"Lord have mercy on my darling brothers, and keep them safe—let no harm come to them—and Dick, too—brave and strong!"
The house below was stirring with the rush of hurrying feet in the corridors and the clatter on the narrow stairs that led to the roof. They crowded to the edge and gazed seaward. The hum of voices came now from every house. Women were crying. Some were praying. Men were talking in low, excited tones.
Jennie paid no attention to the people about her.
Her eyes were fixed on those tongues of flame that circled Sumter.
Anderson was firing now, his big guns flashing their defiant answer to Beauregard's batteries. Jennie watched the lurid track of his shells with sickening dread.
A man standing beside her in the gray dawn spoke.
"A waste of ammunition!"
The cannon boomed now with the regular throb of a great human pulse. The sobs and excited cries and prayers of women had become a part of the weird scene.
A young mother stood beside Jennie with a baby boy in her arms. He was delighted with the splendid display and the roar of the guns.