iral tries to batter down the
fort by firing several broadsides at the same moment. At times it
seemed as if it would tumble in a heap. Once the broadsides of four
vessels struck the fort at one time; but the palmetto logs stood
unharmed. A gunner by the name of McDaniel was mortally wounded by a
cannon ball. As the dying soldier was being carried away, he cried
out to his comrades in words that will never be forgotten, "Fight on,
brave boys, and don't let liberty die with this day!"

In the hottest of the fight, the flagstaff is shot away. Down falls
the blue banner upon the beach, outside the fort.

{48} "The flag is down!" "The fort has surrendered!" cry the people
of Charleston, with pale faces and tearful eyes.

Out from one of the cannon openings leaps Sergeant William Jasper.
Walking the whole length of the fort, he tears away the flag from the
staff. Returning with it, he fastens it to the rammer of a cannon,
and plants it on the ramparts, amidst the rain of shot and shell.

[Illustration: Sergeant Jasper saves the Flag]

With the setting of the sun, the roar of battle slackens. The victory
is Moultrie's. Twilight and silence fall upon the smoking fort. Here
and there lights glimmer in the city, as the joyful people of
Charleston return to their homes. The stars look down upon the
lapping waters of the bay, where ride at anchor the shadowy vessels
of the British fleet. Towards midnight, when the tide begins to ebb,
the battered war ships slip their cables and sail out into the
darkness with their dead.

The next day, hundreds came from the city to rejoice with Moultrie
and his sturdy fighters. Governor Rutledge came down with a party of
ladies, and presented a silk banner to the fort. Calling for Sergeant
Jasper, he took his own short sword from his side, buckled it on him,
and thanked him in the name of his country. He also offered him a
lieutenant's commission, but the young hero modestly refused the
honor, saying, "I am not fitted for an officer; I am only a
sergeant."

For several days, the crippled British fleet lay in the harbor, too
much shattered to fight or to go to sea. In {49} fact, it was the
first week in August before the patriots of South Carolina saw the
last war ship and the last transport put out to sea, and fade away in
the distance. The hated redcoats were gone.

In the ten hours of active fighting, the British fleet fired
seventeen tons of powder and nearly ten thousand shot and sh