A Boat in the Dark set the stage for an event that would for­ev­er alter the course of Amer­i­can his­to­ry. In the ear­ly hours of April 12, 1861, dur­ing a stormy night, a small boat car­ry­ing four enslaved row­ers and three Con­fed­er­ate offi­cers made its way to Fort Sumter. The fort, under Major Robert Anderson’s com­mand, had been trans­formed into a for­mi­da­ble strong­hold but was sig­nif­i­cant­ly under­manned with only sev­en­ty-five sol­diers. These sol­diers were fac­ing dire con­di­tions as food sup­plies had been cut off by Con­fed­er­ate author­i­ties, and ten­sions were esca­lat­ing between the Union and the South. The boat’s arrival marked the begin­ning of a con­fronta­tion that would ignite the Civ­il War, as Ander­son­’s defense of the fort would become a sym­bol of the con­flict to come.

Major Ander­son, a dis­ci­plined and devout man, was deeply com­mit­ted to his mis­sion, but the sit­u­a­tion he faced was increas­ing­ly des­per­ate. Sep­a­rat­ed from his wife, Eliza (Eba), and their chil­dren, who lived in a hotel while he com­mand­ed the fort, Ander­son felt the weight of his duties. Eba, suf­fer­ing from chron­ic ill­ness, relied on their daugh­ters attend­ing board­ing school to ease her bur­dens. Despite the phys­i­cal and emo­tion­al dis­tance from his fam­i­ly, Anderson’s reli­gious faith sus­tained him, as he fre­quent­ly prayed for peace and longed for their reunion. While he had once been cor­dial with Gen­er­al P.G.T. Beau­re­gard, a for­mer pupil now com­mand­ing the Con­fed­er­ate forces across the har­bor, Ander­son found him­self fac­ing an impos­si­ble choice, between sur­ren­der­ing and hold­ing his ground, with the fort sur­round­ed by mount­ing pres­sure.

Charleston, where Ander­son­’s fort stood, was a focal point of the South­ern econ­o­my, par­tic­u­lar­ly known for its par­tic­i­pa­tion in the domes­tic slave trade. The city’s res­i­dents, most­ly wealthy planters, lived lav­ish lifestyles steeped in the notion of South­ern aris­toc­ra­cy. Their soci­ety held to strict codes of hon­or, with an adher­ence to chival­ric val­ues, but despite this, South Car­oli­na seemed increas­ing­ly out of touch with the rapid­ly chang­ing world, resist­ing the advances of the indus­tri­al rev­o­lu­tion, par­tic­u­lar­ly in the face of the expand­ing rail­road sys­tem. This ide­o­log­i­cal divide reflect­ed the deep­en­ing ten­sions between the North and South, as Charleston and the sur­round­ing areas became sym­bols of the South’s com­mit­ment to pre­serv­ing its way of life, includ­ing slav­ery.

As the Con­fed­er­ate offi­cers pre­sent­ed their ulti­ma­tum to Ander­son, the pres­sure inten­si­fied, and the fort’s fate hung in the bal­ance. Ander­son and his offi­cers delib­er­at­ed over their defense options, con­clud­ing that they could sur­vive for about five days with the sup­plies they had left. In response to the Con­fed­er­ate demands, Ander­son com­mu­ni­cat­ed that he would begin an evac­u­a­tion in three days unless fur­ther orders came from the Union gov­ern­ment. This con­di­tion­al state­ment, how­ev­er, was com­pli­cat­ed by the arrival of Union sup­ply ships head­ed for Fort Sumter, which added fuel to the Con­fed­er­ate lead­er­ship’s fear that imme­di­ate action was nec­es­sary to pre­vent the Union from rein­forc­ing the fort.

The night was filled with ten­sion, as both sides pre­pared for the inevitable con­fronta­tion. Mary Boykin Ches­nut, a promi­nent South­ern writer observ­ing the events in Charleston, not­ed the strange com­bi­na­tion of fes­tive cel­e­bra­tions and anx­i­ety that per­me­at­ed the city. The antic­i­pa­tion of con­flict loomed large, cast­ing a shad­ow over the cel­e­bra­tions as South­ern­ers braced for what they believed was an inevitable war with the North. The arrival of the Con­fed­er­ate offi­cers, cou­pled with the esca­lat­ing polit­i­cal and mil­i­tary pres­sures, would soon push the nation into the Civ­il War, mark­ing a turn­ing point in Amer­i­can his­to­ry. The sit­u­a­tion at Fort Sumter sym­bol­ized the broad­er con­flict brew­ing in the nation, as the Union and the Con­fed­er­a­cy stood on the brink of open hos­til­i­ties.