Crackey! Excited Letter from Charleston on Eve of Fort Sumter Attack

On April 10, 1861, Charleston, South Carolina, was a beehive of activity, bursting with excitement and preparation. A Yankee fleet was on its way to relieve Fort Sumter in Charleston Harbor, and the Rebels were determined to attack the fort before its garrison could be strengthened. The opening shots of the Civil War were still two days away -- the first mortar round was fired at 4:30 a.m. on April 12 -- but war fever already gripped Charleston.

A merchant in the city wrote his brother the following letter, describing the scene as only a firsthand witness can. It was printed in the April 17, 1861, issue of the Philadelphia Inquirer (Philadelphia, Pennsylvania) – just three days after Fort Sumter surrendered and was occupied by Confederate troops:

Letter from Charleston

From a merchant in that city to his brother in Philadelphia

Charleston, S.C., C.S.A., April 10, 1861

You should have been in this excited town on Monday night. The war feeling boiled over at last, and things really began to look like having a fight. Big oaths had been sworn, and big talking talked, all day. Rain was falling heavily, driving street speechifyers and swearers into the grog shops. The great cause of excitement was the fitting out of the fleet at New York, which, we are told, is for the purpose of chastising the rebellious States. As we had been about as rebellious as any of them, of course we thought our turn ought to come first. So orders had been given to our “Navy” to keep a sharp lookout for suspicious craft, and report if any should be seen. Seven guns from the Citadel were anxiously looked for as a signal that the suspicious craft was in sight, and that the reserved troops were to bestir themselves. About 11 o’clock, the seven guns gave their solemn notification to the chivalry. Old Charleston, (who keeps good hours), woke up and rubbed his eyes. Young Charleston rushed out of the bar-rooms into the wet, eager for the fray; went and got his gun and things, and by midnight was ready to go anywhere and do anything. “The enemy” was upon us. Our “hearths and homes” were invaded.

On Tuesday morning, a man came into town on horseback, all the way round by the way of the new bridge (across Ashley river). Hoss was sweaty – man out of breath. Startling intelligence! Fleet off Stono inlet! Going to land an army there, and march up behind our batteries. Crackey! Our batteries won’t work hinder end foremost! What’s to be done? Orders hurriedly sent for more country troops – more big guns hauled down town from the Citadel – a darkey with two mules fastened to a little cannon rattles down the street and disappears in the distance. That is the “flying artillery.” Six thousand brave solider-clothes men all ready. Floating batteries put into right position; not, as was announced, four hundred yards from Sumter, but three-quarters of a mile off, in water where she will rest on a mud flat only a foot below her bottom in case she sinks. She can’t upset there. Parson Yates’ school-ship has resumed her peaceful position off the battery. The reverend gentleman now wears a full suit of homespun, and looks more savage than clerical. The young sailors annoy him greatly by bringing tobacco on board, whenever they return from “leave of absence.”

I close in haste, and amid intense excitement. Look out for something desperate before many days. If Anderson don’t evacuate, the brave 6,000 will pitch into him.

N.B.