aim at the General. For a moment there was strong probability of a vacancy among the Brigadiers of the Confederate army, but an officer rushed forward, struck up the gun, and explained to General Ripley the reason for his being halted.

Subsequently, our sentinel was asked:

‘Donnolly, what were you going to do?’

‘I was going to shot him.’

‘And why?’

‘To kape him from being blown up with the saltpaters, to be sure.’ Donnolly's comrades, in view of his little infirmities of drill, had