In Charleston on Sat­ur­day, April 13, anx­i­ety hung heavy in the air, ren­der­ing even rou­tine tasks impos­si­ble. The morn­ing’s relent­less rain yield­ed to bril­liant sun­light, illu­mi­nat­ing the Mills House hotel while shad­ows danced along Meet­ing Street. Amidst this, can­non fire from across the bay inten­si­fied, sig­nal­ing the com­mence­ment of a new bat­tle. The Union fleet remained inac­tive, per­ceived as cow­ards by spec­ta­tors, espe­cial­ly as Fort Sumter burned.

The pre­vi­ous night had brought relief when news broke that no Con­fed­er­ate troops had been harmed. Mary excit­ed­ly not­ed, “Nobody hurt after all,” report­ing an upbeat atmos­phere at Mrs. Gidiere’s board­ing house. How­ev­er, Sat­ur­day brought renewed ten­sion as heavy fir­ing resumed. Though enslaved Black ser­vants served break­fast, the sounds of artillery made it impos­si­ble for the women to enjoy reg­u­lar meals. “None of us go to table. But tea trays per­vade the cor­ri­dors,” Mary observed, high­light­ing their ner­vous approach to sus­te­nance dur­ing such insta­bil­i­ty.

Dif­fer­ent women respond­ed to the stress in var­ied ways; some retreat­ed into soli­tude, while Mary and Mrs. Wig­fall found solace in each oth­er’s com­pa­ny over tea. Many prayed fer­vent­ly, artic­u­lat­ing faith in divine favor, yet doubt lin­gered in pri­vate dis­cus­sions com­par­ing their plight with rur­al myths about divine ret­ri­bu­tion against the Yan­kees.

Louisa Hamil­ton vis­it­ed and spirit­ed­ly dis­cussed her husband’s recent design of the float­ing bat­tery, but Mary divert­ed her atten­tion by inquir­ing about her new son. Louisa proud­ly shared that her child could imi­tate the boom­ing can­non, call­ing it “Boom boom.” Mean­while, the demeanor of the Black ser­vants remained strik­ing­ly unchanged despite the tumult—“sleepy and as respect­ful,” as Mary not­ed. Their indif­fer­ence raised queries in Mary’s mind about their under­stand­ing of the chaos sur­round­ing them.

Just then, Colonel Man­ning, with a red sash and sword, made his entrance, eager to share his expe­ri­ences under fire with Mary. His boast­ful remarks about brav­ery embod­ied a sense of pride, con­trast­ing sharply with the pal­pa­ble anx­i­ety among the women, who were nonethe­less drawn into his flir­ta­tion and tales of val­or. The clash­ing emo­tions of hope, anx­i­ety, and the stark real­i­ty of war paint­ed a vivid pic­ture of life in Charleston dur­ing this tumul­tuous time.