that Sergeant Carmody, unable to stand such futile practice any
longer, quietly stole up to the loaded guns and fired them in
succession. The aim lacked final correction; and the result was
small, except that Moultrie, thinking itself in danger,
concentrated all its efforts on silencing these guns. The
silencing seemed most effective; for Carmody could not reload
alone, and so his first shots were his last.

At nightfall Sumter ceased fire while the Confederates kept on
slowly till daylight. Next morning the officers' quarters were
set on fire by red-hot shot. Immediately the Confederates
redoubled their efforts. Inside Sumter the fire was creeping
towards the magazine, the door of which was shut only just in
time. Then the flagstaff was shot down. Anderson ran his colors
up again, but the situation was rapidly becoming impossible. Most
of the worn-out men were fighting the flames while a few were
firing at long intervals to show they would not yet give in. This
excited the generous admiration of the enemy, who cheered the
gallantry of Sumter while sneering at the caution of the Union
fleet outside. The fact was, however, that this so-called fleet
was a mere assemblage of vessels quite unable to fight the
Charleston batteries and without the slightest chance of saving
Sumter.

Having done his best for the honor of the flag, though not a man
was killed within the walls, Anderson surrendered in the
afternoon. Charleston went wild with joy; but applauded the
generosity of Beauregard's chivalrous terms. Next day, Sunday the
fourteenth, Anderson's little garrison saluted the Stars and
Stripes with fifty guns, and then, with colors flying, marched