ake place by sending for their
washing, packing their trunks, and making changes in their messing
arrangements.

Without knowing positively that any movement had been projected, two
circumstances excited my suspicions. Once, while I was walking with the
major on the parapet, he turned to me abruptly, and asked me what would
be the best course to take to render the gun-carriages unserviceable. I
told him there were several methods, but my plan would be to heap
pitch-pine knots around them, and burn them up. The question was too
suggestive to escape my attention.

On the day previous to our departure, I requested him to allow me to
purchase a large quantity of wire, to make an entanglement in front of
the part of the work I was assigned to defend. He said, with a quizzical
look, "Certainly; you shall have a mile of wire, if you require it."
When I proposed to send for it immediately, he smiled, and objected in
such a peculiar way that I at once saw that he was no longer interested
in our efforts to strengthen Fort Moultrie.

As a preliminary to the proposed movement, he directed the post
quartermaster, Lieutenant Hall, to charter three schooners and some
barges, for the ostensible purpose of transporting the soldiers'
families to old Fort Johnson, on the opposite side of the harbor, where
there were some dilapidated public buildings belonging to the United
States. The danger of the approaching conflict was a good pretext for
the removal of the non-combatants. All this seemed natural enough to the
enemy, and no one offered any opposition. In reality, these vessels were
loaded with supplies for all the troops, with reference to a prolonged
residence in Fort Sumter. Hall was directed to land every thing there as
soon as a signal-gun was fired. In the mean time he sailed for Fort
Johnson, and lay off and on, waiting for the signal.

Anderson had broken up his own mess, and on the last evening of our stay
(December 26th) I left my room to ask him in to take tea with us. The
sun was just setting as I ascended the steps leading to the parapet and
approached him. He was in the midst of a group of officers, each of whom
seemed silent and distrait. As I passed our assistant-surgeon, I
remarked, "It is a fine evening, Crawford." He replied in a hesitating
and embarrassed manner, showing that his thoughts were elsewhere. I saw
plainly that something unusual had occurred. Anderson approached me as I
advanced, and said quietly, "I