Charleston Harbor
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11 April, 1861, 6:35 P.M Elkin's Boardinghouse, Charleston, South Carolina
Contrary to John Ezra's reservations, my studies in history and theology have proven fortuitous. Yesterday, Mr. Pitkins requested that I meet with Miss Elkin and compose an article for the Observer about the flags she is distributing to the volunteer regiments. So, after leaving Victoria's parents at Moore Hill, I proceeded to her boardinghouse. Needing lodging, I took the room where I now write. Long-limbed with fiery red hair pulled back into a braid, Miss Elkin stood on her porch, dispensing flags to passing South Carolina volunteers. The flag is comprised of blood red material with a small white star sown in the center and a white crescent moon in the left corner. Even in the darkness, I see the new state flag, proudly hung by Miss Elkin, the boardinghouse owner, rustling in the night breeze on its pole just below my second-story window. It is not the breath of Your Holy Spirit that blows through Charleston this night, but I fear it is the Spirit of the Anti-Christ, the Devil. The flag bears the same colors and markings as that of the former Ottoman Empire, the Moslem Turks, whose violent rule once extended across three continents. These symbols promoted by Seth Beaumont represent the enemies of Christ! With these discoveries crowding my thoughts, I descended from my room to interview the vivacious Miss Elkin. She suggested we retire to the more intimate surroundings of her private parlor. Closing and locking the door behind us, she sat beside me on the couch, placing her hand on my arm. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes staring deeply into mine. My heart skipped a beat. I feared a most compromising situation, but I was wrong in my vain estimation of her interest in me. It was of the flag that she wished to speak. In spite of Miss Elkin's forward behavior I was still unprepared for her most extraordinary revelation: Seth Beaumont had designed the flag! Beaumont had provided her a detailed sketch. She gave it to me for the article. Since secession night nearly four months ago, Miss Elkin had recruited a half dozen women to aid in the fabrication of the flags. While Miss Elkin labored in her parlor, Beaumont articulated his philosophy. I was astonished at how freely she spoke in my presence. The wine she had served at dinner, it seemed, had generously loosened her tongue. Her eyes became spirited. "Seth explained the meaning of the star and crescent, how it was the emblem of the Cavalier and the Confederate Soldier. His faith in Rebel superiority was so inspiring. He said there would be war, revolution, and bloodshed when the South rose to carry the standard of Christ." Her face beamed with pride as she told me the very minute and hour the batteries would open fire on Fort Sumter. Then she even went so far to explain how Seth served in the Confederate Army's Secret Service, reporting directly to Jefferson Davis. She believed that there was no more loyal a Confederate in all of Dixie! I was shocked by her boldness. Then the Lord gave me understanding. The brazen, haughty look in her eyes told all. She and Beaumont were lovers! I admonished Miss Elkin to reconsider her infatuation with this married man. She would not receive those words from me. I fear for this woman's safety, for if Beaumont knew that she was disclosing this information to me, she would be in grave danger. Morning comes. The moon has nearly finished tracing its course across the sky. I see the lights of Castle Pinckney directly before me, casting their reflection upon the water of Charleston Harbor. I see the distant light from the fires at Fort Moultrie. No light is visible from the Union stronghold at Fort Sumter. My pocket watch tells me that the moment draws near. It is 4:25 A.M. There is nothing to do now but wait and pray. I ponder if Beaumont's infernal red flag is but a manifestation of the already inflamed hearts and minds of rebellious South Carolinians. Momentarily, the sound of a hundred cannon will waken this land to a frightening new day. Mr. Pitkins has assigned me to cover Virginia's army because I am a Virginian. I also know Jackson and Lee from my stay at Harper's Ferry and Charlestown. The second hand ticks--it is time! It is 4:30 and the War begins! My window pane rattles from the sudden thunder of cannon fire! The boardinghouse shudders with every clap from Charleston's batteries. The heavens outside my window are aflame! Does the Devil dip his sickle through the sky? What hellish evil is now unleashed by this fury? Are spirits of violence and destruction let loose on our land? Will the grasslands of Virginia become the plains of Armageddon? How deep will the blood flow? Are we now reaping the harvest of our forefather's sin? O Soul, why did it take you so long to discern the truth? Why did it take an old French priest to teach you that the Devil has been a Murderer from the beginning? And is this war, in part, a result of that tragic day when Grandpa Will plunged his sword into the rounded belly of an innocent Indian mother-to-be? That very same sword now lies on the bed across from me, catching on the length of its razor edge the crimson light of a fire-filled sky like a line drawn in human blood, irrevocably binding the past and the present. God have mercy on the Union and Your people.
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