Lehigh University
The Vault at PfaffsAn Archive of Art and Literature by the Bohemians of Antebellum New York
Previous Issue Next Issue
Previous Page Next Page
0 matches

Text for Page 062 [01-11-1861]

	     Sullivan�s Island.

[newspaper clipping continued: first column]
cries of recognition and even of badinage with
friends on board the steamer.  Certain of these in-
tending to disembark, and the state of the tide not
allowing the steamer to approach the pier, a boat
put off from the fort for their accommodation.  In
the meantime our passengers pelted the military
young gentlemen with newspapers, many of which
fell short of their destination, bedecking the salt
water with Mercuries and Couriers.  I noticed one
gentleman who achieved a triumphant success by
the aid of a turnip; wrapping around that vegetable
his newspaper, it alighted appropriately in the
stomach of the intended and doubtless gratified re-
  Very soon we were again steaming over the
brows waters of the bay towards Sullivan�s Island,
and, approaching it, had a good view of Fort Sum-
ter, with the stars and stripes floating defiantly in
the bright, breezy morning�provocative of com-
ment and objurgation on the part of our military
fellow-passengers.  Most of them predicted that it
would not be allowed to �insult South Carolina�
by its presence there for another week; but there
were some who, looking thoughtfully at the solid
masonry of the strong octagonal fortress, with its
double row of port-holes, (most of them closed, but
none the less suggestive for that;) its long colum-
biads pointed menacingly at its opposite neighbor,
Fort Moultrie�and knowing something of the

[newspaper clipping continued: second column]
courage and loyalty of its commander�confessed
that, if attacked, it would assuredly cost the Pal-
metto state a dear price in the blood of her brav-
est.  Some of the plans suggested for its assault, if
enumerated, would expose me to the charge of
falsification or burlesque; you may read their par-
allels in the newspapers.
  Pleasantly we steamed onwards, the sun growing
hotter overhead until it was positively sultry, a
foolish person in our bow harmlessly discharging
his revolver at such stray loons as skimmed over
the surface of the water.  Three quarters of an hour
brought us to Sullivan�s Island, where, disembark-
ing, we commenced a perspiring walk of less than 
half a mile to Fort Moultrie.
  Sullivan�s Island is all sand, a place of summer
resort for bathing and pleasure-loving Charles-
tonians, many of whom have villas upon it.  These,
at this season of the year, are all closed, Moultrie-
ville, as it is called, looking as silent and deserted
a place under the hot noon-tide as could well be
imagined, except for the straggling stream of pe-
destrians, setting, like myself and party, in the di-
rection of the fort.  The houses are almost exclu-
sively of wood, of irregular construction and
shabby aspect; the gardens horrent with the spiky
�Spanish dagger,� as I believe it is called, and
occasional palmettos, more or less genuine.  We
saw a picturesque cluster of the real article, four
in number, by the road side.

[Gunn�s handwriting]

[photograph of palmetto trees]
Palmetto trees known as the �Five Indians� on Sullivan�s Island.               
Loading content ...