Sus­pi­cion was pal­pa­ble on Tues­day, April 9, as Edmund Ruf­fin pre­pared to leave his hotel and make his way to the Charleston wharf. With a small car­pet bag and a bor­rowed mus­ket from the Citadel Mil­i­tary Acad­e­my in hand, Ruf­fin board­ed a steam­er bound for Mor­ris Island, where he intend­ed to take part in its defense. Known for his strong pro-seces­sion­ist views, Ruf­fin enjoyed the atten­tion he received upon arrival, which ranged from admi­ra­tion to praise. Though the recog­ni­tion seemed exces­sive for what he con­sid­ered a small con­tri­bu­tion, it left him with mixed feel­ings of pride and dis­com­fort. His involve­ment, though minor, had drawn sig­nif­i­cant atten­tion, and he had become a sym­bol of South­ern deter­mi­na­tion, even if he wasn’t ful­ly sat­is­fied with the man­ner in which his role was per­ceived.

Upon his arrival at Mor­ris Island, Ruf­fin was greet­ed warm­ly by a rifle com­pa­ny cap­tain, who encour­aged vol­un­teers to cheer for him. While he accept­ed the acco­lades mod­est­ly, some sol­diers pri­vate­ly found his eager­ness to be slight­ly amus­ing. It was clear to them that although Ruf­fin was keen to par­tic­i­pate, his pri­ma­ry moti­va­tion seemed to stem from a desire for recog­ni­tion, rather than from a deep com­mit­ment to the war effort. Despite this, Ruf­fin main­tained a friend­ly and approach­able demeanor, inter­act­ing eas­i­ly with those around him and enjoy­ing the com­forts pro­vid­ed by Charleston’s wealthy fam­i­lies. He indulged in the lux­u­ries offered by the elite but remained mod­er­ate in his indul­gences, avoid­ing any exces­sive dis­play of his new­found sta­tus. His pres­ence was a source of pride for many, though some ques­tioned the extent of his actu­al involve­ment in the mil­i­tary oper­a­tions.

Ruffin’s deci­sion-mak­ing on Mor­ris Island reflect­ed his desire to stay con­nect­ed to the action. He turned down offers to serve at dis­tant artillery bat­ter­ies, pre­fer­ring instead a posi­tion where he could engage more direct­ly in the con­flict. He opt­ed to sleep on a pal­let in a tent shared with fel­low vol­un­teers, enjoy­ing the cool, breezy nights that brought rest and com­fort. As part of his attempt to solid­i­fy his place with­in the Con­fed­er­ate ranks, Ruf­fin accept­ed an invi­ta­tion to join the pres­ti­gious Pal­met­to Guard. He insist­ed, how­ev­er, that his role would be lim­it­ed to active mil­i­tary oper­a­tions, and he empha­sized the neces­si­ty of a for­mal agree­ment that would ele­vate his sta­tus as a hero­ic fig­ure. This deci­sion fur­ther under­scored his desire for recog­ni­tion, as he worked to cre­ate a nar­ra­tive of val­or and com­mit­ment that would be acknowl­edged by his peers and the larg­er South­ern cause.

Mean­while, in Mont­gomery, Pres­i­dent Jef­fer­son Davis con­vened his cab­i­net to address the increas­ing­ly tense sit­u­a­tion sur­round­ing Fort Sumter. The fort, fly­ing the U.S. flag, had become a con­stant sym­bol of Union pres­ence in Charleston Har­bor, a pres­ence that Con­fed­er­ate lead­ers could no longer ignore. An impend­ing naval expe­di­tion to deliv­er sup­plies to Fort Sumter was rais­ing con­cerns with­in the Con­fed­er­a­cy. While the mis­sion to pro­vide food could be seen as a ges­ture of benev­o­lence, it also risked pro­long­ing the Union’s hold on the fort and could poten­tial­ly be a pre­text for mil­i­tary rein­force­ment or even an attempt to seize con­trol of Charleston. This cre­at­ed a con­flict with­in the Con­fed­er­ate lead­er­ship, as some mem­bers were torn between the val­ues of chival­ric hon­or and the strate­gic impor­tance of remov­ing the threat posed by the fort.

Davis voiced his skep­ti­cism about Pres­i­dent Lincoln’s notice regard­ing the expe­di­tion, deem­ing it lack­ing in sin­cer­i­ty. He argued that while Major Anderson’s brav­ery was com­mend­able, the con­tin­ued pres­ence of the fort in Con­fed­er­ate ter­ri­to­ry required an imme­di­ate response. The cab­i­net leaned toward demand­ing that Ander­son sur­ren­der the fort, and Gen­er­al Beau­re­gard was pre­pared to take action if nec­es­sary, even if it meant dis­man­tling the fort by force. In the midst of these dis­cus­sions, Sec­re­tary of State Robert Toombs raised a cau­tion­ary note, warn­ing that any attack on the fort could esca­late ten­sions and ignite a vio­lent civ­il con­flict. He pre­dict­ed that such an action would only wors­en the already strained rela­tions between the North and South, lead­ing to an inevitable clash that would con­sume the nation in war. Despite these warn­ings, the cab­i­net ulti­mate­ly moved toward a deci­sion that would set the stage for a con­fronta­tion that could no longer be avoid­ed.

The deci­sions made dur­ing this cab­i­net meet­ing high­light­ed the ten­sion between pre­serv­ing South­ern hon­or and respond­ing prag­mat­i­cal­ly to the grow­ing threat from the Union. While some with­in the Con­fed­er­a­cy want­ed to take a more diplo­mat­ic approach, oth­ers saw the sit­u­a­tion as one of sur­vival and strate­gic neces­si­ty. The pos­si­bil­i­ty of an attack on Fort Sumter seemed immi­nent, and as the cab­i­net con­tin­ued to delib­er­ate, it became clear that war was becom­ing a fore­gone con­clu­sion. The mil­i­tary prepa­ra­tions were under­way, and the debate with­in the Con­fed­er­ate lead­er­ship reflect­ed the urgency and anx­i­ety of a nation on the brink of war. This chap­ter encap­su­lates the del­i­cate bal­ance of polit­i­cal maneu­ver­ing, mil­i­tary strat­e­gy, and per­son­al ambi­tion as both sides pre­pared for the inevitable con­flict that would soon engulf the nation.