The Continental Monthly, Vol. 2, No. 1, July, 1862Various
History
The Continental Monthly, Vol. 2, No. 1, July, 1862
Various
Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals; United States -- Politics and government -- 19th century -- Periodicals
The morning was clear and beautiful, but not calm. A stiff breeze
came from the East, as if to bear the terrific reports of the
cannonading to Savannah, whose distant spires and towers gleamed in
the sun. Our blockading fleet, with accompanying transports, lay at
anchor in Tybee harbor. Here and there a gunboat, firing occasional
shots, could be seen moving about in Wilmington sound, while the
Unadilla, Hale, and Western World occupied their positions in
Wright and Mud rivers. Tatnall's fleet was no where to be seen, and
all things in the direction of Savannah seemed as quiet as though
that city was peacefully and securely reposing, as in other days,
under the broad folds of the American Union.
It was a sad and woful day to the cities of the South, when her
rebel princes renounced their allegiance to the government, and
raised the traitor arm of rebellion against its authority. Imagined
evils, in connection with the Union, were then converted into real
ones, and these have been augmented a thousand-fold in the
severance from that Union. When the South shall 'come to
herself'--if she ever does--like the prodigal son, she will find
her condition quite as pitiable, and in rags and wretchedness, she
will seek her father's house, willing, no doubt, to occupy a
servant's place in the national household. Nor until true and
genuine repentance shall come to her, can she hope for a father's
forgiveness and a prodigal's reception and restoration.
Boom! boom!! boom!!! as if the last great day of vengeance had
come, and you could hear the screeching of a thousand fiends in the
air hastening to their destiny, come upon the ear, as Tybee utters
her thunders, and pours out her vials of wrath. See that cloud of
dust which shoots up like a volcano, and looks as though the whole
east side of the fort had fallen in! Bolts of iron, like winged
battering-rams, are ploughing fearfully through her belabored side.
Before this cloud has passed away, you see, just above it, another,
not dark and angry, but in appearance white and spherical as the
moon. A shell has exploded, and rained its iron fragments into the
fort.
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