The Perfect Day, Part III
- 11 hours ago
- 7 min read
By Peg Eastman
In London, Lord Dartmouth, Lord North and Lord Germain planned the subjugation of the North American British colonies and, with King George III’s approval in 1775, set the secret attack date for the only day of the year composed of two perfect numbers: 6 and 28. Fortunately for America, their plan to conquer Charles Town and the lower South encountered significant problems in execution, as discussed in Parts I and II of this series. Commodore Peter Parker’s fleet arrived in South Carolina expecting a “silk glove” operation. North Carolina Royal Governor Martin and South Carolina Royal Governor Campbell insisted that once the king’s forces showed up, the people would return to the crown’s allegiance and would rise up to greet them. With this expectation, Parker had 10,000 stands of arms on board his fleet to distribute to the king’s men, and both Parker and Clinton sent written warnings to the citizens of Charles Town before the battle to cease all resistance, dissolve their illegal assemblies and return to their duty to the king or face the (violent) consequences. Both royal governors accompanied the fleet, fully anticipating being reestablished in their positions when the fleet and army restored order.
On June 28, the narrows of Charles Town Harbor were the scene of a horrific sea and fort battle. Smoke from the fierce cannon barrage between Peter Parker’s warships and the Fort Sullivan defenders prevented Charles Town’s residents from seeing what was occurring for most of the day. The thunderous cannons shook the air and pounded eardrums. Everyone was tense. For the Church of England rectors, loyalties were mixed. At St. Michael’s Church, Robert Cooper offered prayers for the king, a blessing the vestry considered inappropriate and asked him to leave on July 2, 1776. Alternatively, the Reverend Robert Smith at St. Philip’s Church had preached for years that liberty and freedom came from God, not from government. He was the chaplain of the Charles Town Artillery Company and fought with some members of his congregation at Fort Sullivan. These mixed sentiments were not uncommon throughout the state.
After nine hours and forty minutes of bombardment, the battered British warships withdrew. Charles Town went wild with enthusiasm. The Reverend Smith called the victory “a miracle.” And perhaps it was because easterly winds on the 28th increased the height of the tide and made the crossing of General Clinton’s army on Long Island more difficult by making his men on long boats vulnerable to Colonel William “Danger” Thomson’s rifles and cannon. Failing to cross the Breach Inlet made Clinton’s excuses an object of ridicule in England, where opposition papers printed an epigram called A Miracle of Sullivan’s Island.
By the Red Sea the Hebrew host detained
Through aid divine the distant shore soon gained;
The waters fled, the deep a passage gave;
But thus God wrought a chosen race to save.
Though Clinton’s troops have shared a different fate
Gainst them, poor men! Not chosen sure of heaven,
The miracle reversed is still as great,
From two feet deep the water rose to seven.
The irony of Actaeon’s sad fate lies in the British Admiralty naming their warship after a mythological Greek hero who, by a cruel twist of fate, was destroyed by his own hunting dogs. The dogs of war turned on both him and her. The perfect weapon on the perfect day never got to fire a shot at its intended target.
A footnote to HMS Actaeon is that in 1887, a British steamer struck something while entering Charleston Harbor. The U. S. Corps of Engineers investigated and found a pile of Actaeon’s cannon and shot on the harbor floor. Some of the cannons were carronades, the cast-iron naval guns that were so lethal they later gained the name “smasher” because of their deadly payload. Historians had insisted that such weapons did not see action until 1778, but interestingly, General Charles Lee is quoted as warning about the gun platform at Fort Sullivan being “a slaughtering pen” that must be abandoned. The Actaeon cannons recovered over one hundred years later went unclaimed and were used in constructing jetties. However, three cannons, including a carronade, were purchased at auction by the Military Officers of the Loyal Legion of the United States, who donated them to Lafayette Park in St. Louis, Missouri, where they are still on display.
After the battle, President Rutledge went to Fort Sullivan to congratulate the men, providing them with a barrel of rum to celebrate. In gratitude, he presented his personal sword to Sergeant William Jasper for heroically rescuing the fort’s colors during the height of the battle, likely saving the day.
The crippled British fleet remained in the mouth of the harbor, too injured to renew the fight. General Clinton’s mosquito-bitten troops evacuated Long Island, and Clinton embarked on his seven-year journey to become “the man who lost America.” Some of the fleet remained to tend to their wounded, bury their dead at sea, and repair their damaged vessels. Ships progressively crossed the bar in July; the warships would offload their cannon onto smaller boats until they got across. On August 2, the last three of his majesty’s battered ships cleared the bar and made sail.
The lingering British fleet prevented packet ships from leaving Charles Town after the battle, so couriers on horseback took news of the victory to Philadelphia, a journey that took more than two weeks. News of the triumph did not arrive there until after the Declaration of Independence had been approved by Congress. It was signed only by President John Hancock on July 4 to testify that the resolution had passed.
Copies of the Declaration were printed in Philadelphia and dispatched to all state assemblies on July 5th. State representatives would return to Philadelphia beginning on August 2 to formally sign the document. Thomas Heyward, Jr., Thomas Lynch, Jr., Arthur Middleton and Edward Rutledge were the authorized representative-signees from South Carolina. Simultaneously, Arthur Middleton and William Henry Drayton began designing the state seal, depicting the now-iconic image of a standing palmetto tree towering over an uprooted English oak tree and the Roman goddess of Hope walking over a beach of discarded British weapons, images that came to symbolize our independence.
Peter Timothy, son of Huguenot refugees who had partnered with Benjamin Franklin to publish the South Carolina Gazette in Charles Town, became a prominent supporter of the patriot cause. Fearing the British would enter the town, he suspended operations and hid his press before the attack.
When Timothy received a copy of the Declaration of Independence in late July, he hurriedly rebuilt his press and printed broadsides and pamphlets with his name signed at the bottom below an image of John Hancock’s signature. (The lone surviving original he printed is currently on display at The Charleston Museum.) After the British captured Charles Town in 1780, Timothy was exiled to Saint Augustine for signing his printings, along with other leading citizens.
The Declaration of Independence was received in Charles Town with joy and celebration. An evolution of more than 10 years from protest to resistance to rebellion to revolution culminated on August 5, 1776: independence was officially declared by civil authority in South Carolina. The first local reading of the Declaration of Independence was at the State House on the corner of Broad and Meeting streets, then a procession walked down Broad Street to the Exchange and Custom House for a second proclamation. On August 4, a general order issued by Major General Charles Lee directed all the Continental soldiers who were not on duty, to assemble at the Liberty Tree located in Mr. Mazyck’s pasture, just south of modern Charlotte Street, at 3 p.m. on August 5th to hear Major Barnard Elliott read the Declaration aloud and hear the Reverend William Percy, rector of St. Philip’s Church, preach. Afterward, the soldiers responded with musket volleys and outbursts of patriotic zeal. The Spirit of 76 ignited into a bonfire of eleutheromania. South Carolinians went from the king’s subjects to citizens of a new republic in one day.
The Reverend William Tennent, III, who witnessed the events, wrote that “no event has seemed to diffuse more general satisfaction among the people. This seems to be designed as a most important epocha [sic] in the history of South Carolina, & from this day it is no longer to be considered as a colony but as a state.” On August 6th, the Declaration was read aloud at Fort Johnson on James Island, and Fort Moultrie (formerly Fort Sullivan) on Sullivan’s Island. Afterward, handwritten copies were circulated throughout the state to enable all South Carolinians to draw strength from its powerful words.
Major General Charles Lee was credited with the victory at Fort Sullivan and dubbed the “hero of Charles Town.” Hoping for greater glories still, in August, he undertook an expedition to Georgia with volunteer troops from Virginia and North Carolina. Lee marched without supplies or necessaries, a field piece or a medicine chest. Moultrie followed with 260 S.C. troops. Lee asked him to lead an expedition to St. Augustine. Moultrie refused to do so without the proper contingent of men and supplies. They were preparing to march when an express from the Continental Congress called Lee to Philadelphia. Lee left two days later, ordering the Virginia and North Carolina Continental troops to follow. The expedition was a disaster. The S.C. troops were sickened by marching in the extreme heat, humidity and insalubrious conditions. Many of the officers were dangerously ill, and 10 to 15 men died daily.
Lee hurried to Philadelphia and was hailed as the deliverer of the South. Even members of George Washington’s staff joined in their homage to the great Lee to the disparagement of their commanding officer, who had just lost New York.
With the perspective of later events, historian Edward McCrady wrote that “Fortunately for the colonies he [Lee] was captured at an outpost by the enemy, through his own negligence … if, indeed, his capture was not part of his treachery.” The plot thickens.
My appreciation to Ken Scarlett, Bob Stockton, Jane Thornhill Schachte, and Doug MacIntyre for contributing to this article.
