Moultrie; at the southern stood the batteries on Cummings Point;
and almost due west of Sumter stood Fort Johnson. Near Moultrie
was a four-gun floating battery with an iron shield. A mile
northwest of Moultrie, farther up the harbor, stood the Mount
Pleasant battery, nearly two miles off from Sumter. At half-past
four, in the first faint light of a gray morning, a sudden spurt
of flame shot out from Fort Johnson, the dull roar of a mortar
floated through the misty air, and the big shell--the first shot
of the real war--soared up at a steep angle, its course
distinctly marked by its burning fuse, and then plunged down on
Sumter. It was a capital shot, right on the center of the target,
and was followed by an admirable burst. Then all the converging
batteries opened full; while the whole population of perfervid
Charleston rushed out of doors to throng their beautiful East
Battery, a flagstone marine parade three miles in from Sumter, of
which and of the attacking batteries it had a perfect view.

But Sumter remained as silent as the grave. Anderson decided not
to return the fire till it was broad daylight. In the meantime
all ranks went to breakfast, which consisted entirely of water
and salt pork. Then the gun crews went to action stations and
fired back steadily with solid shot. The ironclad battery was an
exasperating target; for the shot bounced off it like dried peas.
Moultrie seemed more vulnerable. But appearances were deceptive;
for it was thoroughly quilted with bales of cotton, which the
solid shot simply rammed into an impenetrable mass. Wishing to
save his men, in which he was quite successful, Anderson had
forbidden the use of the shell-guns, which were mounted on the
upper works and therefore more exposed. Shell fire would have
burst the bales and set the cotton flaming. This was so evident