



Produced by Charles Aldarondo





MANUEL PEREIRA

or, The Sovereign Rule of South Carolina.

With Views Of Southern Laws, Life, And Hospitality.

By F. C. Adams.


Written In Charleston, South Carolina. Washington, D. C.:

1853.



CONTENTS.


   CHAPTER I. THE Unlucky Ship
   CHAPTER II. The Steward's Bravery
   CHAPTER III. The Second Storm
   CHAPTER IV. The Charleston Police
   CHAPTER V. Mr. Grimshaw, the Man of the County
   CHAPTER VI. The Janson in the Offing
   CHAPTER VII. Arrival of the Janson
   CHAPTER VIII. A New Dish of Secession
   CHAPTER IX. A few Points of the Law
   CHAPTER X. The Prospect Darkening
   CHAPTER XI. The Sheriff's Office
   CHAPTER XII. The Old Jail
   CHAPTER XIII. How it is
   CHAPTER XIV. Manuel Pereira Committed
   CHAPTER XV. The Law's Intricacy
   CHAPTER XVI. Plea of Just Consideration and Mistaken Constancy of the Laws
   CHAPTER XVII. Little George, the Captain, and Mr. Grimshaw
   CHAPTER XVIII. Little Tommy and the Police
   CHAPTER XIX. The Next Morning, and the Mayor's Verdict
   CHAPTER XX. Emeute among the Stewards
   CHAPTER XXI. The Captain's Interview with Mr. Grimshaw
   CHAPTER XXII. Copeland's Release and Manuel's close Confinement
   CHAPTER XXIII. Imprisonment of John Paul, and John Baptiste Pamerlie
   CHAPTER XXIV. The Janson Condemned
   CHAPTER XXV. George the Secessionist, and his Father's Ships
   CHAPTER XXVI. A Singular Reception
   CHAPTER XXVII. The Habeas Corpus
   CHAPTER XXVIII. The Captain's Departure and Manuel's Release
   CHAPTER XXIX. Manuel's Arrival in New York
   CHAPTER XXX. The Scene of Anguish
   CONCLUSION
   APPENDIX




INTRODUCTION.


OUR generous friends in Georgia and South Carolina will not add among
their assumptions that we know nothing of the South and Southern life. A
residence of several years in those States, a connection with the press,
and associations in public life, gave us opportunities which we did
not lose, and have not lost sight of; and if we dipped deeper into the
vicissitudes of life and law than they gave us credit for at the time,
we trust they will pardon us, on the ground of interest in the welfare
of the South.

Perhaps we should say, to support the true interests of the South, we
should and must abandon many of those errors we so strenuously supported
in years past; and thus we have taken up the subject of our book, based
upon the practical workings of an infamous law, which we witnessed upon
the individual whose name forms a part of the title.

Imprisoning a shipwrecked sailor, and making it a penal offence for
a freeman to come within the limits of a republican State, whether
voluntarily or involuntarily, seems to be considered commonplace,
instead of barbarous in South Carolina. This may be accounted for by the
fact that the power of a minority, created in wrong, requiring barbarous
expedients to preserve itself intact, becomes an habitual sentiment,
which usage makes right.

This subject has been treated with indifference, even by the press,
which has satisfied itself in discussing the abstract right as a
question of law, rather than by disclosing the sufferings of those who
endure the wrong and injustice. When we are called upon to support, and
are made to suffer the penalty of laws founded in domestic fear, and
made subservient to various grades of injustice, it becomes our duty
to localize the wrong, and to point out the odium which attaches to the
State that enacts such laws of oppression.

A "peculiar-institution" absorbs and takes precedence of every thing;
its protection has become a sacred element of legislative and private
action; and fair discussion is looked upon as ominous, and proclaimed
as incendiary. But we speak for those who owe no allegiance to
that delicate institution; citizens to all intents and, purposes
(notwithstanding their dark skins) of the countries to which they
severally belong; peaceable persons, pursuing their avocations, to
provide a respectable maintenance for their families, and worthy of the
same protective rights claimed by the more fortunate citizens of such
countries. In doing this we shall give a practical illustration of the
imprisonment of four individuals in South Carolina, and ask those who
speculate in the abstract science of State sovereignty, to reflect upon
the issue of that lamentable injustice which inflicts punishment upon
persons guiltless of crime. We prefer to be plain, and we know our
Southern friends will not accuse us of misconstruction, for we have
their interests at heart, as well as the cause of humanity, which we
shall strive to promote, in spite of the struggles of modern barbarism,
seeking to perpetuate itself. Fear, the inventor of such pretexts as are
set up, and mantled in Southern modesty, must remodel its code for South
Carolinians, before it can assert a power unknown to law, or trample
upon the obligations of treaty, or enforce nullification of individual
rights.

CHARLESTON, S. C., July 17,1852.




MANUEL PEREIRA.



CHAPTER I. THE UNLUCKY SHIP.



THE British brig Janson, Thompson, master, laden with sugar, pimento,
&c. &c. left Kingston, Jamaica, in the early part of March, in the
present year, bound for Glasgow. The skipper, who was a genuine son
of the "Land o' Cakes," concluded to take the inside passage, and run
through the gulf. This might have been questioned by seamen better
acquainted with the windward passage; but as every Scotchman likes to
have his own way, the advice of the first officer--an experienced salt
in the West India waters--went to leeward. On rounding Cape Antoine, it
was evident that a strong blow was approaching. The clouds hung their
dark curtains in threatening blackness; and, as the sharp flashes of
lightning inflamed the gloomy scene, the little bark seemed like a speck
upon the bosom of the sea. It was the first mate's watch on deck. The
wind, then blowing from the W.S.W., began to increase and veer into the
westward; from whence it suddenly chopped into the northward. The mate
paced the quarter wrapt in his fearnought jacket, and at every turn
giving a glance aloft, then looking at the compass, and again to the man
at the wheel, as if he had an instinct of what was coming.

He was a fearless navigator, yet, like many others who had yielded to
the force of habit, was deeply imbued with that prevalent superstition
so common to sailors, which regards a particular ship as unlucky.
Imagine an old-fashioned boatswain, with north-country features strongly
marked, a weather-beaten face, and a painted south-wester on his head,
and you have the "Mister Mate" of the old brig Janson.

"Keep her full, my hearty. We must take in our light sails and go on
the other tack soon. If we don't catch it before daylight, I'll miss my
calculation. She's an unlucky old craft as ever I sailed in, and if the
skipper a'n't mighty careful, he'll never get her across. I've sworn
against sailing in her several times, but if I get across in her this
time, I'll bid her good-by; and if the owners don't give me a new craft,
they may get somebody else. We're just as sure to have bad luck as if we
had cats and parsons aboard."

Thus saying, he descended the companion-way, and reported the appearance
of the weather to the skipper, who arose quickly, and, consulting his
barometer, found it had fallen to near the lowest scale. After inquiring
the quarter of the wind, and how she headed, what sail she was carrying,
and the probable distance from the cape, he gave orders to call all
hands to take in the topgallant-sails, double reef the fore, and single
reef the maintop-sails, and stow the flying-jib--dressed himself, and
came on deck. Just as he put his head above the slide of the companion,
and stopped for a minute with his hands resting upon the sides, a vivid
flash of lightning hung its festoons of fire around the rigging, giving
it the appearance of a chain of livid flame.

"We'll catch the but-end of a gulf sneezer soon. Tell the boys to bear
a hand with them sails. We must get her snug, and stand by to lay
her under a double-reefed maintop-sail and jib, with her head to the
northward and eastward. We may make a clear drift--chance if it lasts
long," said Skipper Thompson, as he stood surveying the horizon and his
craft. Scarcely had he given the orders before the storm burst upon them
with all its fury. Its suddenness can only be appreciated by those who
have sailed in the West India passages, where the sudden shocks of the
short-chopping sea acts with a tremendous strain upon the hull of a
heavy-laden vessel. The captain ran to the windward gangway, hurrying
his men in the discharge of their duty, and giving another order to
clew up the coursers and foretop-sail. Just as the men had executed the
first, and were about to pull on the clew-lines of the latter, a sudden
gust took effect upon the bag of the sail and carried it clean from the
bolt-ropes. The halyards were lowered and the yards properly braced
up, while the Janson was brought to under the canvas we have before
described. In a few minutes more the wind had increased to a gale, and,
as the sailors say, several times the old craft "wouldn't look at it."
Several times we had to put her helm up, and as many times she shipped
those forcing cross seas which drive every thing before them, and sweep
the decks. At length a piece of canvas was lashed to the fore-rigging
which gave her a balance, and she rode easy until about five o'clock in
the morning, when by a sudden broach the canvas was carried away, and a
tremendous sharp sea boarded her forward; starting several stanchions,
carrying away part of her starboard bulwark and rail, and simultaneously
the foretop-gallant-mast, which snapped just above the withe. As a
natural consequence, every thing was in the utmost confusion--the old
hull worked in every timber. The wreck swayed to and fro, retarding the
working of the vessel and endangering the lives of those who attempted
to clear it from obstruction. Thus she remained for more than half an
hour, nearly on her beam-ends, and at the mercy of each succeeding sea
that threatened to engulf her.

As daylight broke, the wind lulled, and, as usual in those waters,
the sea soon ran down. Enabled to take the advantage of daylight,
they commenced to clear away the wreck. In the mean time it was found
necessary to remove the fore-hatch in order to get out some spare sails
that had been stowed away near the forward bulkhead, instead of a more
appropriate place. The mate, after trying the pumps in the early part of
the gale, reported that she had started a leak; which, however, was so
trifling as to require but one man to keep her free, until she broached,
and carried away her topgallant-mast. The man on duty then reported
the water increasing, and another was ordered to assist him. On an
examination in the morning, it was found that she was strained in the
fore-channels, and had started a but.

"She's an unlucky concern, skipper," said the mate as he brought the axe
to take the battons off the forehatch. "A fellow might as well try to
work a crab at low tide as to keep her to it in a blow like that. She
minds her helm like a porpoise in the breakers. Old Davy must have put
his mark upon her some time, but I never know'd a lucky vessel to be got
as she was. She makes a haul on the underwriters every time she drifts
across; for I never knew her to sail clear since I shipped in the old
tub. If she was mine, I'd find a place for her at somebody's expense."

The sea became smooth, the water was found to have receded, the wind,
light, had hauled to W.S.W., and Cape Antoine was judged by dead
reckoning to bear S.S.W. about thirty miles distant. The larboard
fore-shrouds were found to have been scorched by the lightning, which
had completely melted the tar from the after-shroud. All hands were now
busily employed repairing the wreck, which by two o'clock P.M. they had
got so far completed as to stand on their course in the gulf, at the
rate of six knots an hour.

The skipper now consulted in his mind as to the expediency of making for
Havana or proceeding on his cruise. The leak had materially diminished,
and, like all old vessels, though she gave a good portion of work at
the pumps, a continuation of good weather might afford an opportunity
to shove her across. Under these feelings, he was inclined to give the
preference to his hopes rather than yield to his fears. He considered
the interest of all concerned--consulted his mate, but found him
governed by his superstition, and looking upon the issue of his life
about as certain whether he jumped overboard or "stuck by the old tub."
He considered again the enormous port-charges imposed in Havana, the
nature of his cargo in regard to tariff, should his vessel be condemned,
and the ruinous expenses of discharging, &c. &c. together with the cost
of repairs, providing they were ordered. All these things he considered
with the mature deliberation of a good master, who has the general
interests of all concerned at heart. So, if he put away for a port, in
consideration of all concerned, his lien for general average would have
strong ground in maritime law; yet there were circumstances connected
with the sea-worthy condition of the craft--known to himself, if not to
the port-wardens, and which are matters of condition between the master
and his owners--which might, upon certain technicalities of law, give
rise to strong objectionable points. With all these glancing before
him, he, with commendable prudence, resolved to continue his voyage, and
trust to kind Providence for the best.

"Captain," said the mate, as he stood viewing the prospect, with a
marlinespike in one hand and a piece of seizing in the other--"I verily
think, if that blow had stuck to us two hours longer, the old tub would
a' rolled her futtocks out. Ye don't know her as well as I do. She's
unlucky, anyhow; and always has been since she sot upon the water. I've
seen her top-sides open like a basket when we've been trying to work her
into port in heavy weather: and a craft that won't look nearer than
nine points close-hauled, with a stiff breeze, ought to be sent into the
Clyde for a coal-droger. An old vessel's a perfect pickpocket to owners;
and if this old thing hasn't opened their purses as bad as her own
seams, I'll miss my reckonin'. I've had a strong foreknowledge that we
wouldn't get across in her. I saw the rats leaving in Jamaica--taking
up their line of march, like marines on the fore. It's a sure sign. And
then I'd a dream, which is as sure as a mainstay--never deceives me. I
can depend on its presentiment. I have dreamed it several times, and we
always had an awful passage. Twice we come within a bobstay of all
goin' to Old Davy's store-house. I once escaped it, after I'd had my
mysterious dream; but then I made the cook throw the cat overboard just
after we left port, and 'twas all that saved us."

Thus saying, he went forward to serve a topgallant-stay that was
stretched across the forecastle-hatch from the cat-heads, and had just
been spliced by the men, followed by an old-fashioned sea-urchin, a
miniature of the tar, with a mallet in his hand. The captain, although
a firm, intelligent man, and little given to such notions of fate as
are generally entertained by sailors, who never shake off the spiritual
imaginings of the forecastle, displayed some discomfiture of mind at
the strong character of the mate's misgivings. He knew him to be a good
sailor, firm in his duty, and unmoved by peril. This he had proved on
several occasions when sailing in other vessels, when the last ray
of hope seemed to be gone. He approached the mate again, and with a
pretence of making inquiries about the storage of the cargo, sounded
him further in regard to his knowledge of the Bahamas, and with special
reference to the port of Nassau.

"Six-tenths of her timbers are as rotten as punk," said the mate; "this
North American timber never lasts long; the pump-wells are defective,
and when we carry sail upon her, they don't affect the water in the
lee-bilge, and she rolls it through her air-streaks like a whale. She'll
damage the best cargo that ever floated, in that way. Take my word for
it, skipper, she'll never go across the Banks; she'll roll to splinters
as soon as she gets into them long seas; and if we get dismasted again,
it's gone Davy."

"I know the old scow before to-day, and wouldn't shipped in her, if I
hadn't been lime-juiced by that villanous landlord that advanced me the
trifle. But I seen she was as deep as a luggerman's sand-barge, and I
popped the old cat overboard, just as we rounded the point coming out
o' Kingston harbour," said a fine, active-looking sailor, who bore
every trait of a royal tar, and boasted of serving five years in the
East-India service, to his shipmate, while he continued to serve the
stay. His words were spoken in a whisper, and not intended for the
captain's ears. The captain overheard him, however; and, as a vessel is
a world to those on board, the general sentiment carries its weight
in controlling its affairs. Thus the strong feeling which prevailed on
board could not fail to have its effect upon the captain's mind.

"Well, we'll try her at any rate," said the captain, walking aft and
ordering the cabin-boy to bring up his glass; with which he took a sharp
look to the southward.

"I'd shape her course for a southern Yankee port. I haven't been much in
them, but I think we'll stand a better chance there than in these ports
where they make a speculation of wrecking, and would take a fellow's
pea-jacket for salvage." "We're always better under the protection of a
consul than in a British port," said the mate, coming aft to inform the
skipper that they had carried away the chains of the bobstay, and that
the bowsprit strained her in the knight-heads.




CHAPTER II. THE STEWARD'S BRAVERY.



DURING the worst of the gale, a mulatto man, with prominent features,
indicating more of the mestino than <DW64> character, was moving in busy
occupation about the deck, and lending a willing hand with the rest
of the crew to execute the captain's orders. He was rather tall,
well formed, of a light olive complexion, with dark, piercing eyes, a
straight, pointed nose, and well-formed mouth. His hair, also, had none
of that crimp so indicative of <DW64> extraction, but lay in dark curls
all over his head. As he answered to the captain's orders, he spoke in
broken accents, indicating but little knowledge of the English language.
From the manner in which the crew treated him, it was evident that he
was an established favourite with them as well as the officers, for
each appeared to treat him more as an equal than a menial. He laboured
cheerfully at sailor's duty until the first sea broke over her,
when, seeing that the caboose was in danger of being carried from the
lashings, and swept to leeward in the mass of wreck, he ran for that
all-important apartment, and began securing it with extra lashings. He
worked away with an earnestness that deserved all praise; not with
the most satisfactory effect for an angry sea immediately succeeding
completely stripped the furnace of its woodwork, and in its force
carried the gallant fellow among its fragments into the lee-scuppers,
where he saved himself from going overboard only by clinging to a
stanchion.

The second mate, a burly old salt, ran to his assistance, but, before
he reached him, our hero had recovered himself, and was making another
attempt to reach his coppers. It seemed to him as much a pending
necessity to save the cooking apparatus as it did the captain to save
the ship.

"He no catch me dis time," said he to the mate, smiling as he lifted his
drenched head from among the fragments of the wreck. "I fix a de coffee
in him yet, please God."

After securing the remains of his cooking utensils, he might be seen
busily employed over a little stove, arranged at the foot of the stairs
that led to the cabin. The smoke from the funnel several times annoyed
the captain, who laboured under the excitement consequent upon
the confusion of the wreck and peril of his vessel, bringing forth
remonstrances of no very pleasant character. It proved that the good
steward was considering how he could best serve Jack's necessities;
and while they were laboring to save the ship, lie was studiously
endeavoring to anticipate the craving of their stomachs. For when
daylight appeared and the storm subsided, the steward had a bountiful
dish of hot coffee to relieve Jack's fatigued system. It was received
with warm welcome, and many blessings were heaped upon the head of the
steward; A good "doctor" is as essential for the interests of owners and
crew as a good captain. So it proved in this instance, for while he had
a careful regard for the stores, he never failed to secure the praises
of the crew.

"When I gib de stove fire, den me gib de Cap-i-tan, wid de crew, some
good breakfas," said he with a gleam of satisfaction.

This individual, reader, was Manuel Pereira, or, as he was called by
his shipmates, Pe-rah-re. Manuel was born in Brazil, an extract of the
Indians and Spanish, claiming birthright of the Portuguese nation. It
mattered but very little to Manuel where he was born, for he had been
so long tossed about in his hardy vocation that he had almost become
alienated from the affections of birthplace. He had sailed so long under
the protection of the main-jack of old England that he had formed a
stronger allegiance to that country than to any other. He had sailed
under it with pride, had pointed to its emblem, as if he felt secure,
when it was unfurled, that the register-ticket which that government had
given him was a covenant between it and himself; that it was a ticket to
incite him to good behavior in a foreign country; and that the flag was
sure to protect his rights, and insure, from the government to which
he sailed respect and hospitality. He had sailed around the world
under it--visited savage and semi-civilized nations--had received
the hospitality of cannibals, had joined in the merry dance with the
Otaheitian, had eaten fruits with the Hottentots, shared the coarse
morsel of the Greenlander, been twice chased by the Patagonians--but
what shall we say?--he was imprisoned, for the olive tints of his color,
in a land where not only civilization rules in its brightest conquests,
but chivalry and honor sound its fame within the lanes, streets, and
court-yards. Echo asks, Where--where? We will tell the reader. That flag
which had waved over him so long and in so many of his wayfarings--that
flag which had so long boasted its rule upon the wave, and had protected
him among the savage and the civilized, found a spot upon this wonderful
globe where it ceased to do so, unless he could change his skin.




CHAPTER III. THE SECOND STORM.



ON the fourth night succeeding the perilous position of the Janson off
Cape Antoine, the brig was making about seven knots, current of the gulf
included. The sun had set beneath heavy radiant clouds, which rolled up
like masses of inflamed matter, reflecting in a thousand mellow shades,
and again spreading their gorgeous shadows upon the rippled surface of
the ocean, making the picture serene and grand.

As darkness quickly followed, these beautiful transparencies of a
West-India horizon gradually changed into murky-looking monitors,
spreading gloom in the sombre perspective. The moon was in its second
quarter, and was rising on the earth. The mist gathered thicker and
thicker as she ascended, until at length she became totally obscured.
The Captain sat upon the companion-way, anxiously watching the sudden
change that was going on overhead; and, without speaking to any one,
rose, took a glance at the compass, and then went forward to the
lookout, charging him to keep a sharp watch, as they were not only in a
dangerous channel, but in the track of vessels bound into and out of the
gulf. After this, he returned amidship, where the little miniature
salt we have described before lay, with his face downward, upon the
main-hatch, and ordering him to bring the lead-line, he went to leeward
and took a cast; and after paying out about twenty-five fathoms without
sounding, hauled aboard again. The wind was southward and light. As soon
as he had examined the lead he walked aft and ordered the sheets eased
and the vessel headed two points farther off. This done, he went below,
and shaking his barometer several times, found it had begun to fall very
fast. Taking down his coast-chart, he consulted it very studiously for
nearly half an hour, laying off an angle with a pair of dividers and
scale, with mathematical minuteness; after which he pricked his course
along the surface to a given point. This was intended as his course.

"Where do you make her, Captain?" said the mate, as he lay in his berth.

"We must be off the Capes--we must keep a sharp look out for them
reefs. They are so deceptive that we'll be on to them before we know it.
There's no telling by sounding. We may get forty fathoms one minute and
strike the next. I've heard old West-India coasters say the white water
was the best warning," replied the Captain.

"I'm mighty afraid of that Carysfort reef, since I struck upon it in
1845. I was in a British schooner then, bound from Kingston, Jamaica, to
New York. We kept a bright lookout, all the way through the passage, and
yet struck, one morning just about day-light; and, five minutes before,
we had sounded without getting bottom. When it cleared away, that we
could see, there was two others like ourselves. One was the ship John
Parker, of Boston, and the other was a 'long-shoreman. We had a valuable
cargo on board, but the craft wasn't hurt a bit; and if the skipper--who
was a little colonial man, not much acquainted with the judicial value
of a wrecker's services--had a' taken my advice, he wouldn't got into
the snarl he did at Key West, where they carried him, and charged
him thirty-six hundred dollars for the job. Yes, and a nice little
commission to the British consul for counting the doubloons, which,
by-the-by, Skipper, belonged to that great house of Howland &
Aspinwalls. They were right clever fellows, and it went into the
general average account for the relief of the underwriters' big chest,"
continued the mate.

"We must have all hands ready at the call," said the Captain. "It looks
dirty overhead, and I think we're going to catch it from the north-east
to-night. If we do, our position is not as good as before. I don't feel
afraid of her, if we only get clear of this infernal coast," said the
Skipper, as he rolled up his chart, and repaired on deck again.

During this time, Manuel, who, had given the crew some very acceptable
hot cakes for supper, was sitting upon the windlass, earnestly engaged,
with his broken English, recounting an adventure he had on the coast of
Patagonia, a few years previous, while serving on board a whaleman, to
a shipmate who sat at his left. It was one of those incidents which
frequently occur to the men attached to vessels which visit that coast
for the purpose of providing a supply of wood and water, and which would
require too much space to relate here.

"Did you run, Manuel?" said the listening shipmate.

"What else did me do? If I no run, I'd not be here dis night, because
I be make slave, or I be killed wid club. Patagonian don't care for
flag--nor not'in' else--I trust--e my leg, an' he get to de boat jus'
when cap-i-tan come to rescue."

"Was you on board an Englishman then, Manuel?" inquired the shipmate.

"Yes, I'm always sail in English ship, because I can get protection from
flag and consul, where I go--any part of globe," said he.

"I never liked this sailing among barbarous nations; they've no respect
for any flag, and would just as lief imprison an Englishman or an
American as they would a dog. They're a set of wild barbarians, and if
they kill a fellow, there's no responsibility for it. It's like a parcel
of wolves chasing a lamb, and there's no finding them after they've
killed it. But they give a fellow his rights in Old England and the
States. A man's a man there, rich or poor, and his feelings are just as
much his own as anybody's. It's a glorious thing, this civilization,
and if the world keeps on, there'll be no danger of a fellow's being
imprisoned and killed among these savages. They're a cowardly set, for
nobody but cowards are afraid of their own actions. Men neither imprison
nor kill strangers, that don't fear the injustice of their own acts. You
may smoke that in your pipe, Manuel, for I've heard great men say so.
But you'd been done making dough-nuts then, Manuel, if they'd got hold
o' you."

"Never catch Manuel among Patagonians, again; they not know what the
flag be, nor they can't read de registrum ticket, if they know'd where
England was," said Manuel; and just as he was concluding the story of
his adventure, the little sailor-boy put his arm around Manuel's
waist, and, laying his head on his breast, fondled about him with an
affectionate attachment. The little fellow had been a shipmate with
Manuel on several voyages, and, through the kindness he had received
at his hands, naturally formed an ardent attachment to him. Taking
advantage of the good treatment, he knew how to direct his attention
to the steward whenever he wanted a snack from the cabin-locker of that
which was not allowed in the forecastle. After holding him for a minute,
encircling his arm around the little fellow's shoulder, he arose,
and saying, "I know what you want, Tommy," proceeded to the cabin and
brought him several little eatables that had been left at the captain's
table.

The wind now began to veer and increase, her sails kept filling aback;
and as often as the man at the helm kept her off, the wind would baffle
him, until finding it would be necessary to go on the other tack, or
make some change of course, he called the Captain. The moment the latter
put his foot upon deck, he found his previous predictions were about to
be verified. The rustling noise of the gulf, mingling its solemn sounds
with the petrel-like music of that foreboding wind that "whistles
through the shrouds," awakened the more superstitious sensations of a
sailor's heart. The clouds had gathered their sombre folds into potent
conclaves, while the sparkling brine in her wake, seemed like a fiery
stream, rolling its troubled foam upon the dark waters.

"Brace the yards up sharp-hard a-starboard!--and trim aft the sheets,"
ordered the Captain, who had previously given the order, "All hands on
deck!"

The order was scarcely executed, before the noise of the approaching
gale was heard in the distance. All hands were ordered to shorten sail
as quickly as possible; but before they could get aloft, it came upon
them with such fury from E.N.E. as to carry away the foretop-mast and
topgallant-mast, together with its sails, and the main-topgallant-mast
with the sail. The foretop-mast, in going by the board, carried away the
flying-jib-boom and flying-jibs. Thus the ill-fated Janson was doomed to
another struggle for her floating existence. The sea began to rise and
break in fearful power; the leak had already increased so, that two
men were continually kept working the pumps. The crew, with commendable
alacrity, cut away the wreck, which had been swaying to and fro, not
only endangering the lives of those on board, but obstructing every
attempt to get the vessel into any kind of working order. The main-sail
had rent from the leash to the peak of the gaff, and was shaking into
shreds. The starboard sheet of the maintop-sail was gone, and it had
torn at the head from the bolt-rope, flying at every gust like the
shreds of a muslin rag in a hail-storm. Without the government of her
helm, she lay in the trough of the sea more like a log than a manageable
mass. Sea after sea broke over her, carrying every thing before them
at each pass. The officers and crew had now as much as they could do to
retain their holds, without making any effort to save the wreck, while
the men at the pumps could only work at each subsiding of the sea,
and that under the disadvantage of being lashed to the frame. A more
perilous position than that in which the old brig Janson now lay, it was
impossible to imagine.

"'Tis the worst hurricane I've ever experienced upon the West India
coast, Captain, but it's too furious to last long; and if she don't
go to pieces before morning, I'll give her credit for what I've always
swore against her. She can't keep afloat though, if it hangs on another
hour in this way," said the mate, who, with the Captain and Manuel, had
just made an ineffectual attempt to rig a storm stay-sail, to try
and lay her to under it. For the mate swore by his knowledge of her
qualities, that to put her before it, would be certain foundering. The
gale continued with unabated fury for about two hours, and stopped about
as suddenly as it commenced. The work of destruction was complete, for
from her water-line to the stump of the remaining spars, the Janson
floated a complete wreck.

The captain gave orders to clear away the wreck, and get what little
sail they could patch up, upon her, for the purpose of working her
into the nearest port. The mate was not inclined to further the order,
evidently laboring under the strong presentiment that she was to be
their coffin. He advised that it was fruitless to stick by her any
longer, or hazard an attempt to reach a port with her, in such a leaky
and disabled condition. "If we don't abandon her, Skipper," said he,
"she'll abandon us. We'd better make signal for the first vessel, and
bid the old coffin good-by."

The captain was more determined in his resolution, and instead of being
influenced by the mate's fears, continued his order, and the men went
to work with a cheerful willingness. None seemed more anxious to lend a
ready hand than Manuel, for in addition to is duties as steward, he had
worked at sail-making, and both worked at and directed the repairing of
the sails. Those acquainted with maritime affairs can readily appreciate
the amount of labor necessary to provide a mess with the means at hand
that we have before described. And yet he did it to the satisfaction of
all, and manifested a restless anxiety lest he should not make everybody
comfortable, and particularly his little pet boy, Tommy.

"We'll get a good observation at meridian, and then we shall shape our
course for Charleston, South Carolina. We'll be more likely to reach
it than any other southern port," said the captain to his mate. "That
steward, Manuel, is worth his weight in gold. If we have to abandon the
old craft, I'll take him home; the owners respect him just as much as
a white man; his politeness and affability could not but command such
esteem, with a man that a'n't a fool. I never believed in making equals
of <DW64>s, but if Manuel was to be classed with <DW65>s for all the
<DW65> blood that's in him, seven-tenths of the inhabitants of the earth
would go with him. I never saw such an attachment between brothers, as
exists between him and Tommy. I verily believe that one couldn't go to
sleep without the other. I should think they were brothers, if the
lad wasn't English, and Manuel a Portuguese. But Manuel is as much an
Englishman at heart as the lad, and has sailed so long under the flag
that he seems to have a reverence for the old jack when he sees the
bunting go up. He likes to tell that story about the Patagonians chasing
him. I have overheard him several times, as much amused in his own
recital as if he was listening to the quaint jokes of an old tar. But he
swears the Patagonians will never catch him on their shores again, for
he says he doesn't believe in making 'drum-head of man-skin,'" said the
Captain, evidently with the intention of affecting the mate's feelings,
and drawing his mind from its dark forebodings.

"Well, Skipper, I pray for a happy deliverance," said the mate, "but if
we make Charleston with her, it'll be a luck that man nor mermaid ever
thought of. I hearn a good deal o' tell about Charleston, and the Keys.
That isn't one of the places our stewards are so 'fraid of, and where
owners don't like to send their ships when they can find freight in
other ports?"

"I expect it is, sir; but I apprehend no such trouble with any of my
crew," answered the Captain promptly. "I sail under the faith of my
nation's honor and prowess, the same as the Americans do under theirs.
We're both respected wherever we go, and if one little State in the
Union violates the responsibility of a great nation like that, I'm
mistaken. Certainly, no nation in Christendom could be found, that
wouldn't open their hearts to a shipwrecked sailor. I have too much
faith in what I have heard of the hospitality of Southerners, to believe
any thing of that kind."

"Talk's all very well, Skipper," said the mate; "but my word for it, I
know'd several ships lying in the Mersey, about three years ago, bound
to Southern ports for cotton. White stewards worth any thing couldn't be
had for love nor money, and the  ones wouldn't ship for ports in
Slaves States. The Thebis got a <DW52> man, but the owners had to pay
him an enormous advance, and this, too, with the knowledge of his being
locked up the whole time he was in port; thus having to incur the
very useless expense of supplying his place, or find boarding-house
accommodations for the officers and crew. If it be true, what I've hearn
'em say in the Mersey, the man doesn't only suffer in his feelings by
some sort of confinement they have, but the owners suffer in pocket.
But it may be, Skipper, and I'm inclined to think with you, our case is
certainly deplorable enough to command pity instead of imprisonment. The
government must be found cutting a dirty figure on the national picture,
that would ill-treat sailors who had suffered as much as our boys have.
I would hate to see Manuel shut up or ill-used. He's as brave a fellow
as ever buckled at a handspike or rode a jib-boom. Last night, while
in the worst of the gale, he volunteered to take Higgins's place, and,
mounting the jib-boom, was several times buried in the sea; yet he held
on like a bravo, and succeeded in cutting away the wreck. I thought he
was gone once or twice, and I own I never saw more peril at sea; but if
he hadn't effected it, the foot of the bowsprit would have strained her
open in the eyes, and we'd all been sharks'-bait before this. The fellow
was nearly exhausted when he came on board; says I, its gone day with
you, old fellow; but he come to in a little while, and went cheerily to
work again," continued Mr. Mate, who though pleased with the Captain's
determination to make the nearest port, seemed to dread that all would
not be right in Charleston--that the bar was a very intricate one--water
very shoal in the ship-channel, and though marked with three distinctive
buoys, numbered according to their range, impossible to crops without
a skilful pilot. The mate plead a preference for Savannah, asserting,
according to his own knowlege, that a ship of any draft could cross
that bar at any time of tide, and that it was a better port for the
transaction of business.

The Janson was headed for Charleston, the queen city of the sunny South,
and, as may be expected from her disabled condition, made very slow
progress on her course. During the gale, her stores had become damaged,
and on the third day before making Charleston light, Manuel Pereira
came aft, and with a sad countenance reported that the last cask of
good water was nearly out; that the others had all been stove during
the gale, and what remained, so brackish that it was unfit for use.
From this time until their arrival at Charleston, they suffered those
tortures of thirst, which only those who have endured them can estimate.




CHAPTER IV. THE CHARLESTON POLICE.



MR. DURKEE had said in Congress, that a <DW64> was condemned to be hung
in Charleston for resisting his master's attempts upon the chastity of
his wife; and that such was the sympathy expressed for the <DW64>, that
the sheriffs offer of one thousand dollars could induce no one present
to execute the final mandate. Now, had Mr. Durkee been better acquainted
with that social understanding between the slave, the pretty wife, and
his master, and the acquiescing pleasure of the slave, who in nineteen
cases out of twenty congratulates himself on the distinguished honor, he
would have saved himself the error of such a charge against the tenor
of social life in Charleston. Or, had he been better acquainted with the
character of her police, he certainly would have saved the talent of
Mr. Aiken its sophomore display in that cumbrous defence. In the first
place, Mr. Durkee would have known that such attempts are so common
among the social events of the day, and so well understood by the slave,
that instead of being resented, they are appreciated to a great extent.
We speak from long experience and knowledge of the connection between
a certain class of slaves and their masters. In the second place,
Mr. Durkee would have known that any man connected with the city
police--save its honorable mayor, to whose character we would pay all
deference--would not for conscience' sake scruple to hang a man for five
dollars. We make no exception for color or crime. A qualification might
be called for, more adapted to our knowledge of it as it has existed for
the last four or five years; but we are informed by those whose lives
and fortunes have been spent for the moral elevation of the city police,
that it was even worse at the time referred to.

The reader may think we are making grave charges. Let us say, without
fear of refutation, they are too well known in the community that
tolerates them. As a mere shadow of what lays beneath the surface,
we would refer to the only independent speech we ever listened to in
Charleston,--except when self-laudation was the theme,--made by G. R--,
Esq., in one of her public halls a few weeks ago. Mr. R--is a gentleman
of moral courage and integrity, and, without fear or trembling, openly
denounced the corruption and demoralization of the police department.
Even the enemies of his party, knowing the facts, appreciated his
candor as a man, while they denounced the publicity, (for his speech
was paraded by the press,) lest the fair name of the queen city should
suffer abroad. A beautiful farce followed this grave exposition. The
board of aldermen, composed of fourteen men of very general standing,
remained mum under the accusation for a long time. Its object was to
show up the character of a class of officials, whose character and
nefarious arts have long disgraced the city. But in order to make a
display of his purity, Mr. C--, a gentleman entitled to high moral
consideration, chose to make it a personal matter; yet, not content
with a private explanation given by Mr. R--, he made a call through the
press. Mr. R--responded in a proper and courteous manner, acknowledging
the due respect to which Mr. C--'s private character was entitled;
thus increasing the ambition of the board generally, who, with the
expectation of Mr. R--making a like acknowledgment to them as a body,
(not excepting their honorable head,) made a demand in joint-officio.
This being duly signalized through the columns of the Courier and
Mercury, Mr. R--met it with a response worthy of a gentleman. He
referred them to the strongest evidence of his assertions, in the
countenance which they gave to a class of officials too well known to
the community for the honor of its name and the moral foundation of its
corporate dignity. Thus ended a great municipal farce, to prolong which
the principal performers knew would disclose the intriguing scenes of
their secondary performers. The plot of this melo-comic concern was in
the sequel, and turned upon the very grave fact of Mr. C--having some
time previous withdrawn from the honorable board, to preserve some very
delicate considerations for conscience' sake.

How much spiritual consolation Mr. C--realized through the
acknowledgment of Mr. R--, or the honorable board in joint-officio from
the firm admonition, we leave for the secondary consideration of proper
wives and daughters.

But the reader will ask, what has this to do with poor Manuel
Pereira,--or the imprisonment of free citizens of a friendly nation? We
will show him that the complex system of official spoliation, and the
misrepresentations of the police in regard to the influence of such
persons upon the slave population, is a principal feature in its
enforcement. To do this, we deem it essentially necessary to show the
character of such men and the manner in which this law is carried out.
We shall make no charges that we cannot sustain by the evidence of the
whole city proper, and with the knowledge that truth is stronger than
fiction.

What will the reader say when we tell him that, among the leading minds
of the city--we say leading minds, for we class those who are considered
foremost in the mercantile sphere among them--are three brothers,
unmarried, but with mistresses bought for the purpose, whose dark skins
avert the tongue of scandal;--that, twice, men were sold, because of the
beauty of their wives, to distant traders, that the brothers might cast
off their old mistresses, and appropriate new ones to an unholy purpose;
that these men enjoy their richly furnished mansions, are known for
their sumptuous entertainments, set an example of mercantile honor and
integrity, are flattered among the populace, receive the attentions of
very fine and very virtuous ladies, wield a potential voice in the
city government, and lead in the greatest development of internal
improvements;--that these men even whisper high-sounding words of
morality, and the established custom considers their example no harm
when color is modified.

What will the reader think, when we tell him that there is no
city-marshal in Charleston, but innumerable marshalled men, supported
by an onerous tax upon the people, to quiet the fears of a few. And
what will they think, when we tell them that the man whose name is
so frequently sounded through the columns of the press as the head of
police, and applauded for his activity among thieves, is the well-known
prince-officio of a voluptuous dwelling, where dazzling licentiousness
fills his pockets with the spoils of allurement. This man has several
counterparts, whose acts are no secrets to the public ear, and who turn
their office into a mart of intrigue, and have enriched themselves upon
the bounty of espionage and hush-money, and now assert the dignity of
their purse. It may be asked, why are these men kept in office?--or
have these offices become so disgraced that honest men will not deign to
accept them? No! such is not the case. It is that moral integrity is not
considered in its proper light, and is not valued as it should be;
that these men have a secret influence which is well known, and are
countenanced and retained for the weight of their control among a
certain class; and, strange to say, that the party ex-officio make these
demoralizing things the basis of their complaints against the "powers
that be;" yet such is their feeble dependence, that no sooner are they
in office than we have the repetition of the same things.

Now, how far his honor is answerable for these things we must leave the
reader to judge. The leading characteristics of his nature conflict with
each other; his moral character is what is considered sound here; and
truly he is entitled to much respect for his exemplary conduct, whether
it be only exerted as an example, or the heartfelt love of Christian
purity. Some people are pious from impulse, and become affected
when purpose serves to make it profitable. We, however, are not so
uncharitable as to charge such piety to our worthy head of the city
government, but rather to a highly developed organ of the love
of office, which has outgrown the better inclinations of his
well-established Christianity.

We must invite the reader's attention to another and still more glaring
evidence of the demoralization of social life in Charleston. A notorious
woman, who has kept the worst kind of a brothel for years, where harlots
of all shades and importations break the quietude of night with their
polluted songs, becomes so bold in her infamy that she appeals to the
gracious considerations of the city council, (board of aldermen.) How
is this? Why, we will tell the reader:--She remained unmolested in her
trade of demoralization, amassed a fortune which gave her boldness,
while her open display was considered very fine fun for the joking
propensities of officials and gallants. With her wealth she reared a
splendid mansion to infamy and shame, where she, and such as she,
whose steps the wise man tells us "lead down to hell," could sway their
victory over the industrious poor. So public was it, that she openly
boasted its purpose and its adaptation to the ensnaring vices of
passion. Yes, this create in female form had spread ruin and death
through the community, and brought the head of many a brilliant young
man to the last stage of cast-off misery. And yet, so openly tolerated
and countenanced by leading men are these things, that on the 31st
of July, 1852, this mother of crime appeals to the honorable board of
aldermen, as appeared in the "Proceedings of Council" in the Charleston
Courier of that date, in the following manner:

"Laid over until a monied quorum is present.

"Letter from Mrs. G. Pieseitto, informing Council that having recessed
her new brick building in Berresford street at least two feet, so as to
dedicate it to the use of the citizens of Charleston, if they will pave
with flag-stones the front of her lot, respectfully requests, that if
accepted, the work may be done as soon as possible. Referred to the
Aldermen, Ward No. 4." The street is narrow and little used, except for
purposes known to the lanterns, when honest people should sleep.
The information might have been couched with more modesty, when the
notoriety of the woman and the dedication of her tabernacle of vice
was so public. How far the sensitive aldermen of the fourth ward have
proceeded in the delicate mission, or how much champagne their modest
consideration has cost, the public have not yet been informed. Rumor
says every thing is favorable. We are only drawing from a few principal
points, and shall leave the reader to draw his own inference of the
moral complexion of our social being. We make but one more view, and
resume our story.

An office connected with the judiciary, so long held as one of high
responsibility and honorable position, is now held merely as a medium
of miserable speculation and espionage. It is an elective office, the
representative holding for four years. The present incumbent was elected
more through charity than recompense for any amiable qualities, moral
worth, or efficient services to party ends. A more weak man could not
have been drawn from the lowest scale of party hirelings, though he had
abdicated the office once before to save his name and the respectability
of the judiciary. It may be said, he was elected in pity to speculate
on misery; and thus it proved in the case of MANUEL PEREIRA. This
functionary was elected by a large majority. Could his moral worth have
been taken into consideration? We should think not! For several times
have we been pointed to two interesting girls,--or, if their color was
not shaded, would be called young ladies--promenading the shady side of
King street, with their faces deeply vailed, and informed who was their
father. The mother of these innocent victims had been a mother to their
father, had nursed him and maintained him through his adversity, and
had lived the partner of his life and affections for many years, and
had reared to him an interesting but fatal family. But, no sooner had
fortune begun to shed its smiling rays, than he abandoned the one that
had watched over him for the choice of one who could boast no more than
a white skin.

If men who fill high places live by teaching others to gratify their
appetites and pleasures alone, instead of setting a commendable example
for a higher state of existence, by whom can we expect that justice and
moral worth shall be respected?

Connected with the city constabulary are two men whose duty it is to
keep a sharp lookout for all vessels arriving, and see that all <DW64>s
or  seamen are committed to prison. One is a South Carolinian, by
the name of Dusenberry, and the other an Irishman, by the name of Dunn.
These two men, although their office is despicable in the eyes of
many, assume more authority over a certain class of persons, who are
unacquainted with the laws, than the mayor himself. The former is a
man of dark, heavy features, with an assassin-like countenance, more
inclined to look at you distrustfully than to meet you with an open
gaze. He is rather tall and athletic, but never has been known to do any
thing that would give him credit for bravery. Several times he has been
on the brink of losing his office for giving too much latitude to his
craving for perquisites; yet, by some unaccountable means, he manages
to hold on. The other is a robust son of the Emerald Isle, with a broad,
florid face, low forehead, short crispy hair very red, and knotted
over his forehead. His dress is usually very slovenly and dirty, his
shirt-collar bespotted with tobacco-juice, and tied with an old striped
bandana handkerchief. This, taken with a very wide mouth, flat nose,
vicious eye, and a countenance as hard as ever came from Tipperary, and
a lame leg, which causes him to limp as he walks, gives our man Dunn the
incarnate appearance of a fit body-grabber. A few words will suffice
for his character. He is known to the official department, of which
the magistrates are a constituent part, as a notorious ----l; and his
better-half, who, by-the-way, is what is called a free-trader, meaning,
to save the rascality of a husband, sells liquor by small portions, to
suit the Murphys and the O'Neals. But, as it pleases our Mr. Dunn, he
very often becomes a more than profitable customer, and may be found
snoring out the penalty in some sequestered place, too frequently for
his own character. Between the hours of ten and twelve in the morning,
Dunn, if not too much incapacitated, may be seen limping his way down
Broad street, to watch vessels arriving and departing, carrying a
limp-cane in one hand, and a large covered whip in the other. We were
struck with the appearance of the latter, because it was similar to
those carried in the hands of a rough, menial class of men in Macon,
Georgia, who called themselves marshals, under a misapplication of the
term. Their office was to keep the <DW64> population "straight," and do
the whipping when called upon, at fifty cents a head. They also did the
whipping at the jails, and frequently made from five to six dollars a
day at this alone; for it is not considered fashionable for a gentleman
to whip his own <DW64>. We noticed the universal carrying of this whip,
when we first visited Macon, some four years ago, and were curious to
know its purport, which was elucidated by a friend; but we have since
seen the practical demonstrations painfully carried out. Those who
visited Boston for the recovery of Crafts and Ellen--whose mode of
escape is a romance in itself--were specimens of these "marshals."
How they passed themselves off for gentlemen, we are at a loss to
comprehend.

During the day, the Messrs. Dusenberry and Dunn may be seen at times
watching about the wharves, and again in low grog-shops--then pimping
about the "Dutch beer-shops and corner-shops"--picking up, here and
there, a hopeful-looking <DW65>, whom they drag off to limbo, or extort
a bribe to let him go. Again, they act as monitors over the Dutch
corner-shops, the keepers of which pay them large sums to save
themselves the heavy license fine and the information docket. When they
are no longer able to pay over hush-money, they find themselves walked
up to the captain's office, to be dealt with according to the severe
penalty made and provided for violating the law which prohibits the sale
of liquor to <DW64>s without an order. The failure to observe this law
is visited with fine and imprisonment,--both beyond their proportionate
deserts, when the law which governs the sale of liquor to white men is
considered. Things are very strictly regulated by complexions in South
Carolina. The master sets the most dissipated and immoral examples
in his own person, and allows his children not only to exercise their
youthful caprices, but to gratify such feelings as are pernicious to
their moral welfare, upon his slaves. Now, the question is, that knowing
the <DW64>'s power of imitation, ought not some allowance to be made
for copying the errors of his master? Yet such is not the case; for the
slightest deviation from the strictest rule of discipline brings condign
punishment upon the head of the offender.




CHAPTER V. MR. GRIMSHAW, THE MAN OF THE COUNTY.



ON the 22d of March last, about ten o'clock in the morning, a thin,
spare-looking man, dressed in a black cashmeret suit, swallow-tail
coat, loose-cut pants, a straight-breasted vest, with a very extravagant
shirt-collar rolling over upon his coat, with a black ribbon tied at the
throat, stood at the east corner of Broad and Meeting street, holding a
very excited conversation with officers Dusenberry and Dunn. His
visage was long, very dark--much more so than many of the <DW52>
population--with pointed nose and chin, standing in grim advance to
each other; his face narrow, with high cheek-bones, small, peering eyes,
contracted forehead, reclining with a sunken arch between the perceptive
and intellectual organs--or, perhaps, we might have said, where
those organs should have been. His countenance was full of vacant
restlessness; and as he stared at you through his glasses, with his
silvery gray hair hanging about his ears and neck in shaggy points,
rolling a large quid of tobacco in his mouth, and dangling a little whip
in his right hand, you saw the index to his office. As he raised his
voice--which he did by twisting his mouth on one side, and working his
chin to adjust his enormous quid--the drawling tone in which he spoke
gave a picture not easily forgotten.

"You must pay more attention to the arrivals," said he in a commanding
tone. "The loss of one of these fellers is a serious drawback to my
pocket; and that British consul's using the infernalest means to destroy
our business, that ever was. He's worse than the vilest abolitionist,
because he thinks he's protected by that flag of their'n. If he don't
take care, we'll tar-and-feather him; and if his government says much
about it, she'll larn what and who South Carolina is. We can turn out
a dozen Palmetto regiments that'd lick any thing John Bull could send
here, and a troop o' them d--d Yankee abolitionists besides. South
Carolina's got to show her hand yet against these fellers, afore they'll
respect the honor and standing of her institutions. They can't send
their navy to hurt us. And it shows that I always predicts right; for
while these commercial fellers about the wharves are telling about
digging out the channel, I've al'ays said they didn't think how much
injury they were doing; for it was our very best protection in war-time.
South Carolina can lick John Bull, single-fisted, any time; but if that
pack of inconsiderate traders on the wharves get their own way, away
goes our protection, and John Bull would bring his big ships in and
blow us up. And these fellows that own ships are getting so bold, that a
great many are beginning to side with Mathew, the consul. Yes, they even
swear that 'tis the officials that stick to the law for the sake of the
fees. Now, if I only knew that the consul was the means of that Nassau
<DW65> getting away, I'd raise a mob, and teach him a lesson that South
Carolinians ought to have teached him before. It took about seventeen
dollars out of my pocket, and if I was to sue him for it, I could get
no recompense. The next time you allow one to escape, I must place some
other officer over the port," said our man whom, we shall continue to
call Mr. Grimshaw.

"Sure I heard the same consul, when spakin to a gintleman, say that
the law was only an abuse of power, to put money into the pockets of
yourself and a few like ye. And whin meself and Flin put the irons on a
big <DW65> that the captain was endeavoring to skulk by keeping him in
the forecastle of the ship, he interfered between me and me duty, and
began talking his balderdash about the law. Sure, with his own way, he'd
have every <DW65> in the city an abolitionist in three weeks. And sure,
Mr. Sheriff, and ye'd think they were babies, if ye'd see himself talk
to them at the jail, and send them up things, as if they were better
than the other criminals, and couldn't live on the jail fare," said
officer Dunn, who continued to pledge himself to the sheriff that the
wharves should not be neglected, nor a hopeful English <DW54> escape his
vigilant eye.

"For my own part, I think they're better off in jail than they would be
on the wharf," continued Grimshaw. "They're a worthless set, and ha'n't
half the character that a majority of our slaves have; and instead of
attending the captain on board, they'd be into Elliot street, spending
their money, getting drunk, and associating with our worst <DW65>s. And
they all know so much about law, that they're always teaching our bad
<DW65>s the beauties of their government, which makes them more unhappy
than they are. Our <DW65>s are like a shoal of fish--when one becomes
diseased, he spreads it among all the rest; and before you know where
you are, they're done gone."

"They're not very profitable customers for us, Sheriff," said
Dusenberry. "We have a deal of watching, and a mighty smart lot of
trouble after we get them fellows; and if we get a perquisite, it never
amounts to much, for I seldom knew one that had money enough to treat
as we took him up. These Britishers a'n't like us; they don't pay off in
port and if the fellows get any thing in jail from the consul, it's by
drib-drabs, that a'n't no good, for it all goes for liquor. And them
criminals make a dead haul upon a black steward, as soon as he is locked
up. But if these sympathizing fools follow up their bugbears about the
treatment at the jail, they'll get things so that our business won't
be worth a dollar. For my own part, I'm not so much beholdin', for I've
made myself comfortable within the last few years, but I want my son
to succeed me in the office. But if this consul of their'n keeps up his
objections, appeals, and his protests in this way, and finds such men as
his honor the district-attorney to second him with his nonsense and his
notions, folks of our business might as well move north of Mason and
Dixon's."

"I can wake him up to a point," said Grimshaw, "that that abolition
consul ha'n't learnt before; and if he'd stuck his old petition
in Charles Sumner's breeches pocket instead of sending it to our
legislature, he might have saved his old-womanish ideas from the
showing' up that Myzeck gave 'em. It takes Myzeck to show these
blue-skin Yankees how to toe the mark when they come to South Carolina.
If South Carolina should secede, I'd say give us Myzeck and Commander to
lead our war, and we'd be as sure to whip 'em as we won the Mexican war
for the Federal Government. There is three things about an Englishman,
Dusenberry, which you may mark for facts. He is self-conceited, and
don't want to be advised;--he thinks there is no law like the law of
England, and that the old union-jack is a pass-book of nations;--and
he thinks everybody's bound to obey his notions of humanity and the
dictates of his positive opinions. But what's worse than all, they've
never seen the sovereignty of South Carolina carried out, and according
to Consul Mathew's silly notions, they think we could be licked by a
gun-boat.

"It's no use arguing this thing, you must keep a keen eye upon the
English <DW65>s; and when a man pretends to dispute the right, tell him
its 'contrary to law,' and to look at the statute-books; tell him it
costs more to keep them than they're all worth; and if they say the law
was never intended for foreign citizens, tell 'em its 'contrary to law.'
South Carolina's not bound to obey the voice of the General Government,
and what does she care for the federal courts? We'll pursue a course
according to the law; and any thing that is contrary to it we will take
care of for the better protection of our institutions. Now, don't let
one pass, upon the peril of your office," continued Mr. Grimshaw.

"It's not a button I'd care for the office," said Dunn. "Sure it's
yerself be's makin' all the fees, and ourselves getting the paltry
dollar; and yerself gives us as much trouble to get that as we'd be
earning two dollars at magistrate Jiles' beyant. Sure! himself's
liberal and doesn't be afraid to give us a division of the fees when the
business is good. And sure ye make yer ten times the fees on an English
<DW65>, and never gives us beyant the dollar," continued he, moving off
in high dudgeon, and swearing a stream of oaths that made the very blood
chill. There was a covert meaning about Mr. Grimshaw's language that was
not at all satisfactory to Mr. Dunn's Irish; especially when he knew Mr.
Grimshaw's insincerity so well, and that, instead of being liberal, he
pocketed a large amount of the fees, to the very conscientious benefit
of his own dear self. The reader must remember that in Charleston, South
Carolina, there is a large majority of men who care little for law,
less for justice, and nothing for Christianity. Without compunction
of conscience, and with an inherited passion to set forward the
all-absorbing greatness of South Carolina, these men act as a check upon
the better-disposed citizens. The more lamentable part is, that forming
a large portion of that species of beings known as bar-room politicians,
they actually control the elections in the city; and thus we may account
for the character of the incumbents of office, and for the tenacity with
which those oppressive laws are adhered to.

This almost incompatible conversation between a high sheriff and two
menial constables, may to many seem inconsistent with the dignity
that should be observed between such functionaries. Nevertheless, all
restraint is not only annihilated by consent, but so prominently is
this carried out, and so well understood by that respectable class of
citizens whose interests and feelings are for maintaining a good
name for the city and promoting its moral integrity, that in all
our conversation with them, we never heard one speak well of those
functionaries or the manner in which the police regulations of the city
were carried out.




CHAPTER VI. THE JANSON IN THE OFFING.



AFTER several days' suffering for want of wafer and fatigue of labor,
several of the crew were reported upon the sick-list. Manuel, who had
borne his part nobly and cheerfully, was among the number; and his loss
was more severely felt, having done a double duty, and succeeded, as far
as the means were at hand, in making everybody on board comfortable. He
had attended upon those who gave up first, like a good nurse, ready
at the call, whether night or day, and with a readiness that seemed
pleasure to him. From the captain to the little boy Tommy, his loss
was felt with regret; and the latter would often go into the forecastle
where he lay, lean over him with a child-like simplicity, and smooth his
forehead with his little hand. "Manuel! I wish poor Manuel was well!" he
would say, and again he would lay his little hand on his head and smooth
his hair. He would whisper encouragement in his ear; and having learned
a smattering of Portuguese, would tell him how soon they would be in
port, and what pleasant times they would have together.

On the 21st they descried land, which proved to be Stono, about
twenty-five miles south of Charleston. Tommy announced the news to
Manuel, which seemed to cheer him up. His sickness was evidently caused
by fatigue, and his recovery depended more upon rest and nourishment
than medical treatment. That night at ten o'clock the wind came strong
north-west, and drove the Janson some distance to sea again; and it was
not until the morning of the 23d that she made Charleston light, and
succeeded in working up to the bar. Signal was made for a pilot, and
soon, a very fine cutter-looking boat, "Palmetto, No. 4," was seen
shooting out over the bar in the main channel. Manuel, somewhat
recovered, had a few minutes before been assisted on deck, and through
the captain's orders was laid upon a mattrass, stretched on the
starboard side of the companion-way. By his side sat little Tommy,
serving him with some nourishment.

The boat was soon alongside, and the pilot, a middle-sized man, well
dressed, with a frank, open countenance, rather florid and sun-stained,
and a profusion of gold chain and seal dangling from his fob, came
on board. After saluting the captain, he surveyed the weather-beaten
condition of the craft, made several inquiries in regard to her working,
and then said in a sang-froid manner, "Well! I reckon you've seen some
knocking, anyhow." Then turning again and giving some orders in regard,
to getting more way upon her, he viewed the laborious working at the
pumps, and walking about midships on the larboard side, took a sharp
survey of her waist. "Don't she leak around her topsides, Captain?" said
he.

Receiving an answer in the affirmative, he gave a glance aloft, and
then at the sky to windward; asked how long he had worked her in that
condition, and where he took the gale. "It's a wonder she hadn't swamped
ye before now. I'd a' beached her at the first point, if she'd bin mine;
I'd never stand at slapping an old craft like this on. She reminds me
of one o' these down-east sugar-box crafts what trade to Cuba," he
continued. Then walking across the main-hatch to the starboard side, he
approached the men who were pumping, and after inquiring about freeing
her, suddenly caught a glimpse of Manuel, as he lay upon the mattrass
with his face uncovered.

"Heavens! What! have you got the yellow fever on board at this season
of the year?" he inquired of the mate, who had just come aft to inquire
about getting some water from the pilot-boat.

"No, we've had every thing else but the yellow fever; one might as well
bin on a raft as such an infernal unlucky old tub as she is. It's the
steward, sir--he's got a touch of a fever; but he'll soon be over it.
He only wants rest, poor fellow! He's bin a bully at work ever since the
first gale. He'll mend before he gets to town," was the reply.

"Ah! then you've had a double dose of it. It gives a fellow bringer off
them capes once in a while.--The steward's a <DW65>, isn't he?" inquired
the pilot.

"<DW65>!--not he," said the mate. "He's a Portuguese mixed breed; a kind
o' sun-scorched subject, like a good many of you Southerners. A <DW65>'s
mother never had him, you may bet your 'davie on that. There's as much
white blood in his jacket as anybody's got, only them Portuguese are
dark-lookin' fellers. He's no fool--his name's Manuel, a right clever
feller, and the owners think as much of him as they do of the Skipper."

"Gammon," said the pilot to himself. "What would he think if we were
to show him some specimens of our white <DW65>s in Charleston?" And
turning, he walked past Manuel with a suspicious look, and took a
position near the man at the wheel, where he remained for some time
fingering the seals of his watch-chain. The Captain had gone into the
cabin a few minutes before, and coming on deck again, walked toward the
place where the pilot stood, and took a seat upon an old camp-stool.

"Cap," said the pilot, "ye'll have trouble with that <DW65> of your'n
when ye git to town. If you want to save yerself and the owners a d--d
site o' bother and expense, y' better keep him close when y' haul in;
and ship him off to New York the first chance. I've seen into the mill,
Cap, and y' better take a friend's advice."

"<DW65>!" said the Captain indignantly, "what do they call <DW65>s in
Charleston? My steward's no more a <DW65> than you are!"

"What, sir?" returned the pilot in a perfect rage. "Do you know the
insulting nature of your language? Sir, if the law did not subject me,
I would leave your vessel instantly, and hold you personally responsible
as soon as you landed, sir."

The Captain, unconscious of the tenacity with which the chivalrous blood
of South Carolina held language that mooted a comparison of colors,
considered his answer; but could see nothing offensive in it.

"You asked me a question, and I gave you a proper answer. If you
consider such a man as my steward--poor fellow--a <DW65>, in your
country, I'm glad that you are blessed with so many good men."

"We polishes our language, Captain, when we speak of <DW65>s in South
Carolina," said the pilot. "A South Carolinian, sir, is a gentleman all
over the world. It don't want nothin' further than the name of his State
to insure him respect. And when foreign folks and Northerners from them
abolition States bring free <DW65>s into South Carolina, and then go to
comparing them to white folks, they better be mighty careful how they
stir about. South Carolina ought to've seceded last year, when she
talked about it, and sent every Yankee home to make shoe-pegs. We
wouldn't bin insulted then, as we are now. I'll tell you what it is,
Cap," said he, rather cooling off, "if our folks was only as spunky as
they were in eighteen hundred and thirty-two times, them fellers what
come here to feed upon South Carolina, put the devil in the heads of the
<DW65>s, and then go home again, would see stars and feel bullet-holes."

The Captain listened to the pilot's original South Carolina talk, or, as
the pilot himself had called it, polished language, without exhibiting
any signs of fear and trembling at its sublime dignity; yet, finding
that the pilot had misconstrued the tenor of his answer, said, "You must
have mistaken the intention of my reply, sir; and the different manner
in which you appropriate its import may be attributed to a custom
among yourselves, which makes language offensive that has no offensive
meaning. We never carry pistols or any such playthings in my country.
We have a moral security for our lives, and never look upon death as so
great an enemy that we must carry deadly weapons to defend it. In fact,
pilot," he said in a joking manner, "they're rather cumbersome little
bits for a feller's pocket: I'd rather carry my supper and breakfast in
my pocket. Now tell us, who do you call <DW65>s in South Carolina?"

"Why, Captain, we call all what a'n't white folks. Our folks can
tell 'em right smart. They can't shirk out if it's only marked by
the seventeenth generation. You can always tell 'em by the way they
look--they can't look you in the face, if they are ever so white. The
law snaps 'em up once in a while, and then, if they're ever so white,
it makes 'em prove it. I've known several cases where the doubt was in
favor of the <DW65>, but he couldn't prove it, and had to stand aside
among the <DW54>s. Dogs take my skin, Cap, if theren't a Jew feller in
town as white as anybody, and his father's a doctor. It got whispered
round that he was a <DW65>, and the boarders where he stayed raised a
fuss about it. The <DW65>'s father had two of them sued for slander,
but they proved the <DW65> by a quirk of law that'd make a volume bigger
than Blackstone; and instead of the old Jew getting satisfaction, the
judges, as a matter of policy, granted him time to procure further proof
to show that his son wasn't a <DW65>. It was a very well-considered
insinuation of the judges, but the young-un stands about A-1 with a
prime <DW65>-feller."

"I should like to have 'em try me, to see whether I was a <DW65> or a
white man. It must be a funny law, '<DW65> or no <DW65>.' If a feller's
skin won't save him, what the devil will?" said the Captain.

"Why, show your mother and her generation were white, to be sure! It's
easy enough done, and our judges are all very larned in such things--can
tell in the twinkling of an eye," said the pilot.

"I should think the distinguishing points would be to show that their
mother had nothing to do with a <DW65>. Do your judges make this a
particular branch of jurisprudence? If they do, I'd like to know what
they took for their text-books. If the intermixture is as complex as
what you say, I should think some of the judges would be afraid of
passing verdict upon their own kin."

"Not a whit!" said the pilot; "they know enough for that."

"Then you admit there's a chance. It must be an amusing affair, 'pon
my soul! when a nice little female has to draw aside her vail before a
court of very dignified judges, for the purpose of having her pedigree
examined," said the Captain.

"Oh! the devil, Cap; your getting all astray--a woman <DW65> never has
the advantage of the law. They always go with the <DW65>s, ah! ha! ha!!"

"But suppose they're related to some of your big-bugs. What then? Are
your authorities so wise and generous that they make allowance for these
things," asked the Captain, innocently.

"Oh! poh! there you're again: you must live in Charleston a year or two,
but you'll have to be careful at first that you don't fall in love with
some of our bright gals, and think they're white, before you know it. It
doesn't matter seven coppers who they're got by, there's no distinction
among <DW65>s in Charleston. I'll put you through some of the bright
houses when we get up, and show you some scions of our aristocracy, that
are the very worst cases. It's a fact, Cap, these little shoots of the
aristocracy invariably make bad <DW65>s. If a fellow wants a real prime,
likely <DW65> wench, he must get the pure African blood. As they say
themselves, 'Wherever Buckra-man bin, make bad <DW65>.'"

"Well, Pilot, I think we've had enough about mixed <DW65>s for the
present. Tell me! do you really think they'll give me trouble with my
steward? He certainly is not a black man, and a better fellow never
lived," inquired the Captain earnestly.

"Nothing else, Cap," said the pilot. "It's a hard law, I tell you, and
if our merchants and business men had a say in it, 'twouldn't last long;
ye can't pass him off for a white man nohow, for the thing's 'contrary
to law,' and pays so well that them contemptible land-sharks of officers
make all the fuss about it, and never let one pass. Just take the
infernal fees off, and nobody'd trouble themselves about the stewards.
It all goes into old Grimshaw's pocket, and he'd skin a bolt-rope for
the grease, and sell the steward if he could get a chance. He has sold a
much nearer relation. I'm down upon the law, you'll see, Cap, for I know
it plays the dickens with our business, and is a curse to the commerce
of the port. Folks what a'n't acquainted with shipping troubles, and
a shipowner's interests, think such things are very small affairs. But
it's the name that affects us, and when an owner stands at every item in
the disbursements, and a heavy bill for keeping his steward, and another
for filling his place, or boarding-house accommodations, and then be
deprived of his services, he makes a wry face, and either begins to
think about another port, or making the rate of freight in proportion to
the annoyance. It has an effect that we feel, but don't say much about.
I'm a secessionist, but I don't believe in running mad after politics,
and letting our commercial interests suffer."

"But what if I prove my steward a'n't a <DW52> man?" said the Captain;
"they surely won't give me any trouble then. It would pain my feelings
very much to see Manuel locked up in a cell for no crime; and then to
be deprived of his services, is more than I can stand. If I'd known it
before, I'd suffered the torments of thirst, and put for a port farther
north."

"It'll cost more than it's worth," said the pilot. "Take my plain
advice, Cap; never try that; our lawyers are lusty fellows upon fees;
and the feller'd rot in that old nuisance of a jail afore you'd get him
out. The process is so slow and entangled, nobody'd know how to bring
the case, and ev'ry lawyer'd have an opinion of his own. But the worst
of all is that it's so unpopular, you can't get a lawyer worth seven
cents to undertake it. It would be as dangerous as an attempt to
extricate a martyr from the burning flames. Public opinion in Charleston
is controlled by politicians; and an attempt to move in a thing so
unpopular would be like a man attempting to speak, with pistols and
swords pointed to his head."

"Then it's folly to ask justice in your city, is it?" asked the Captain.
"But your people are generous, a'n't they? and treat strangers with a
courtesy that marks the character of every high-minded society?"

"Yes!--but society in South Carolina has nothing to do with the law; our
laws are gloriously ancient. I wish, Cap, I could only open your ideas
to the way our folks manage their own affairs. I'm opposed to this law
that imprisons stewards, because it affects commerce, but then our other
laws are tip-top. It was the law that our legislature made to stop free
<DW65>s from coming from the abolition States to destroy the affections
of our slaves. Some say, the construction given to it and applied to
stewards of foreign vessels a'n't legal, and wasn't intended; but now
it's controlled by popular will,--the stewards a'n't legislators, and
the judges know it wouldn't be popular, and there's nobody dare meddle
with it, for fear he may be called an abolitionist. You better take my
advice, Cap: ship the <DW65>, and save yourself and Consul Mathew the
trouble of another fuss," continued the pilot.

"That I'll never do! I've made up my mind to try it, and won't be driven
out of a port because the people stand in fear of a harmless man. If
they have any souls in them, they'll regard with favor a poor sailor
driven into their port in distress. I've sailed nearly all over
the world, and I never got among a people yet that wouldn't treat a
shipwrecked sailor with humanity. Gracious God! I've known savages to be
kind to poor shipwrecked sailors, and to share their food with them. I
can't, pilot, imagine a civilization so degraded, nor a public so lost
to common humanity, as to ill treat a man in distress. We've said enough
about it for the present. I'll appeal to Mr. Grimshaw's feelings, when
I get to the city; and I know, if he's a man, he'll let Manuel stay on
board, if I pledge my honor that he won't leave the craft."

"Humph!--If you knew him as well as I do, you'd save your own feelings.
His sympathies don't run that way," said the pilot.

The Janson had now crossed the bar, and was fast approaching Fort
Sumpter. Manuel had overheard enough of the conversation to awaken fears
for his own safety. Arising from the mattrass, in a manner indicating
his feeble condition, he called Tommy, and walking forward, leaned over
the rail near the fore-rigging, and inquired what the Captain and
the pilot were talking about. Observing his fears, the little fellow
endeavoured to quiet him by telling him they were talking about bad
sailors.

"I think it is me they are talking about. If they sell me for slave
in Charleston, I'll kill myself before a week," said he in his broken
English.

"What's that you say, Manuel?" inquired the first mate as he came along,
clearing up the decks with the men.

"Pilot tell Captain they sell me for slave in South Carolina. I'd jump
overboard 'fore I suffer him," said he.

"Oh, poh! don't be a fool; you a'n't among Patagonians, Manuel; you
won't have to give 'em leg for your life. They don't sell foreigners and
outlandish men like you for slaves in Carolina--it's only black folks
what can't clothe the'r words in plain English. Yer copper- hide
wouldn't be worth a sixpence to a <DW65>-trader--not even to old Norman
Gadsden, that I've heard 'em tell so much about in the Liverpool docks.
He's a regular Jonathan Wild in <DW65>-dealing; his name's like a fiery
dragon among the <DW65>s all over the South; and I hearn our skipper say
once when I sailed in a liner, that <DW65>s in Charleston were so 'fraid
of him they'd run, like young scorpions away from an old he-devil, when
they saw him coming. He sells white <DW65>s, as they call 'em, and
black <DW65>s--any thing that comes in his way, in the shape of saleable
folks. But he won't acknowledge the corn when he goes away from home,
and swears there's two Norman Gadsdens in Charleston; that he a'n't the
one! When a man's ashamed of his name abroad, his trade must be very bad
at home, or I'm no sailor," said the mate.

"Ah, my boys!" said the pilot in a quizzical manner, as he came to
where several of the men were getting the larboard anchor ready to let
go,--"if old Norman Gadsden gets hold of you, you're a gone sucker. A
man what's got a bad <DW65> has only got to say Old Gadsden to him, and
it's equal to fifty paddles. The mode of punishment most modern,
and adopted in all the workhouses and places of punishment in South
Carolina, is with the paddle, a wooden instrument in, the shape of a
baker's peel; with a blade from three to five inches wide, and from
eight to ten long. This is laid on the posteriors--generally by
constables or officers connected with the police. Holes are frequently
bored in the blade, which gives the application a sort of percussive
effect; The pain is much more acute than with the cowhide; and several
instances are known where a master ordered an amount of strokes beyond
the endurance of the slave, and it proved fatal at the workhouse. They
tell a pretty good story about the old fellow. I don't know if it's
true, but the old fellow's rich now, and he does just what he pleases.
It was that somebody found one of those little occasional droppings of
the aristocracy, very well known among the secrets of the chivalry, and
called foundlings, nicely fixed up in a basket.--It's among the secrets
though, and mustn't be told abroad.--The finders labelled it, 'Please
sell to the highest bidder,' and left it at his door. There was a fund
of ominous meaning in the label; but Norman very coolly took the little
helpless pledge under his charge, and, with the good nursing of old
Bina, made him tell to the tune of two hundred and thirty, cash, 'fore
he was two year old. He went by the name of Thomas Norman, the Christian
division of his foster-father's, according to custom. The old fellow
laughs at the joke, as he calls it, and tells 'em, when they stick it to
him, they don't understand the practice of making money. You must keep a
bright look out for him, Manuel--you'll know him by the <DW65>s running
when they see him coming."

The pilot now returned to the quarter, and commenced dilating upon the
beauty of Charleston harbor and its tributaries, the Astley and Cooper
Rivers--then upon the prospects of fortifications to beat the United
States in the event of South Carolina's seceding and raising an
independent sovereignty, composed of her best blood. The Captain
listened to his unsolicited and uninteresting exposition of South
Carolina's prowess in silence, now and then looking up at the pilot and
nodding assent. He saw that the pilot was intent upon astonishing him
with his wonderful advancement in the theory of government, and the
important position of South Carolina. Again he looked dumbfounded, as
much as to acknowledge the pilot's profundity, and exclaimed, "Well!
South Carolina must be a devil of a State: every thing seems captivated
with its greatness: I'd like to live in Carolina if I didn't get
licked."

"By scissors! that you would, Captain; you ha'n't an idee what a mighty
site our people can do if they're a mind to! All South Carolina wants
is her constitutional rights, which her great men fought for in
the Revolution. We want the freedom to protect our own rights and
institutions--not to be insulted and robbed by the General Government
and the abolitionists."

"Do you practice as a people upon the same principles that you ask of
the General Government!" inquired the Captain.

"Certainly, Captain, as far as it was intended for the judicious good of
all white citizens!"

"Then you claim a right for the whites, but withhold the right when it
touches on the dark side. You'll have to lick the Federal Government, as
you call it, for they won't cut the constitution up to suit your notions
of black and white." * * *

"That's just the thing, Cap, and we can do it just as easy as we
now protect our own laws, and exterminate the <DW65>s what attempt
insurrections. South Carolina sets an example, sir, of honor and bravery
that can't be beat. Why, just look a-yonder, Cap: the Federal Government
owns this 'er Fort Sumpter, and they insulted us by building it right
in our teeth, so that they could command the harbor, block out our
commerce, and collect the duties down here. But, Cap, this don't scare
South Carolina nohow. We can show 'em two figures in war tactics that'd
blow 'em to thunder. Ye see yonder!" said he, with an earnest look of
satisfaction, pointing to the south, "That's Morris Island. We'd take
Fort Moultrie for a breakfast spell, and then we'd put it to 'em hot
and strong from both sides, until they'd surrender Fort Sumpter. They
couldn't stand it from both sides. Yes, sir, they shut Fort Moultrie
against us, and wouldn't let us have it to celebrate independence in.
There's a smouldering flame in South Carolina that'll burst forth one
of these days in a way that must teach the Federal Government some
astonishing and exciting lessons. There's old Castle Pinckney, sir; we
could keep it for a reserve, and with Generals Quattlebum and Commander,
from Georgetown and Santee Swamp, we could raise an army of Palmetto
regiments that would whip the Federal Government troop and gun-boat."

We have given this singular conversation of the pilot with a strange
Captain, which at the time was taken as an isolated case of gasconade
peculiar to the man; but which the Captain afterward found to harmonize
in sentiment, feeling, and expression with the general character of the
people--the only exceptions being the <DW52> people.




CHAPTER VII. ARRIVAL OF THE JANSON.



ABOUT five o'clock on the evening of the 23d, the Janson passed Castle
Pinckney, ran up to the wharf with the flood-tide, let go her anchor,
and commenced warping into the dock. Her condition attracted sundry
persons to the end of the wharf, who viewed her with a sort of
commiseration that might have been taken for sincere feeling. The
boarding officer had received her papers, and reported her character and
condition, which had aroused a feeling of speculative curiosity, that
was already beginning to spread among ship-carpenters and outfitters.

Conspicuous among those gathered on the wharf was a diminutive little
dandy, with an olive- frock-coat, black pants, embroidered vest,
and an enormous shirt-collar that endangered his ears. This was secured
around the neck with a fancy neckcloth, very tastefully set off with a
diamond pin, He was very slender, with a narrow, feminine face,
round popeyes--requiring the application of a pocket-glass every few
minutes--and very fair complexion, with little positive expression of
character in his features. His nose was pointed; his chin, projected
and covered with innumerable little pimples, gave an irregular
and mastiff-shaped mouth a peculiar expression. He wore a very
highly-polished and high-heeled pair of boots, and a broad-brimmed,
silk-smooth hat. He seemed very anxious to display the beauty of two
diamond rings that glittered upon his delicate little fingers, made
more conspicuous by the wristbands of his shirt. Standing in a very
conspicuous place upon the capsill of the wharf, he would rub his hands,
then running from one part of the wharf to another, ordering sundry
<DW65>s about making fast the lines, kicking one, and slapping another,
as he stooped, with his little hand. All paid respect to him. The
Captain viewed him with a smile of curiosity, as much as to say, "What
important specimen of a miss in breeches is that?" But when the little
fellow spoke, the secret was told. He gathered the inflections of his
voice, as if he were rolling them over the little end of a thunderbolt
in his mouth. As the vessel touched the wharf, he sprang to the corner
and cried out at the top of his voice, "Yer' welcome to Charleston,
Captain Thompson! Where did you get that knocking?--where are ye bound
for?--how many days are you out?--how long has she leaked in that way?"
and a strain of such questions, which it would be impossible to trace,
such was the rapidity with which he put them. The Captain answered him
in accordance with the circumstances; and supposing him clothed with
authority, inquired where he should find some hands to work his pumps,
in order to relieve his men. "By-Je-w-hu! Captain, you must a' had a
piping time, old feller. Oh! yes, you want help to work your pumps. Get
<DW65>s, Captain, there's lots on 'em about here. They're as thick as
grasshoppers in a cotton-patch."

"Yes, but I want 'em now, my men are worn out; I must get some Irishmen,
if I can't get others at once," said the Captain, viewing his man again
from head to foot.

"Oh! don't employ Paddies, Captain; 'ta'n't popular; they don't belong
to the secession party; Charleston's overrun with them and the Dutch!
Why, she won't hurt to lay till to-morrow morning, and there'll be lots
o' <DW65>s down; they can't be out after bell-ring without a pass, and
its difficult to find their masters after dark. Haul her up 'till she
grounds, and she won't leak when the tide leaves her. We can go to
the theatre and have a right good supper after, at Baker's or the St.
Charles's. It's the way our folks live. We live to enjoy ourselves in
South Carolina. Let the old wreck go to-night." The little fellow seemed
so extremely polite, and so anxious to "do the genteel attention,"
that the Captain entirely forgot the tenor of his conversation with the
pilot, while his feelings changed with the prospect of such respectful
attention; and yet he seemed at a loss how to analyze the peculiar
character of his little, pedantic friend.

"You must not think me intrusive, Captain," said he, pulling out his
segar-pouch and presenting it with at Chesterfieldian politeness. "It's
a pleasure we Carolinians take in being hospitable and attentive to
strangers. My name, sir, is--! My <DW65>s call me Master George. Yes,
sir! our family!--you have heard of my father probably--he belongs to
one of the best stocks in Carolina--owns a large interest in this wharf,
and is an extensive cotton-broker, factors, we call them here--and
he owns a large plantation of <DW65>s on Pee-Dee; you must visit our
plantation. Captain, certain! before you leave the city. But you mustn't
pay much attention to the gossip you'll hear about the city. I pledge
you my honor, sir, it don't amount to any thing, nor has it any
prominent place in our society."

"Really, sir," replied the Captain, "I shall do myself the honor to
accept of your hospitable kindness, and hope it may be my good fortune
to reciprocate at some future day. I'm only too sorry that our wrecked
condition affords me no opportunity to invite you to my table to-night;
but the circumstances which you see everywhere presenting themselves are
my best apology."

"Oh, dear me! don't mention it, I pray, Captain. Just imagine yourself
perfectly at home. We will show you what Southern hospitality is.
We don't go upon the Yankee system of Mr. So-and-so and
What-do-ye-call-'um. Our feelings are in keeping with our State pride,
which, with our extreme sensibility of honor, forbids the countenance
of meanness. South Carolinians, sir, are at the very top of the social
ladder--awake to every high-minded consideration of justice and right.
We are not moved by those morbid excitements and notions that so often
lead people away at the North. Make no unnecessary preparation, Captain,
and I will do myself the honor to call upon you in an hour." Thus
saying, he shook his hand and left.

The pilot had delivered his charge safe, and was about to, bid
the Captain good-by for the night. But in order to do the thing in
accordance with an English custom, that appears to have lost none of its
zest in South Carolina, he was invited into the Captain's cabin to take
a little prime old Jamaica. Manuel, who had somewhat recovered, brought
out the case from a private locker, and setting it before them, they
filled up, touched glasses, and drank the usual standing toast to South
Carolina. "Pilot," said the Captain, "who is my polite friend--he seems
a right clever little fellow?"

"Well, Captain, he's little, but he's first-rate blood, and a genuine
sprig of the chivalry. He's a devil of a secessionist, sir. If ye were
to hear that fellow make a stump speech on States' rights, you'd think
him a Samson on Government. His father is the head of a good mercantile
house here; 'twouldn't be a bad idea to consign to him. But I must bid
you good-night, Captain; I'll call and see you to-morrow," said the
pilot, leaving for his home.

The Janson was hauled well up the dock, and grounded on the ebb-tide.
Manuel prepared supper for the officers and crew, while the Captain
awaited the return of his new acquaintance. "Captain," said Manuel,
"I should like to go ashore to-night and take a walk, for my bones are
sore, and I'm full of pains. I think it will do me good. You don't think
anybody will trouble me, if I walk peaceably along?"

"Nobody would trouble you if they knew you, Manuel; but I am afraid they
will mistake you in the night. You had better keep ship until morning;
take a good rest, and to-morrow will be a fine day--you can then take
some exercise."

Manuel looked at the Captain as if he read something doubtful in his
countenance, and turned away with a pitiful look of dissatisfaction.
It seems that through his imperfect knowledge of English, he had
misconceived the position of the celebrated Thomas Norman Gadsden, whom
he imagined to be something like an infernal machine, made and provided
by the good citizens of Charleston to catch bad <DW65>s. "Nora-ma Gazine
no catch-e me, Cap-i-tan, if me go ashore, 'case me no make trouble in
no part de world where me sail, Oh! no, Cap-i-tan, Manuel know how to
mine dis bisness," said he returning again to the Captain.

"Yes, yes, Manuel, but we can't let the crew go ashore 'till we get
through the custom-house; you must content yourself to-night, and in
the morning 'twill be all right. I'm afraid you'll get sick again-the
night-air is very bad in this climate; old Gadsden won't trouble you. He
don't walk about at night."

Manuel walked forward, not very well satisfied with the manner in which
the Captain put him off. The latter felt the necessity of caution,
fearing he might infringe upon some of the municipal regulations that
the pilot had given him an account of, which accounted for his refusal
Manuel sat upon the main-hatch fondling Tommy, and telling him what good
things they would have in the morning for breakfast, and how happy they
ought to be that they were not lost during the gales, little thinking
that he was to be the victim of a merciless law, which would confine
him within the iron grates of a prison before the breakfast hour in the
morning. "I like Charleston, Tommy," said Manuel; "it looks like one of
our old English towns, and the houses have such pretty gardens, and the
people they say are all so rich and live so fine. Tommy, we'll have a
long walk and look all around it, so that we can tell the folks when we
get home. The ship, owes me eleven pounds, and I mean to take some good
things home for presents, to show what they have in South Carolina."

"You better buy a young <DW65>, and take him home as a curiosity to show
among the Highlands. You can buy a young <DW71> for any price, just
the same as you would a leg of mutton at the butcher's; put him in
a band-box, lug him across, and you'll make a fortune in the North
country. But I'd rather buy a young wife, for the young <DW65>s are
more roguish than a lot o' snakes, and al'a's eat their heads off afore
they're big enough to toddle. They sell gals here for <DW65>s whiter
than you are, Manuel; they sell 'em at auction, and then they sell corn
to feed 'em on. Carolina's a great region of supersensual sensibility;
they give you a wife of any color or beauty, and don't charge you much
for her, providing you're the right stripe. What a funny thing it would
be to show the Glasgow folks a bright specimen of a bought wife from the
renowned State of South Carolina, with genuine aristocratic blood in her
veins; yes, a pure descendant of the Huguenots!" said the mate, who
was leaning over the rail where Manuel and Tommy were seated, smoking a
segar and viewing the beautiful scenery around the harbor.

"Ah!" said Manuel, "when I get a wife and live on shore, I don't want to
buy one-it might be a dangerous bargain. Might buy the body, but not the
soul-that's God's."




CHAPTER VIII. A NEW DISH OF SECESSION.



ABOUT a quarter past eight o'clock in the evening, Master George, as he
called himself, the little pedantic man, came skipping down the wharf.
As soon as he approached the brig, he cried out at the top of his voice,
"Captain! Captain!!"

The Captain stepped to the gangway, and the little fellow, who had stood
crossing and working his fingers, reached out his hand to assist him
ashore. This done, he took the Captain's arm, and commencing a discourse
upon the wonderful things and people of South Carolina they wended their
way to the Charleston Theatre. The company then performing was a small
affair, and the building itself perfectly filthy, and filled with an
obnoxious stench. The play was a little farce, which the Captain had
seen to much perfection in his own country, and which required some
effort of mind to sit out its present mutilation. Yet, so highly pleased
was Master George, that he kept up a succession of applauses at every
grimace made by the comedian. Glad when the first piece was over, the
Captain made a motion to adjourn to the first good bar-room and have a
punch. It was agreed, upon the condition that the little man should "do
the honor," and that they should return and see the next piece out. The
Captain, of course, yielded to the rejoinder, though it was inflicting
a severe penalty upon his feelings. There was another piece to come yet,
which the little fellow's appetite was as ready to devour as the first.
The Captain, seeing this, could not refrain expressing his surprise.
This was taken as a charge against his taste, and George immediately
commenced a discussion upon the subject of the piece, the intention of
the author, and the merits of the principal performers, whose proper
adaptation he admired. The Captain knew his subject, and instead of
contending in detail, advised him to take a peep into the theatres of
New York and London. Not to be undone, for he was like all little men,
who insist upon the profoundness of their own opinions, he asserted that
it could be only the different views which individuals entertained of
delineating character, and that the Charlestonians were proverbially
correct in their judgment of music and dramatic performances.

"I pity the judgment that would award merit to such a performance as
that," said the Captain.

"How strange, that you Englishmen and Scotchmen always find fault with
every thing we Americans do. Your writers manifest it in their books
upon us and the people seem of necessity to copy from them, and echo
their grumblings," rejoined Master George.

"You judge from the common saying, instead of a knowledge front
observation, I fear," said the Captain.

"Lord, sir! you must not judge me by that rule. Carolinians, sir,
always appreciate intelligent strangers, for they always exert a
healthy influence, and never meddle with our institutions; so you see it
wouldn't do to follow the pestilent notions of petty scribblers, lest we
should form wrong opinions."

"But tell me," said the Captain, "do you consider yourselves Americans
in South Carolina?--the pilot must have led me astray."

"Americans! yes, indeed, the true blood at that, and no man of tip-top
judgment ever questioned it. But you must mark the difference; we
ha'n't Yankees, nor we don't believe in their infernal humbuggery
about abolition. If it wasn't for South Carolina and Georgia, the
New-Englanders would starve for want of our cotton and rice. It's the
great staple what keeps the country together; and as much as they talk
about it, just take that away, and what would the United States be? We
South Carolinians give no symptoms or expressions of what we mean to do
that we cannot maintain. We have been grossly insulted by the Federal
Government, but it dar'n't come at us and just give us a chance at fair
fight. We'd show 'em the thunder of the Palmetto, that they'd never
trouble our sovereignty again. Captain, I pledge you my honor that if
there wasn't so many infernal Yankees in Georgia, and she'd follow
our lead in secession, we'd just lick the whole North. Georgia's a big
State, but she a'n't pluck, and has no chivalry at all among her people.
She allows such privileges to them Yankees-gives them power to control
her manufacturing interests-and this is just what will uproot the
foundation of their slave institution. Georgians a'n't a bit like
us; first, they are too plebeian in their manners-have no bond of
guardianship for their laws, and exert no restraints for the proper
protection of good society. But, Captain, their stock has a different
origin, and the peculiarity which now marks our character may be traced
to the offspring of early settlement. We derived our character and
sentiments from the Huguenots; they, from an uncharacterized class of
coarse adventurers, whose honesty was tinctured with penal suspicion.
This, sir, accounts for the differences so marked in our character."

The little fellow pressed this kind of conversation in the lobby of
the theatre, and at the same time took the very particular pleasure of
introducing the Captain to several of the young bloods, as he called
them, while they walked to and from the boxes. At length the Captain
found himself in a perfect hornet's nest, surrounded by vicious young
secessionists, so perfectly nullified in the growth that they were all
ready to shoulder muskets, pitchforks, and daggers, and to fire pistols
at poor old Uncle Sam, if he should poke his nose in South Carolina. The
picture presented was that of an unruly set of children dictating their
opinions to a hoary-headed old daddy-accusing him of pragmatism, and
threatening, if he was twice as old, they'd whip him unless he did
as they directed. The knowledge of South Carolina's power and South
Carolina's difficulties with the Federal Government he found so
universally set forth as to form the atmosphere of conversation in the
parlor, the public-house, the school and the bar-room, the lecture-room
and the theatre.

The little man extended his invitation to a party of the bloods. The
Captain was taken by the arms in a kind of bond fellowship, and escorted
into Baker's eating-saloon, a place adjacent to the theatre, and, to
a man unaccustomed to the things that are in Charleston, a very rowdy
place. This is considered by Charlestonians one of the finest places
in the Southern country; where good suppers and secession (the
all-engrossing subjects with Charlestonians) form the only important
element of conversation. It may be set down as a fact, that among
seven-tenths of the people of Charleston, the standard of a gentleman
is measured according to his knowledge of secession and his ability
to settle the question of hot suppers. We say nothing of that vigorous
patriotism so often manifested in a long string of fulsome toasts that
disgrace the columns of the Mercury and Courier.

At Baker's the place was literally crowded with all kinds and
characters, graded from the honorable judge down to the pot-boy; a
pot-pouri of courtesy and companionship only exhibited in England on the
near approach of elections. The reader may think this strange, but we
can assure him that distinctions are strangely maintained; an exclusive
arrogance being observed in private life, while a too frequent and
general resort to bar-rooms has established plebeianism in public.
Voices were sounding at all parts of the counter, and for as many
different voices as many different mixtures were named. The Captain
received a great many introductions, and almost as many invitations to
drink; but the little man, Master George, claimed the exclusive honor,
and keeping an eye wide awake, took the advantage of his own dimensions,
and began working his way through a barricade of bodies and elbows,
until he had reached the counter. His party followed close, at his
heels. Altogether, they called for cocktails, smashes, toddies,
cobblers, juleps, and legitimates. These disposed of, the company
repaired to what is called a "box up-stairs." Scarcely seated, Master
George rang the bell with such violence that he disjointed the cord and
tassel, and gave such an alarm that three or four <DW54>s came poking
their alarmed countenances through the curtains at once.

"There's nothing like making the fellows mind; they've got so infernal
independent here, and old Tom thinks so much of his young wife, that his
<DW65>s have begun to imitate him. One's enough at a time!" said Master
George, with all the importance of his character. A "bright boy," with
his hair nicely parted on the middle of his head, and frizzed for the
occasion, made a polite bow, while the others retired.

"What have you choice for supper, to-night? We want something ripe for
the palate-none of your leavings, now, you infernal <DW65>, and don't
tell us none of your lies."

"Birds, sir, grouse, woodcock, partridge, canvas-backs, and quails;
meats, venison, and oysters, master-did up in any shape what the
gentlemen wish. Wines, &c., if they want," replied the servant, without
any of the <DW64> dialect, at the same time making a low bow to Master
George.

"Name it! name your dishes, gentlemen! Don't be backward. I suppose
his birds are as usual, without age to flavor them. It's perfectly
heathenish to eat birds as they are served here: we never get a bird
here that is sufficiently changed to suit a gentleman o' taste; their
beef's tough, and such steak as they make is only fit for shoemakers and
blacksmiths. I never come into the place but I think of my journey in
France, where they know the style and taste of a gentleman, and things
are served to suit your choice." Thus our little friend continued
his connoisseur remarks, to give the Captain a particular idea of
his proficiency in the requisite qualities, age, and time of keeping
necessary to make the adjuncts of a supper fit for a gentleman. "D--me!
we don't know when edibles are choice, and the Yankees are perfect
brutes in these things, and have no more taste than a cow. Our folks
ought to all go to France for a year or two, to learn the style of
cooking. It's perfect murder to eat a bird the very day after it's
killed; yes, sir! no man that considers his stomach will do it," said
George.

The servant waited impatiently-the Captain rubbed his eyes, and began
to pour out a glass of water; and dryly said he'd no choice, which was
responded to by the rest. It was left to Master George, and he ordered
a bountiful supply of grouse, partridges, oyster, and champagne of
his favourite brand-none other. There was also a billiard-room,
reading-room, a room for more important gambling, and a bar-room,
up-stairs. All these were well filled with very well-dressed and very
noisy people; the latter being a very convenient place, the party sent
to it for tipplers to fill up time.

"This is but a small portion of what constitutes life in Charleston,
Captain. We live for living's sake, and don't stand upon those blueskin
theories of temperance and religion that Yankees do, and blame the
Father of generations for not making the world better. I never saw
one of them that wasn't worse than we Southerners before he'd been in
Charleston a year, and was perfect death on <DW65>s. Yes, sir, it's
only the extreme goodness of the Southern people's hearts that makes the
<DW65>s like them so. I never saw a Northerner yet that wouldn't work
his <DW65>s to death in two years. D--me, sir, my servants all love
me as if I was a prince. Have you ever been in France, sir?" said he,
suddenly breaking off. The Captain replied in the affirmative.

"Ah! then you can speak French! the most polished language known to
refined society. I wouldn't part with my French for the world. All
the first families in Charleston are familiar with it. It's the modern
gentleman's curt-blanche to society here. There's no language like
it for beauty and flexibility; but one must go to France and learn to
acquire its grace and ease," said he, in rapid succession, rolling
out his words in imitation of a London sprig of the Inner Temple, and
working his little mastiff mouth.

"No, sir," said the Captain quaintly. "I never stopped long enough in
France to get hold of the lingo."

"God bless me, what a misfortune! and can't speak it yet, ah? Why,
Captain, if you wanted to court a petite madmoselle, you'd be in a sad
fix-she wouldn't understand what you were talking about and would take
your love-pledges for gammon."

"You're mistaken there, my good fellow. Love grows on trees in France,
and a French woman can see it before you begin to tell her about it!"
retorted the Captain, which brought a "Good! good! hit him again!" from
the whole party. At this, Master George commenced reading the Captain a
disquisition upon the best mode of acquiring the French language. Supper
was brought-in old Tom Baker's best flourish-and the party begun to
discuss its merits with great gusto. What the little, chivalrous fellows
lacked in physical dimension, they made up in patriotic sentiment in
behalf of the grand sovereignty of South Carolina, which they continued
to pour out until a late hour, every man backing his sayings by the
authority of the great and wonderful Calhoun.

The Captain sat eating away, and seeming more disposed to enjoy the
physical consolation of his supper than to elevate his ideas upon South
Carolina's politics.

"Now, Captain," said Master George, in a very serious tone, after he had
been striking his hand upon the marble table for more than an hour to
confirm the points of his reasoning,--"what is your opinion of the great
question at issue between the Federal Government and South Carolina?
And what do you think of the Old Dominion? how will she stand upon the
test-question?"

The poor Captain looked confounded-took another oyster, and began to get
his mouth in a fix, while little George worked his fingers through
his nice curly hair, and the young bloods awaited the rejoinder with
anxiety.

"Really, sir, you have the advantage of me in your question. It is
so much beyond my profession that I am entirely ignorant of the
subject-therefore could not give an opinion. In truth, sir, I do
not know the purport of the question. It has given me pleasure and
information to listen to your conversation and the ability you displayed
in argument, but, as a stranger, I could take no part," replied the
Captain very sincerely.

Not content with this, Master George wished to be more direct. "It's
the right of secession, Captain-the power to maintain the right by the
constitution."

"Probably; but may I expose my ignorance by inquiring what is meant
by secession? and to what it is applied so frequently?" inquired the
Captain.

"Oh! murder Captain; have you never heard of nullification times!
Well, sir, you must be posted on the affairs of our government." So
he commenced an analysis of nearly an hour long, and in it gave some
astonishing accounts of the wonderful statesmanship of Calhoun, Butler,
and Rhett, tapering down with a perfect fire-and-thunder account of
the military exploits of General Quattlebum and Captain Blanding. The
Captain began to stretch and gape, for he labored under the fatigue of a
perilous voyage, and repose was the only sovereign remedy. He felt that
the limits of propriety were entirely overstepped, and that he would
have reason to remember the first night spent with little George the
secessionist.

"But, Captain! my dear fellow. I see you don't understand our position
yet. We've been insulted; yes, most rascally insulted by the Federal
Government, and they keep it up every year. We can't get our rights. Oh!
no, sir, there's no such thing in the knowledge of the Federal officers
as justice for South Carolina; and you must understand, Captain, that
she is the greatest State in the Union, and there a'n't nothing like her
people for bravery. The political power's got North and West, the old
constitution is being dissected to suit the abolitionists, and they're
drawing the cordon around us faster and faster; and they're now out like
a warrior boldly to the conquest, sounding their voices in the halls of
Congress, appealing to human and divine power to protect their nonsense,
and bidding defiance to our constitutional rights, Our slaves are our
property, protected by the law of God-by that inspired and superhuman
wisdom that founded our great and glorious constitution. Yes, sir!
it was an institution entailed upon us by our forefathers, and a wise
providence has provided proper laws by which we shall protect and see
these poor miserable devils of helpless slaves, that can't take care of
themselves, straight through."

"But how does this affect you and the Federal Government?" inquired the
Captain.

"Why, sir, most directly!" replied Master George, screwing his mouth and
giving his head a very learned attitude. "Directly, sir!--the Federal
Government is acquiescing in every abolition scheme that is put forward
by that intriguing Northern compact for the establishment of new
governments in the territories. She is granting unconstitutional
privileges to designing politicians, whose chief aim is to uproot our
domestic institution and destroy the allegiance of the slave to his
master, by which the slaves would be cast upon the world unprotected,
and we disarmed of power to protect them. Ah! sir, I tell you, of all
fruits of the imagination that would be the most damnable, and the slave
would be the sufferer. It would be worse for him, poor fellow; it would
be an abuse of human power without precedent. So far as political power
is concerned, we are nearly disarmed. The influx of population finds
its way into the opened avenues of the North and West. And with opinions
predisposed against our institutions, and the contaminating influence
standing ready with open arms to embrace the great current, what can we
expect? It's the increasing power made by foreign influx that's giving
tone to our government. If our Southern Convention stand firm we are
saved; but I'm fearful there's too many doubtful shadows in it that
won't stand to the gun. That's what's always played the devil with us,"
said George, striking his hand upon the table. "There's no limitation to
their interpositions, and their resolves, and their adjournments; which
don't come up to my principles of making the issue, and standing to the
question with our coffins on our backs. These condescensions of thought
and feeling arise from the misconceived notions of a few, who are always
ready to join, but never willing to march to action, and must not be
taken as a specimen of South Carolina bravery. The Federal Government
has become vicious and even puerile toward South Carolina; and since
the Herculean power of the great Calhoun is gone, it treats us like a
semi-barbarous and secluded people, mistaking our character. But we'll
learn the Federal Government a lesson yet."

"Do not your legislators make laws for your government, or how is it
that you express such a restive dissatisfaction? Do not the same laws
which govern you, govern the whole of the slave States?"

Little George had previously monopolized all the conversation, but at
this juncture five or six voices broke out, each fired with a reply to
the Captain's question; and yet the answer was of the same old stamp:
What South Carolina had done-how she had fought and gained the Mexican
war-how she was interested in slaves, and how she yet feared to strike
the blow because a set of mere adventurers had got the power to vote in
her elections, and cowards through them had got into the legislature.

"Why, gentlemen, listen to me in this particular. If"--

"Your oysters are getting cold, George," interrupted a blood at his
left, rather facetiously.

"I claim the respect due a gentleman, sir! A South Carolinian will
transgress no rules of etiquette," said George, grasping his tumbler
in a passionate manner and smashing it upon the marble slab, causing a
sudden emeute in the camp. "Order! order! order!" was sounded from every
tongue. "You mustn't be afeard, Captain," said one of the party. "This
is perfectly South Carolinian-just the oscillating of the champagne; it
won't last long."

The noise was more loud than ordinary, and brought a score of people
around to hear the trouble. George had got in high dudgeon, and it took
several persons to hold him, while the remainder, not excepting the
Captain, were engaged in a pacification. The scene was very extravagant
in folly; and through the kind interposition of friends, the matter was
settled to the honorable satisfaction of both parties-the question was
called for-the Captain called for a legitimate, rubbed his eyes, and
little George proceeded. "If my friend Thomas Y. Simmons, Jr., had been
elected to the legislature he'd altered the position of things in
South Carolina. All these corruptions would have been exposed, and
the disparity of party would have dwindled into obscurity. Every
true Carolinian voted for him to the hilt, but how was he defeated?
Gentlemen, can you answer? it will be a favor highly gratifying to me to
hear your opinions!" A voice answered, "Because he wasn't big enough!"
"No, sir," said George, "it was because there was intrigue in the party,
and the Yankee influence went to put him down. The world'll hear from
him yet. He's my particular friend, and will stand in the halls of
Congress as great a statesman as ever lisped a political sentiment."

George's account of his particular friend, Thomas Y. S--, Jr., was so
extravagant, and not having heard of him before, the Captain's curiosity
was aroused to know who he was and where he resided. We will not tax the
reader with George's wonderful memoir of his friend, but merely inform
him that "little Tommy Simmons," as he is usually styled in Charleston,
is an exact pattern of Master George, with the exception of his mouth,
which is straight and regular; and if we may be allowed to condescend
to the extremes, we should say that the cordwainer had done more for
his heels. Otherwise, no daguerreotype could give a counterpart more
correct. Tommy is a very small member of the Charleston bar, who, though
he can seldom be seen when the court is crowded, makes a great deal of
noise without displaying power of elucidation or legal abilities, yet
always acquitting himself cleverly. Tommy was little George in two
particulars-he had studied law, and was a great secessionist; and if
George had never practised, it was only from inclination, which he
asserted arose from a humane feeling which he never could overcome-that
he never wished to oppress anybody. But the greatest contrast that
the reader can picture to himself between mental and physical objects
existed between Tommy's aspirations and the physical man. His mind was
big enough, and so was his self-confidence, to have led the Assyrian
and Chaldean army against the Hebrews. To this end, and to further
the formula of his statesmanship, no sooner was he twenty-one, and
the corner just turned, than he sounded his war-trumpet-secession or
death!--mounted the rostrum and "stump'd it," to sound the goodness and
greatness of South Carolina, and total annihilation to all unbelievers
in nullification. It was like Jonah and the whale, except the
swallowing, which spunky Tommy promised should be his office, if the
Federal Government didn't toe the mark. Yes, Tommy was a candidate
for the legislature, and for the Southern Congress, (which latter was
exclusively chivalrous;) and the reader must not be surprised when we
tell him that he lacked but a few votes of being elected to the former.
Such was the voice of the Charleston district.

Supper had been discussed down to the fragments, and all expressed their
satisfaction of the quantity and declined any more; but George called on
another bottle of champagne, and insisted that the party should take
a parting glass. The servant had begun to extinguish the lights-a
sure sign that the success of the bar was ended for the night. George
reprimanded the <DW64>-the sparkling beverage was brought, glasses filled
up, touched, and drunk with the standing toast of South Carolina.
A motion to adjourn was made and seconded, and the party, feeling
satisfied with their evening's recreation, moved off accordingly.




CHAPTER VIII. A FEW POINTS OF THE LAW.



IN Charleston, such an adjournment at a bar-room or an eating-house,
when parties are enjoying what is termed a "pleasant occasion," does not
mean an adjournment to the domestic fireside; nor are the distinctions
between married and single men regarded, though domestic attachments
may be considered as governing the thoughts and feelings. The practical
definition of such an adjournment means to some place where beauty
secludes itself to waste in shame.

The party descended into the lower bar-room, which, though rather
thinned, presented a picture of characters stimulated to the tottering
point. A motion had been made and strongly seconded to visit the
voluptuous house of a certain lady, which it is considered a stranger
has not seen Charleston until he has visited. The Captain remonstrated
against this, assuring the party that he must go to the ship and needed
rest. Again and again they insisted, setting forth the charms and beauty
of the denizens, but he as often declined in the most positive manner.
Unable to move him in his resolution, one by one began to give him a
hearty shake of the hand and bid him good-night, leaving little Master
George to the exclusive honor of seeing him home.

Standing in the centre of the room, surrounded by five or six persons
well-dressed but very weak in the knees, was a portly-looking gentleman;
with very florid countenance, keen dark eyes, and aquiline nose which
he frequently fingered. There was an air of respectability about him,
though his countenance was not marked with any particularly prominent
feature to distinguish him from the ordinary class of respectable men.
He spoke well, yet without taste or discrimination in his language, was
rather bald and gray, with small head and low perceptive powers; and
judging from the particular tone of his voice and the cant terms he
used, we should think he had figured among the Kentucky horse-traders,
or made stump speeches in Arkansas. His dress was inclined to the gaudy.
He wore a flashy brown- frock-coat with the collar laid very far
back, a foppish white vest exposing his shirt-bosom nearly down to
the waistbands of his pants, which were of gray stripes. But the more
fanciful portions of his dress were a large and costly fob-chain, which
hung very low and supported an immense seal containing a glistening
stone, which he seemed very fond of dangling with his left hand.
Attached to this was a very prominently displayed black ribbon,
answering the purpose of a guard-chain, and laid with great contrasting
care over the bosom of his shirt. This, with a neckerchief of more
flashy colors than Joseph's coat, and a late style Parisian hat, with
the rim very exquisitely turned upon the sides, make up our man.

He was discussing politics, with a great many sensible sayings, though
nothing like close reasoning; and strange as it may seem, he was
strongly opposed to the rabid views of several staggering secessionists,
who surrounded him, and advocated the views set forth in convention by
Mr. Butler. We remarked this more particularly, for it was about the
only instance we witnessed of a public man being independent enough to
denounce the fanaticism of secession. A more amusing scene than that
presented by the attitudes-the questions in regard to South Carolina
licking the Federal Government-the strange pomp-ribald gasconade, and
high-sounding chivalry of the worthies, cannot be imagined. They were
in a perfect ecstasy with themselves and South Carolina, and swore, let
whatever come, they were ready to meet it.

Little Master George seemed very anxious that the Captain should become
acquainted with him, and commenced giving him a monstrous account of his
distinguished abilities. "And that's not all!" said George; "he's not
only one of the greatest characters in Charleston, or perhaps the State,
but he's a right good fellow."

We will interrupt, by informing the reader that he was one of the good
fellows-a numerous family in Charleston-who never use fine instruments
when they select their company; and pay a large amount of worthy tribute
to the liquor-dealers. There is no discriminating latitude attached
to the good-fellow family, for its members may be found with alike
gratifying inclinations, from the highest aristocracy to the <DW64>
population.

"That, sir, is Col. S--e; belongs to one of the first families, sir. He
can beat old Pettigru all hollow; his eloquence is so thrilling that
he always reminds me of Pericles. He can beat little Thomas Y.
Simmons, Jr., all to pieces-make the best stump speech-address a public
assemblage, and rivet all their minds-can make a jury cry quicker than
any other man-can clear the worst criminal that ever committed crime-and
he's good-hearted too-can draw the most astonishing comparisons to
confound the minds of stupid jurors, and make them believe the d--dest
nonsense that ever man invented. Yes, sir-when he makes a speech,
everybody goes to hear him, for he says what he pleases, and old Judge
Withers, whose will is as arbitrary as Julius Caesar's, and has got the
obstinacy of Tom Boyce's mule, dar'n't attempt to control the tenor of
his plea. And he can tell the best invented story of any man in town.
He cleared the villanous Doctor Hines once upon the color of his
pantaloons."

George waited impatiently for the end of the political controversy,
determined to introduce his friend to the colonel. He soon had an
opportunity, for the colonel, finding himself beset by a set of
unreasonable secessionists, made a sweeping declaration. "Gentlemen,"
said he, "let me tell you a modest fact: seven-eighths of the secession
fire-eaters don't know what the proper meaning of government is: I
make the charge against my own people-but it is true." "Traitor!
traitor!--traitor to South Carolina," was sounded at the top of a dozen
voices.

"Then, if I am such in your opinions, I'm gratified to know that my
feelings are my own. Good-night!"

Thus saying, he withdrew from the party, and making his way for the
door, was saluted by George, who introduced him to his friend, the
Captain. The colonel was a very sociable, communicative man; and taking
the Captain's arm, as they walked along, entered into an interesting
conversation about his voyage and first visit to the city, at the same
time displaying his good sense in not trying to force the great things
of South Carolina into his mind.

We, a few weeks afterward, had the good fortune to hear the legal
abilities of this gentleman displayed in a plea at the bar. There were
many good points in it, which, if not legally pointed, were said well;
yet we should class him as belonging to the loud school.

The Captain, thinking it a good opportunity to make some inquiries about
his steward, as they proceeded, commenced in the following manner:

"Your laws are very stringent in South Carolina, I believe, sir!"

"Well, no sir," said the colonel, "if we except those which govern the
<DW65>s; they of necessity must be so; we have had so many emeutes with
them, that no law can be made too strict in its bearings. We have so
many bad <DW65>s poured in upon us, that the whole class is becoming
corrupted."

"Your laws, of course, make a distinction between good and bad <DW65>s,
and free <DW64>s?" interposed the Captain.

"We make no distinction between the colors--some are as white as you
are; but the grades are so complex that it would be impossible to make a
sliding-scale law for any fixed complexions. The law which governs
them is distinctive and comprehensive-made in order to shield the white
population from their ignorance of law and evidence. We never could
govern them in their respective spheres, unless the laws were made
stringent in their effect. As for the free <DW65>s, they're the greatest
nuisance we have; it is our policy to get rid of them, and to that end
we tax them severely. The riddance of this class of <DW65>s would be an
essential benefit to our slaves, as upon account of their influence our
<DW64>-laws are made more stringent. And the worst of it is that they
increase faster. But we make it a principal point to get all the free
men we can married to slaves, and the free women run off. You, that are
accustomed to the free institutions of your country, may think some of
these things singular at first; but you would soon become accustomed
to them, and would really admire them when you saw how beautifully they
worked."

"Is there no discretionary power left?" inquired the Captain. "It
must be oppressive, if carried out; Good men-whether they be white or
black-are entitled to the advantages due them; but where laws such as
you describe are carried out, a good man's evidence being black, the
intention could not be made white. Now, according to my idea of the
law of nature, a man's merits are in his moral integrity and behaviour;
therefore I should establish the rule that a good black man was better
than a bad white man, and was as much entitled to the respect and
government of law."

"Hi!--oh! Captain; it won't do to talk so in South Carolina. Just let a
<DW65> imagine himself as good as a white man, and all the seven codes
in Christendom wouldn't keep 'em under. Ah! you've got to learn a thing
or two about <DW65>s yet," interrupted Master George, before the Colonel
had time to speak.

"I only speak from my observation of human nature; but I may become
better acquainted with your laws, if I remain among you," said the
Captain.

"As I have said before sir," replied the Colonel, "our <DW65>-laws are
such as to require a strict enforcement. If we allowed the prerogative
of a discretionary power, it would open the way to an endless system of
favoritism, just at the mercy and feelings of those exercising it. As it
is now, the white or black <DW65>, male or female, gets the same law and
the same penalty. We make no distinction even at the paddle-gallows. The
paddle-gallows is a frame with two uprights, and a wrench screw at
the top. The <DW64>'s hands are secured in iron wristlets-similar to
handcuffs; a rope is then attached to an eye in these, and passing over
the wrench, which being turned, the <DW64> is raised in an agonizing
position until the tips of his toes scarcely touch the floor. Thus
suspended, with the skin stretched to its utmost tension, it not
unfrequently parts at the first blow of the paddle. Sometimes the feet
are secured, when the effect of this modern science of demonstrating the
tension of the human body for punishment becomes more painful under the
paddle. South Carolinians deny this mode of punishment generally, and
never allow strangers to witness it. It is not, as some writers have
stated, practised in Georgia, where, we are happy to say, that so far as
punishment is conducted in a legal manner, at the jails and prisons,
it is administered in a humane manner; and instead of turning modern
barbarity into a science, as is, done in South Carolina, a strict
regard for the criminal is observed. I will relate some singular facts
connected with the strictness with which we South Carolinians carry
out our laws. And now that we are on the spot connected with it, its
associations are more forcibly impressed on my mind. It brings with it
many painful remembrances, and, were we differently situated, I should
wish the cause to be removed. But it cannot be, and we must carry out
the law without making allowances, for in these little leniencies all
those evils which threaten the destruction of our peculiar institution
creep in. In fact, Captain, they are points of law upon which all our
domestic quietude stands; and as such, we are bound to strengthen our
means of enforcing them to the strictest letter. Our laws are founded
upon the ancient wisdom of our forefathers, and South Carolina has never
traduced herself or injured her legal purity. We have reduced our system
almost to a practical science, so complete in its bearings and points
of government as to be worthy the highest and noblest purposes of our
country. And at the same time, such is the spirit and magnanimity of our
people, that in framing laws to guard against the dangerous influences
of that wing of our country that spreads its ambitious fallacies--its
tempting attractions-shallow criticisms upon minute and isolated
cases-redundant theories without measure or observation, and making
a standard for the government of slaves upon foolish and capricious
prejudices, we have been careful to preserve a conservative moderation
toward the slave. But, to my remarks."

The party had now arrived opposite to what was formerly known as Jones's
Hotel, where the Colonel made a halt to relate the singular case that
had pained his feelings, though he held very tenaciously to the law as
it was, because he believed strongly in the wisdom of the South Carolina
judiciary.

"Our first and great object is to prevent the interchange of sentiment
between our domestic <DW65>s, whether bond or free, and <DW65>s who
reside abroad or have left our State; To do this, it became imperative
to establish a law prohibiting free <DW64>s from coming into the State,
and those in the State from going out, under penalty of imprisonment and
fine, if they returned. The penalty amounted to sale upon a peon form;
and subjected the offender to the slave system in a manner that he
seldom retrieved himself. You will observe, Captain, the penalty is not
desired by our people, the object being to prevent them from returning,
and as such it must be taken in the spirit of its origin. Another very
wise provision was made by our legislators, and which has prevented a
great deal of suffering on the part of the slave. A few years ago, our
wise legislature made a law to revert the power of emancipation from the
board of magistrates where it had been very much abused, to the House
itself. And such is the law at the present day, that no master can give
his slaves their freedom, except by special act of the legislature, and
that with such a multiplicity of provisions and conditions that few even
attempt it. But I'm about to refer to cases in which some modification
might be said to have been necessary, because in them are embodied the
worst germs for abolition speculation.

"That, Captain, is Jones's Hotel," said the Colonel, pointing to an
odd-looking house of antique and mixed architecture, with a large convex
window above the hall-entrance, in the second story. This house is
situated in Broad street, next to the aristocratic St. Michael's Church,
one of the most public places in the city. "In years past, that house
was kept by Jones, a free <DW65>. Jones was almost white, a fine
portly-looking man, active, enterprising, intelligent, honest to the
letter, and whose integrity and responsibility was never doubted. He
lived in every way like a white man, and, I think, with few exceptions,
never kept company with even bright folks. His house was unquestionably
the best in the city, and had a widespread reputation. Few persons of
note ever visited Charleston without putting up at Jones's, where they
found, not only the comforts of a private house, but a table spread with
every luxury that the county afforded. The Governor always put up at
Jones's; and when you were travelling abroad, strangers would speak
of the sumptuous fare at Jones's in Charleston, and the elegance and
correctness of his house. But if his house and fare were the boast of
Carolinians, and the remark of strangers, his civility and courteous
attention could not be outdone. Jones continued in the popularity of his
house for many years, reared a beautiful, intelligent, and interesting
family; at the same time accumulated about forty thousand dollars. The
most interesting part of his family was three beautiful daughters, the
eldest of whom was married to a person now in New York. She was fairer
than seven-eighths of those ladies who term themselves aristocracy in
Charleston, and promenade King street in the afternoon.

"She removed to New York with her husband, who now resides in that city,
engaged in lucrative and respectable business. A short time after, her
second sister-not dreaming that the law would be so stringent as to
class her with the lowest <DW65>, or even lay its painful bearings
at her door; for the family were very high-minded, and would have
considered themselves grossly insulted to have the opprobrious name of
<DW65> applied to them-paid her a visit. The public became acquainted
with the fact, and to his surprise, Jones was informed by authority
that upon no condition could she be allowed to return-that the law was
imperative, and no consideration could be given to the circumstances,
for such would be virtually destroying its validity, and furnishing a
precedent that would be followed by innumerable cases. In spite of all
the remonstrances which Jones could set forth, and the influence of
several friends of high standing, he was compelled to relinquish all
hope of his daughter's being allowed to return to the family. The
reasoning set forth had every plausibility; but such is our respect for
the law, that we were compelled to forego our hospitality, and maintain
it, even though the case was painful to our feelings. Thus, you see, we
maintain the point and spirit of the law above every thing else.

"But the end is not here! A few years after this, Jones received
a letter, that his daughter was very sick and not expected to
live-accompanied with a desire to have the last soothing comfort of
seeing her parents. Jones being an affectionate man, and dotingly fond
of his children, without regarding the former admonition, immediately
prepared himself, and left in disguise for New York. Mature
consideration would have convinced him of the error of one so well known
as himself trying to elude recognition.

"His son-in-law, Lee, a noble fellow, kept the house, and when Jones was
inquired for, it was reported that he was confined to his room. It would
have been well if Jones had kept himself secluded in New York; but he
was recognised by a Charlestonian, and, as such reports have uncommon
wings, the news of it soon reached the authorities; when a mandate was
issued accordingly, and Jones subjected to the fate of his daughter.
There are many painful circumstances connected with the affair, which,
if well told, would make quite a romance," said the Colonel, all of
which the Captain listened to with profound attention. "His family all
moved to New York, and his affairs were put into the hands of attorneys
here, for settlement, by his son-in-law, who continued the business for
some years."

"Of course he got his property restored to him?" interrupted the
Captain.

"Most certainly, Captain! The spirit of justice is coequal with that of
honorable law, in South Carolina," said George, anxious to relieve the
Colonel of the answer.

"It is somewhat difficult to settle a man's business by legal process
when the principal is not present. The law's delay and lawyers' spoils
make time hallowed and costly," said the Captain.

"You're right there, Captain," said the Colonel; "and I doubt-to speak
honestly-whether Jones ever got much of his property. There's a good
many stories told, and a great deal of mystery about it that's got to be
explained to my mind. But you're a stranger, Captain, and it would
not be interesting to the feelings of a Scotchman. I may give you the
details more minutely at some future day."

"Why, Colonel!" said George, "you should be considerate in your
statements. Remember the immense difficulty that has attended Jones's
affairs-they're not all settled yet."

"True, George; and I'm afraid they never will be;--but there are
some very singular appearances connected with it. I mean no personal
disrespect toward those cousins of yours who have figured in the case.
'Tis bad to call names, but there is a mystery about a certain member of
our profession getting rich, when poor Jones declares he's got nothing,
and Lee has had to give up the house,--I don't say what for." * * *

"Yes, strange things must be kept strangely secret in some parts of the
world, and only whispered when there's no wind," said the Captain.

"But that's the only case, Captain," said George; "and the Colonel
was indiscreet in recounting it; for from that you may conceive wrong
impressions of the best institutions and laws in the world. Jones was an
old fool, led away by his <DW65>-like affections for them gals of his.
He never knew when he was well off, and always wanted to be with white
folk when he was here. 'Twould been a great deal better if he'd let
them youngest gals gone with Pingree and Allston. They'd have made the
tip-top mistresses--been kept like ladies, and not been bothered,
and brought all this trouble upon their heads through these infernal
abolitionists. I really believe the old fool thought some white man
would marry them at one time."

"What harm would there've been in that, providing they're as white as
anybody, and got plenty of money, and were handsome? There must be a
singular sensibility, that I don't understand, exerting itself in your
society," said the Captain laconically.

"Harm! You'd find out the harm. Just live in South Carolina a year or
two. 'Tisn't the fair complexion-we don't dispute that-but it's the
blood."

"Oh! then the legal objection," said the Captain, "is what is so
revolting to society, eh! It may be sown broadcast in licentiousness,
then, and custom sustains an immoral element that is devouring the
essential bond of society."

"Excuse me, Captain," interrupted the Colonel. "George, you are always
taking me upon suppositions. I only related it to the Captain in order
to show the power and integrity of our law, and how South Carolinians
frequently sacrifice their own interests to maintain it intact. Nothing
could be more fatal to its vitality than to make provisions which would
entail legal preferences. The law in regard to free <DW65>s leaving
the State should be looked upon in the light of protection rather than
alienation, for it is made to protect property and society. Yet where
a case is attended with such circumstances as that of Jones's, some
disposition to accommodate might have been evinced without endangering
the State's sovereignty. And I must also differ with you, George, so far
as the girls maintained their self-respect. It was commendable in them
to get husbands whom they could live with in the bonds of matrimony.
My word for it, George, though I am a Southerner, and may give rein to
improprieties at times, nothing can be more pernicious to our society
than this destructive system of our first people in keeping mistresses.
It's a source of misery at best, depending upon expediency instead of
obligation, and results in bringing forth children and heirs with an
entailed burden upon their lives, to be disowned, cast off from paternal
rights, and left to the tender mercies of the law. We see the curse, yet
countenance it-and while it devours domestic affections and has cankered
the core of social obligations, we look upon it as a flowery garden as
we pass by the wayside.. There may be but a shadow between the rightful
heir and the doubtful son-the former may enjoy the bounty of his
inheritance, but the latter is doomed to know not his sire nor his
kinsman, but to suffer the doubts and fears and the dark gloom which
broods over a bondman's life."

"By-je-w-hu! Colonel, what in scissors are you preaching about. You must
a' got a pull too much at Bakers's. You're giving vent to real abolition
sentiments. Exercise your knowledge of the provision that is made for
such children. The Captain will certainly draw incorrect notions about
us," said George, with anxiety pictured on his countenance. He knew the
Colonel's free, open, and frank manner of expressing himself, and feared
lest the famous name of the chivalry should suffer from his unconscious
disclosures.

"Provisions! George, you know my feelings concerning that vice which is
so universally practised in our community. If you know of any provision,
it's more than I do. Perhaps you are older and have had more experience.
'Tis the want of such a provision that is just destroying our
institution of slavery!"

At this juncture the Captain interrupted them, and begging that the
Colonel would finish the story about Jones, said he had a few questions
to ask them after it was through.

"Well," said the Colonel, "Jones died, I believe; but his family are as
industrious as ever, and have made money enough to live comfortable; but
the scamps have turned out perfect helpmates of the abolitionists, and
make their intelligence figure at the bottom of many an escape. But
Lee's case is as hard as Jones's. His son went to New York to see his
grandfather, and was debarred by the same statute of limitations. Lee,
however, was a very capable fellow, and after trying for two years, and
finding it would be impossible to return to his father, very shrewdly
set about some kind of business, and is now largely engaged in the
preserve and pickle business. Lee's celebrated pickle and preserve
establishment, New York. The father is now in this city, making a living
for his family at something or other. He has made several efforts to
sell out his little property, but there's some trouble about the
title; and if he leaves it to go and see his son, he knows what the
consequences will be; and to leave it for settlement would be to abandon
it, to the same fate that swallowed up Jones's. Thus the son cannot come
to visit his father, nor the father go to visit the son. This, in my
opinion, is carrying a prohibition to an extreme point; and although
I believe the law should be maintained, I cannot believe that any good
arises from it upon such people as the Jones's and Lee's, from the very
fact that they never associated with <DW65>s. Hence, where there is
no grounds for fear there can be no cause for action," continued the
Colonel.

"Just what I wanted to know," said the Captain. "As I informed you, I am
driven into your port in distress. Charleston, as you are aware, is in
an advantageous latitude for vessels to refit that have met with those
disasters which, are frequent in the gulf and among the Bahamas. Thus I
expected to find good facilities here, without any unkind feeling on the
part of the people"--

"Oh! bless me, Captain, you will find us the most hospitable people in
the world," said the Colonel.

"But your pilot told me I would have trouble with my steward, and that
the law would make no distinction between his being cast upon your
shores in distress and subject to your sympathy, and his coming in
voluntarily."

"What!" said little George. "Is he a <DW65>, Captain? Old Grimshaw's
just as sure to nab him as you're a white man. He'll buy and sell a
saint for the fees, and gives such an extended construction to the terms
of the act that you need expect no special favor at his hands. The law's
no fiction with him. I'm sorry, Captain: you may judge his conduct as
an index of that of our people, and I know him so well that I fear the
consequences."

"No!" said the Captain. "My steward is a Portuguese, a sort of mestino,
and one of the best men that ever stepped foot aboard a vessel. He
is willing, intelligent, always ready to do his duty, and is a great
favorite with his shipmates, and saves his wages like a good man-but he
is olive complexion, like a Spaniard. He has sailed under the British
flag for a great many years, has been 'most all over the world, and is
as much attached to the service as if he was a Londoner, and has got a
register ticket. Nothing would pain my feelings more than to see him
in a prison, for I think he has as proud a notion of honesty as any man
I've seen, and I know he wouldn't commit a crime that would subject him
to imprisonment for the world. The boys have been pestering the poor
fellow, and telling him about some old fellow they heard the pilot speak
about, called Norman Gadsden; they tell him if he catches him they'll
sell him for a slave."

"The question is one about which you need give yourself no concern. Our
people are not so inhuman but that they will shelter a castaway sailor,
and extend those comforts which are due from all humane people. The act
under which seamen are imprisoned is the law provided to prohibit free
<DW65>s from entering our port, and, in my opinion, was brought into
life for the sake of the fees. It's no more nor less than a tax and
restriction upon commerce, and I doubt whether it was ever the intention
of the framers that it should be construed in this manner. However, so
far as your steward is con-cerned, the question of how far his color
will make him amenable to the law will never be raised; the mere
circumstance of his being a seaman in distress, thrown upon our
sympathies, will be all you need among our hospitable people. I'm not
aware of a precedent, but I will guaranty his safety from a knowledge
of the feelings of our people. Our merchants are, with few exceptions,
opposed to the law in this sense, but such is the power and control of
a class of inexperienced legislators, prompted by a most trifling clique
of office-holders, that their voice has no weight. I am opposed to this
system of dragging people into courts of law upon every pretext. It is
practised too much in our city for the good of its name."

Upon this the Colonel and little George accompanied the Captain to his
ship, and, expressing their heartfelt regrets at her appearance, bid
him good-night-George promising to call upon him in the morning, and the
Colonel charging him to give himself no trouble about his steward, that
he would see Mr. Grimshaw that night, and make all things straight.

Thus ended the Captain's first night in Charleston, and represented a
picture from which he might have drawn conclusions somewhat different
from the actual result. Alas! that all the good fellowship and pleasant
associations of a people should be disgraced by an absurdity arising
from their fears.

The Colonel might have given many other instances equally as painful as
that connected with the transportation of Jones and his family, and the
fetters that were placed upon poor Lee. He might have instanced that
of Malcome Brown, a wealthy, industrious, honest, high-minded, and
straightforward man, now living at Aiken, in South Carolina. Brown
conducts a profitable mechanical business, is unquestionably the best
horticulturist in the State, and produces the best fruit brought to the
Charleston market. What has he done to be degraded in the eyes of the
law? Why is he looked upon as a dangerous citizen and his influence
feared? Why is he refused a hearing through those laws which bad white
men take the advantage of? He is compelled to submit to those which
were made to govern the worst slaves! And why is he subjected to that
injustice which gives him no voice in his own behalf when the most
depraved whites are his accusers? Can it be the little crimp that is in
his hair? for he has a fairer skin than those who make laws to oppress
him. If he inhaled the free atmosphere from abroad, can it be that
there is contagion in it, and Malcome Brown is the dreaded medium of its
communication? And if the statement rung in our ears be true, "that
the free  of the North suffer while the slave is cared for and
comfortable," why belie ourselves? Malcome's influence is, and always
has been, with the whites, and manifestly good in the preservation of
order and obedience on the part of the slaves. He pursues his avocation
with spirit and enterprise, while he is subjected to menial and
oppressive laws. His father visited New York, and was forbidden to
return. He appealed again and again, set forth his claims and his
integrity to the State and her laws, but all was of no avail. He was
hopelessly banished, as it were, from ever seeing his son again, unless
that son would sacrifice his property and submit to perpetual banishment
from the State. If we reflect upon the many paternal associations that
would gladden the hearts of father and child to meet in happy affection,
we may realize the effect of that law which makes the separation painful
and which denies even the death-bed scene its last cheering consolation.

We have conversed with poor Brown on many occasions, found him a very
intelligent man, full of humour, and fond of relating incidents in the
history of his family-even proud of his good credit in Charleston. He
frequently speaks of his father and the gratifying hope of meeting him
at some future day, when he can give vent to his feelings in bursts of
affection. He wants his father to return and live with him, because he
says he knows they would be more happy together. "I suppose the law was
made in justice, and it's right for me to submit to it," he would say
when conversing upon its stringency; and it also seems a sort of comfort
to him that he is not the only sufferer.

If South Carolina would awake to her own interest, she would find more
to fear from the stringency of her own laws than from the influence of a
few men coming from abroad.




CHAPTER X. THE PROSPECT DARKENING.



AFTER the Colonel and little George left the Captain, as we have stated
in the foregoing chapter, he descended into the cabin, and found Manuel
sitting upon one of the lockers, apparently in great anxiety. He,
however, waited for the mate to speak before he addressed the
Captain. The mate awoke and informed the Captain that a slender,
dark-complexioned man had been aboard a few minutes after he left,
making particular inquiries about the steward; that he spoke like an
official man, was dressed in black clothes, and wore spectacles.

"I asked him if we'd have any trouble with Manuel, and tried to make him
understand that he wasn't a black, and that our situation might excuse
us from any annoyance through their peculiar laws. But the old chap
seemed mighty stupid about every thing, and talked just as if he didn't
know any thing about nothing. 'A <DW65>'s a <DW65> in South Carolina,'
said he dryly, and inquired for a quid of tobacco, which I handed him,
and he took one big enough for six. Said I, 'Mister, do you call a man
a <DW65> what's a Portugee and a'n't black?' 'It depends on how he was
born,' says he. 'Well, but ye can't make a white man a <DW65> nohow,
whether it's in South Carolina or Scotland,' says I. 'Well, we don't
stand upon such things here; we can show you <DW65>s as white as you be,
Mr. Mate,' says he. 'But, Mister, what's to do about our steward, that
ye make yer inquiries about him; he ha'n't did nothing,' said I. 'Well,
Mr. Mate; it's contrary to law to bring <DW65> stewards into our port.
They're a bad set of fellows generally, and we claim the right to lock
'em up to insure their good behavior and keep their bad influence away
from our slaves. 'Tis not my office. I observed your arrival and wrecked
condition, and merely came to take a look,' said he. 'Well now, Mister,
our steward thinks as much of himself as anybody and wouldn't mix with
your <DW65>s on any account. But Mister! won't it make a difference
because we're cast upon your shore in distress,' says I. 'Not a whit!
it's contrary to law, and the law's got nothing to do with wind and
weather. We love the sovereignty of our law too well to make any
discrimination. We're a hospitable people, and always give folks plenty
to eat, but we never allow any favors in the law. I'll call and see you
in the morning,' said he, and away he went."

This individual was Mr. Grimshaw, the principal mover of the powers that
be, notwithstanding he asserted that it was not his office, and that he
just walked round to take a look.

During his visit on board, Manuel was absent on board a Boston bark,
where he met a white steward, who gave him a sad picture of the
Charleston jail and the cruel treatment that was inflicted upon
prisoners there by starvation. He told him that he was once put in for
a trifling offence, and nearly starved to death before he got out.
"You will be sure to go there, Manuel," said he, "for they make no
distinction; and if a man's a foreigner, and can't speak for himself,
he'll stand no chance at all. I'd give 'em the slip afore I'd suffer
such another punishment," he continued.

This so worked upon the poor fellow's mind, that it became a matter of
little moment whether he jumped overboard or remained on the ship. He
waited until the mate had concluded, and commenced appealing to the
Captain in a most pitiful manner. The disgrace of being imprisoned
seemed worse than the punishment; and he did not seem to comprehend
the intention that he should be imprisoned for no crime in the United
States, when he had sailed around the world and visited a majority of
its ports, both barbarous and civilized, without molestation. He wanted
the Captain to pay him off and let him leave by some vessel in the
morning. The Captain endeavored to soothe his fears by assuring him
that there was no danger of his being imprisoned; that the people of
Charleston had too much good feeling in them to be cruel to a distressed
sailor; that the power of the consul was a sufficient guarantee of
protection. "You are not among Patagonians, Manuel," said he. "There's
no use of working your mind into a fever, you'll be as well taken
care of here and be thought as much of as you would in London." This
assurance had the effect to soothe his mind, upon which he left the
cabin more at ease, and went into the forecastle to turn in with his
little companion Tommy. Men had been detailed for the pumps as soon as
the flood-tide made, and the Captain retired to his berth.

It seemed there was a mutual understanding between the pilots and
officers in regard to the arrival of  stewards; and the pilot,
after leaving the vessel, went directly to Mr. Grimshaw's office and
reported a nut for him to crack: this brought him to the wharf to "look
around."

Early in the morning the crew were at their duty. The mate commenced
giving orders to clear away the deck, and Manuel to make preparations
for breakfast. He had scarcely commenced before two men, Messrs. Dunn
and Dusenberry walked up and down the wharf for several minutes, then
they would stand together and gaze as if to watch the approach of some
vessel in the offing. At length, Dusenberry, seeing Manuel come to the
gangway with a bucket in his hand, walked to her side, and, stepping on
board, seized him by the collar, and drawing a paper from his pocket,
said, "You're my prisoner! you must go to jail-come, be quick, sir; you
must not stop to get your things; you must send for them after you're
committed."

The mate and several of the crew being near, at once gathered around
him. At the same time Dunn, who was standing at the end of the wharf
awaiting the result, thinking Dusenberry was opposed, came to his
assistance. The officers and crew knew the respect due to the laws too
well to oppose any obstacles to the constables in executing their duty.
The mate, in a very polite manner, asked as a favor that they would
leave the man a few minutes until the Captain came on deck. They yielded
to his solicitation after a great deal of grumbling. The arrest made a
deep feeling among the seamen, but none felt it more than little Tommy;
he heard the noise upon deck, and came running with tears in his eyes,
and cried, "Oh! Manuel, why Manuel, what are they going to take you
away for? Won't I see you again, Manuel?" The little fellow's simplicity
touched the feelings of all present. But the lame officer, Dunn, stood
with a pair of handcuffs in his hand, as unmoved as a stoic, while
Dusenberry expressed his impatience, and began to push the boy away, and
motion to march him off.

"Hold a bit!" said the mate. "The Captain will be on deck in a few
minutes; he wants a word or two with you."

"We can't stop unless we're compensated for our time. 'Tis no use to
delay-'twon't do any good; he's a <DW65> to all intents and purposes. I
know by the curl in his hair-they can't escape me, I've had too much to
do with them!" said Dunn. "Yes, to be sure, I can tell a <DW65> by his
ear, if his skin's as white as chalk!" said Dusenberry. "It's all gammon
this bringing bright outlandish men here, and trying to pass them off
for white folks. 'Twon't stick-you must come up and be registered, and
you'll have a good time at the jail, my boy; there's plenty of bright
gals in there, and you can have a wife, if you know how to do the
courting."

The Captain now came upon deck; and began to intercede, begging that
they would not take Manuel away until he had seen the British Consul. "I
know I can make every thing straight. There is no occasion to imprison
my steward-he's neither a <DW65> nor a bad man; and I'll pledge you my
honor that he shall not leave the ship, or even go upon the wharf, if
you will only allow me to see the Consul before you take any further
action," he continued.

"That is beyond our power, sir; you must see the sheriff-you'll find him
in his office bright and early. But you might as well put your appeal in
your pocket, or send it to Queen Victoria, for all Consul Mathew can do
for you. He's been kicking up a fuss for two years; but he might as well
whistle agin a brickbat as to talk his nonsense about English <DW65>s to
South Carolina. He'll get tarred and feathered yet, if he a'n't mighty
shy about his movements. Sorry, Captain, we can't accommodate you, but
we're only actin' for the sheriff, and his orders are imperative to
bring him right up. We must lock the fellow up. We don't make the law,
nor we ha'n't the power to control it." Thus saying, Dunn took a little
key from his pocket and begun to turn it in the handcuffs.

"What!" said the Captain-"don't attempt to put them things on my man,
upon your peril. Is that the way you treat a poor shipwrecked sailor
in South Carolina, the State of boasted hospitality? No, sir! I will
sacrifice my life before my man shall submit to such a thing," said the
Captain, with his Scotch energy aroused.

"Captain!" said Dunn, "we'd not be takin' the advantage of ye because
ye're a stranger, but 'tis the law; and if we accommodates ye, sure
it'll be at our own risk. But anyhow, Captain, ye'd be keepin' meself
an' this gentleman a long time waiting, 'twouldn't be amiss to be giving
us the usual perquisite. You won't miss it, and we've a great deal to do
for small fees, that niver compinsate for the accommodation we be's to
give everybody-an' the loss of time's the loss of money."

"Give you a perquisite!--no, indeed; I never pay for such favors. Wait a
few moments; I will accompany you myself, if you will not take my honor
for his good conduct on the way to prison," continued the Captain.

"Captain, sure ye needn't trouble yerself anyhow; we'll take yer honor
that he don't run away, and if he does ye'll stand the odds at the
sheriff's. Sure a case would niver pass Mr. Grimshaw s observation; but
to plase ye, and considerin' the wreck, meself and Dusenberry 'll put
him up without," said Dunn.

During the conversation, Manuel plead hard to be heard before the
Consul, having a mistaken idea that the Consul could protect him from
all danger; and that if he could get a hearing before him, he was sure
to be released. The Captain shook his hand and told him to be contented
until the Consul's office opened, when he would come to the jail and see
him. Manuel then turned to the crew, and shaking the hands of each, took
his little bundle in one hand, and holding little Tommy by the other,
(who accompanied him to the head of the wharf,) was soon out of sight.

But will the reader believe what was the practice of these petty
officers? We can assure them that such instances as the one we shall
relate are not only practised in Charleston to an unlimited extent, but
the fact is well known to both magistrates and the public; the former
treat it as moonshine, and the latter rail against it, but never take
proper action.

Scarcely had little Tommy left them at the head of the wharf, before
they intimated that it would be well to consider a morning dram. To this
end, they walked into a "Dutch corner shop," and passing into the back
room, gave sundry insinuations that could not be misunderstood. "Well!
come, who pays the shot?" said Dunn, stepping up to the counter, and
crooking his finger upon his nose at a dumpling-faced Dutchman, who
stood behind the counter, waiting for his man to name it. The Dutchman
was very short and very thick, leaving the impression that he had been
very much depressed in his own country when young. He rubbed his
hands and flirted his fingers in motion of anxiety, "Every ting vat de
shentleman vant him--dare notin like to my zin and brondty vat him got
mit ze zity," said Dutchy.

"Gentlemen, I should be glad to have you drink with me, if it be proper
to ask," said Manuel.

"Oh! yes--certainly, yes!--just what we come for, something to cut
away the cobwebs--'twouldn't do to go out in the morning fog without a
lining," said Dunn.

"Name it! name it! shentlemen," exclaimed the Dutchman, as he rapped his
fingers upon the counter, and seemed impatient to draw forth his filthy
stuff. They named their drinks, each with a different name. Manuel
not being a Charleston graduate in the profession of mixing drinks and
attaching slang names to them, Mr. Dusenberry undertook to instruct
him in a choice. The Dutchman was an adept at mixing, and the "morning
pulls" were soon set out to the extreme satisfaction of Dunn and
Dusenberry. "All right! tip her down, my old fellow; none o' yer
screwed faces over such liquor as that. We drink on the legitimate, in
Charleston, and can put it down until we see stars," said Dusenberry,
addressing himself to Manuel, who was making a wry face, while straining
to swallow the cut-throat stuff.

Dusenberry now left Manuel in charge of Dunn, saying he was going out
to attend to some business. Manuel drew from his pocket a quarter of a
Colombian doubloon, and throwing it upon the counter, told the Dutchman
to give him change. The Dutchman picked it up, turned it over several
times, and squinting at it, inquired, in a very unpretending manner,
what its value was. He knew already, yet this was only done to try
Manuel. At the same moment he winked to Dunn, who, stepping up, gave
it a significant toss upon the counter. "The divil a bit more than two
dollars; all right, Swizer," said he.

"'Tis four dollar, West Inge-I want my change," said Manuel, shrugging
his shoulders. "I no want no more than my own; and no man to cheat-e
me."

"Don't be bothering with your four dollars-sure ye a'n't in the West
Inges now; and money's plenty in Charleston, and I can't bring up so
much-half so much. Don't be bothering with yer West Inge nonsense. If
ye try to raise a fuss here, I'll make the Captain suffer. Ye must learn
that it won't do for a <DW65> to dispute a white man in Charleston; we'd
twitch ye up by the same law; we'd put it to our own <DW65>s, and ye'd
git trised up, and about fifty paddles on yer bare butt." The Dutchman
put down a dollar and seventy cents, but Manuel refused to take it up;
when this fellow, Dunn, pretending to be the friend of Manuel, held out
his hand, and telling the bar-keeper to put another dollar, which he
did, he passed it hurriedly into Manuel's hand, and making a pass, told
him to put it into his pocket.

It was now about good business time for the Dutchman, and his customers
were coming in with their bottles and pots in great numbers. The place
was a little filthy hole, very black and dirty, about twelve feet long,
and seven feet wide, with a high board counter almost in the centre. The
only stock-in-trade that decorated it, was a few barrels of lager beer;
several kegs, with names to set forth the different qualities of liquors
painted upon them; a bushel basket about half full of onions, and a few
salt fish in a keg that stood by the door. Around the room were
several benches similar to those in guard-houses. Upon two of them were
stretched two ragged and filthy-looking <DW64>s, who looked as if they
had been spending the night in debauchery. Dunn, as if to show his
authority, limped toward them, and commenced fledging their backs
with his hickory stick in a most unmerciful manner, until one poor old
fellow, with a lame hand, cried out for mercy at the top of his voice.

"It's a bad business keeping these <DW65>s here all night, Swizer-you
know I've done the clean thing with you several times," said Dunn,
pointing his finger at the Dutchman; who winked, and coming from behind
the counter, slipped something into his hand, and stepping to the door,
assumed some threatning language against the <DW64>s, should they ever
came back to his store. A large portion of those who came for liquor
were <DW64>s, who looked as if they were parting with their last cent
for stimulant, for they were ragged and dirty, and needed bread more
than liquor. Their condition seemed pitiful in the extreme, and yet the
Dutch "corner-shop keeper" actually got rich from their custom, and so
craving was he upon their patronage, that he treated them with much more
courtesy than his white customers.

These "Dutch corner-shops" are notorious places in Charleston, and
are discountenanced by respectable citizens, because they become the
rendezvous of "<DW65>s," who get into bad habits and neglect their
masters' or mistresses' business. Yet the keepers exert such an
influence at elections, that the officials not only fear them, but in
order to secure their favors, leave their rascality unmolested. Well
might a writer in the Charleston Courier of August 31, 1852, say--

"We were astonished, with many others, at the sweeping charges made in
the resolutions passed at the HUTCHINSON meeting at Hatch's Hall,
and were ready to enlist at once to lend our voice to turn out an
'administration' that for two years permitted 'moral sentiment to
be abandoned,' 'truthfulness disregarded,' 'reverence for religion
obliterated,' 'protection to religious freedom refused,' 'licentiousness
allowed,' 'and a due administration for vice, neglected.'" These charges
stand unrefuted, and with but one or two exceptions, we have never
known one of those unlawful corner shops prosecuted by the present
administration. And those single instances only where they were driven
to notice the most flagrant abuses.

It is strictly "contrary to law in Charleston," to sell liquor to a
<DW64> without an order from a white man; the penalty being fine
and imprisonment. Yet, so flagrant has become the abuse, that it
is notorious that hush-money is paid by a certain class of Dutch
liquor-sellers to the officers. In nearly all the streets of Charleston,
where there is a shanty or nook large enough to hold a counter and some
tumblers, these wretches may be found dealing out their poisonous drugs
to a poor, half-starved class of <DW64>s, who resort to all kinds of
dishonest means to get money to spend at their counters. These places
are nearly all kept by foreigners, whose merciless avarice scruples at
nothing, however mean. They soon become possessed of considerable means,
and through their courtesy and subserviency to the <DW64>-for they are
the only class of whites that will beg his pardon, if they have offended
him-carry on a sort of active rivalry with each other for his custom. It
is from these miserable hells that seven-tenths of the crimes arise for
which the poor <DW64> is dragged to the work-house and made to suffer
under the paddle.

And yet these very men, whose connivance at vice and crime is
disregarded by the law, rise and take position in society-not only
entering into more respectable business-but joining in that phalanx
who are seeking the life-blood of the old Southerner, and like a silent
moth, working upon his decay. There is a deep significance in the answer
so frequently given in Charleston to the interrogatory, "Who lives in
that splendid dwelling-it seems to have been the mansion of a prince,
but is somewhat decayed?"

"Oh! bless me, yes! It was once the mansion of the So-and-sos, one of
the first families, but they're very poor now. Mr. What-you-may-call-em
owns it now-they say he didn't get it honestly. He kept a little
grog-shop on the Bay, or sold bacon and whisky on the Bay, and made
awful charges against poor So-and-so, and after a long trial in Chancery
he got his house. He's a big fellow; now, I tell you, and is going to
fit the house up for himself!"

Dunn told Manuel to be seated, that there was no occasion for hurrying;
it would be all right if he got to the sheriffs office at nine o'clock;
and then commenced descanting upon the fine time he would have at the
jail. "There's a right good lot of comrades there, me boy; ye'll have
fiddling and dancing, plenty of gals, and a jolly time; and ye a'n't a
criminal, ye know, so it won't be any thing at all, only keep up a stiff
under-lip. Come, let us take another drink; I feel mighty husky this
morning!" said he.

Just at this time Dusenberry re-entered, puffing and blowing as if he
had been engaged in a foot-race. "Another bird for old Grimshaw, at
Commercial Wharf! I know'd she had one aboard, 'cause I seed him from
the wharf," said he, in perfect ecstasy, pulling out a pencil and making
a note in a little book.

"Don't be a child," said Dunn. "Come, we have just proposed another
drink; you join of course; ye niver says no,--eh, Duse?" They stepped to
the counter, and Dunn, again, pointing his finger upon his nose at the
Dutchman, who stood with his hands spread upon the counter, called for
gin and bitters, Stoughton light. Turning to Manuel, who was sitting
upon a bench with his head reclined upon his hand, apparently in deep
meditation, he took him by the collar in a rude manner, and dragging him
to the counter, said, "Come, by the pipers, rouse up your spirits, and
don't be sulking, my old Portugee; take another O-be-joyful, and it'll
put ye all right, and ye'll dance a hornpipe like a jim-crack."

"Excuse me, sir; I think I have taken enough; do, please, either take me
back to my vessel, or where you are going to. This is no place for me!"
said Manuel.

"Sure, what signifies; don't be talking your botheration here; a <DW65>
musn't sauce a white man. Come, there's no use backing out; you must
take a glass of Swizer's lager beer," said Dunn.

Manuel looked around him, and then closing up very reluctantly, the
Dutchman filled his glass with frothy beer, and the three touched
glasses and drank. They then retired to a bench and commenced discussing
the propriety of some point of their official privileges, while Manuel
was left standing at the counter.

"Who pay de drink vat shu get?" inquired the Dutchman, anxious to serve
two little <DW65>s who had just come in with bottles in their hands.

"It was our friend's treat; come, my good fellow, do the clean thing
according to Southern science. We'll put a good word in for you to the
jailer; you won't lose nothing by it," said Dusenberry.

"My friends, I work hard for my money, and have none to spend foolishly.
The small amount is of little consequence, but I would much sooner make
you a present of it, than to be drugged by pretence. I've no desire to
indulge the propensities of others. Whatever you are going to do with
me, do it; and let me know my fate. I am sick and fatigued, and have
need for the doctor. Take me to a prison or where you please. I have
done no crime; I want sleep, not punishment. Next time I shipwrecked,
I get plank and go overboard 'fore I cum to Charleston." So saying, he
pulled out fifty cents and threw it upon the counter, and the Dutchman
swept it into the drawer, as if it was all right, and "just the change."

"Shut up, you black rascal, you; you musn't talk that way in South
Carolina; we'll have you stretched on the frame and paddled for
insolence to a white man. D--n me, if you're in such a hurry for it,
just come along," said Dusenberry; and reaching his hand over to Dunn,
took the handcuffs from him and attempted to put them on Manuel's
wrists. The poor fellow struggled and begged for more than ten minutes,
and was wellnigh overpowering them, when Dusenberry drew a long
dirk-knife from his bosom, and holding it in a threatening attitude
at his breast, uttered one of those fierce yells such as are common to
slave-hunters, whose business it is to hunt and run down runaway <DW65>s
with bloodhounds. "Submit, you black villain, or I'll have your heart's
blood; bring a rope, and we'll trise him up here. Jump, be quick,
Swizer!" said he, addressing himself to the Dutchman. The Dutchman ran
into the front apartment; brought out a cord similar to a clothes-line;
and commenced to undo it.

"Do you give up now?" said Dusenberry, still holding the knife pointed
at him. Manuel was in the habit of carrying a poniard when on shore in
foreign countries, and put his hand to his breast-pocket to feel for
it. He remembered that he had left it in his chest, and that resistance
would be useless against a posse giving expression to such hostility to
him. The shackles were put upon his hands with ruffianly force.

"Oh! am I a man, or am I a brute? What have I done to receive such
treatment? May God look down upon me and forgive me my transgressions;
for in his hands are my rights, and he will give me justice," said
Manuel, looking his cruel torturers in the face.

"A man! No, by heavens, you're a <DW65>; an' it's that we'd he teaching
you! Come, none of yer sermons here, trot off! We'll give you a
handkerchief to cover your hands, if you're so d--d delicate about
walking through the streets," said Dunn, throwing him an old red
handkerchief, and marching him along through Broad street. Dusenberry
now left him entirely in the charge of Dunn; while, as he said, he went
to Adger's Wharf to keep his eye on another vessel that was approaching
the dock. The tricks of this man Dunn were well known to those,
connected with the police and sheriff's office; but, instead of being
displaced for his many offences, he was looked upon by them as the best
officer upon the rolls; and in fishing for mischievous <DW65>s he was
held as a perfect paragon. In this instance he was not contented with
the outrages he had inflicted upon Manuel at the Dutch grog-shop, which
he had forced him into, but he would stop in the public street to hold
conversation with every cove he met, and keep the poor man standing for
public gaze, like chained innocence awaiting the nod of a villain. The
picture would have been complete, if a monster in human form were placed
in the foreground applying the lash, according to the statute laws of
South Carolina.




CHAPTER XI. THE SHERIFF'S OFFICE.



IT is nine o'clock, on the morning of the 24th March, 1852. Manuel was
marched into the sheriff's office, situated in the court-house, on the
corner of Broad and Meeting streets. A large table stood in the centre
of the room, covered with sundry old papers and an inkstand. At one side
was an old sofa, bearing strong evidence of its being worn out at the
expense of the State. A few pine-wood and painted book-stands, several
tip-staffs, old broken-backed chairs, and last, but not least, a
wood-sawyer's buck-saw, stood here and there in beautiful disorder
around the room; while, as if to display the immense importance of the
office, a "cocked" hat with the judicial sword hung conspicuously above
the old sofa. A door opened upon the left hand, leading into the clerk's
office, where the books and archives of the office were kept. Mr.
Kanapeaux, the incumbent, exhibited a great deal of good feeling, which
it would have lost the sheriff none of his reputation to pattern after,
and kept his office in very respectable order.

"Come in 'ere, Manwell, or whatever yer name is," said Dunn, as he led
the way into the presence of Mr. Grimshaw, the lean, haggard-looking man
we have before described. His dark, craven features, as he sat peering
through his glasses at the morning news, gave him the appearance of a
man of whom little was, to be expected by those who had the misfortune
to fall into his hands.

"Ah! Dunn, you are the best officer in the city; 'pon my soul, these
fellows can't escape you! Where did you pick up that <DW65>?" said he,
with a look of satisfaction.

"A fat fee case, Mr. Grimshaw, 'contrary to law;' he's a Portugee
<DW65>. Never had so much trouble with a <DW65> in my life; I didn't
know but the fellow was going to preach a sermon. The Captain-he belongs
to a wrecked Englishman-wanted to come the gammon game with him, and
pass him for a white man; but sure he couldn't come that game over
meself and Duse, anyhow," said Dunn.

Without saying a word, Manuel stood up before his accusers, upon this
strange charge of "contrary to law."

As he looked upon his accusers, he said, "What have I done to suffer a
murderer's fate? Am I to be sold as a slave, because of the visitation
of God? I have done no murder! No!--nor have I stolen in your land! and
why did these men decoy me into"--

"Silence! silence! You are in the sheriff's office," said Dunn, pointing
his finger at his nose. "You can't come your John Bull <DW65> in South
Carolina."

This brought the sheriff's clerk to the door that led into the passage.
"Dunn, I have warned you about these things several times; the public
are getting wind of them; they'll bring this office into disrepute yet.
You ought to know what effect the association of officials with these
'corner-shop keepers' is already having in the community," said he.

"How the divil do ye know what yer talking about; sure it's his honor's
bisniss, and not yours at all, at all," said Dunn, addressing himself to
Mr. Kanapeaux, and then looking at Mr. Grimshaw.

"Mr. Kanapeaux, you must not interfere with the officers and their
duty; attend to your business, and get, your book ready to register this
<DW65>-boy," said Grimshaw.

"Well, now, my good fellow," continued Grimshaw, "I dislike this
business very much; it don't pay me enough for all the bother I have
with it. 'Tis just a little filtering of fees, which makes the duty of
my office exceedingly annoying. But we must respect the law. We do these
things to protect our institutions and make them as light as possible. I
might give you a great deal of trouble; I have the power, but I make it
a point to consider men in your case, and we'll make you so comfortable
that you won't think of being imprisoned. You must understand that it is
'contrary to law' to come among our <DW65>s in this way; it gives them
fanciful ideas. There's such an infernal imperfect state of things as
these abolitionists are getting every thing into, behooves us to watch
the communications which are going on between, designing people and our
slaves. We are a hospitable people--the world knows that--and have a
religious respect for our laws, which we enforce without respect to
persons. We'd like to let you go about the city, but then it's 'contrary
to law.' Make up your mind, my good fellow, that you are among humane
people, who will seek to benefit you among men of your class. Make
yourself happy--and look upon me as a friend, and you will never be
deceived. I control the jail, and my prisoners are as much attached to
me as they would be to a father."

"It must be humanity that puts these symbols of ignominy upon my hands,"
said Manuel; "that confines me in a dungeon lest I should breathe a word
of liberty to ears that know it only as a fable."

Nobody had asked him to sit down, and, feeling the effect of his
sickness and fatigue, he turned around as if to look for something
to rest against. "You must not sit down,--take off your hat!" said
Grimshaw.

The poor fellow made an effort, but could not effect it with the fetters
on his hands; at which, Dunn stepped up, and snatching it from his head,
flung it upon the floor. "You should learn manners, my good fellow,"
said Grimshaw, "when you come into a sheriff's office. It's a place of
importance, and people always pay respect to it when they come into it;
a few months in Charleston would make you as polite as our <DW65>s."

"Had you not better take the irons off the poor fellow's hands?--he
looks as if he was tired out," said Mr. Kanapeaux, the clerk, who again
came to the door and looked upon Manuel with an air of pity. The words
of sympathy touched his feelings deeply; it was a simple word in his
favour, so different from what he had met since he left the vessel, that
he felt a kind friend had spoken in his behalf, and he gave way to his
feeling in a gush of tears.

"Good suggestion, Mr. Kanapeaux!" said Grimshaw. "Better take 'em off,
Mr. Dunn; I don't think he'll give you any more difficulty. He seems
like a 'likely fellow,' and knows, if he cuts up any <DW65> rascality
in Charleston, he'll be snapped up. Now, my good fellow, put on your
best-natured countenance, and stand as straight as a ramrod. Mr.
Kanapeaux, get your book ready to register him," continued Grimshaw.

Manuel now stood up under a slide, and his height and general features
were noted in the following manner, in order to appease that sovereign
dignity of South Carolina law, which has so many strange devices to show
its importance:--"Contrary to Law." Violation of the Act of 1821, as
amended, &c. &c. Manuel Pereira vs. State of South Carolina, Steward on
board British Brig Janson, Captain Thompson. Entered 24th March, 1852.

Height, 5 feet 8 1/2 inches.

Complexion, light olive, (bright.)

Features, sharp and aquiline.

[Hair and eyes, dark and straight; the former inclined to curl.]

General remarks:--Age, twenty-nine; Portuguese by birth; speaks rather
broken, but politely; is intelligent, well formed, and good looking.
Fees to Sheriff:

To arrest, $2--Registry, $2 - $4 00 To Recog. $1.31--Constable. $1 - $2.31 To
Commitment and discharge, $1.00

$7.31

Jail fees to be added when discharged.

After these remarks were duly entered, and Mr. Grimshaw read another
lecture to him on the importance of South Carolina law, and the kindness
he would receive at his hands if he made himself con-tented, he was told
that he could go and be committed. The poor fellow had stood up until he
was nearly exhausted; yet, it was not enough to gratify the feelings
of that miserable miscreant, Dunn. Scarcely had he left the sheriff's
office, or passed two squares from the court-house, before he entered
another Dutch grog-shop, a little more respectable in appearance-but
not in character. They entered by a side door, which led into a back
apartment provided with a table and two wooden settees. As Dunn entered,
he was recognised by two <DW64>-fellows, who were playing dominoes at the
table. They arose and ran through the front store, into the street, as
if some evil spirit had descended among them. The Dutchman sprang
for the dominoes, and quickly thrust them into a tin measure which he
secreted under the counter.

"Ah! Drydez!" said Dunn; "you vagabond, you; up to the old tricks again?
Ye Dutchmen are worse than the divil! It's meself'll make ye put a five
for that. Come, fork it over straight, and don't be muttering yer Dutch
lingo!"

"Vat zue drink mit me dis morning? Misser Dunz' te best fellow vat comez
in my shop," said Drydez.

"Ah! stop yer botheration, and don't be comin' yer Dutch logger over
an Irishman! put down the five dollars, and we'll take the drinks
presently; meself and me friend here'll drink yer health," said Dunn,
pointing to Manuel, who shook his head as much as to decline. The
Dutchman now opened his drawer, and rolling a bill up in his fingers,
passed it as if unobserved into the hands of Dunn.

"Now, Drydez," said Dunn, "if ye want to do the clean thing, put a
couple of brandy smashes-none of your d--d Dutch cut-throat brandy-the
best old stuff. Come, me old chuck, (turning to Manuel and pulling him
by the Whiskers,) cheer up, another good stiff'ner will put you on your
taps again. South Carolina's a great State, and a man what can't
be happy in Charleston, ought to be put through by daylight by the
abolitionists."

The Dutchman soon prepared the smashes, and supplying them with straws,
put them upon the table, and seated chairs close at hand. "Excuse me!"
said Manuel, "I've drunk enough already, and should like to lie down.
I am unwell, and feel the effect of what I have already taken. I am
too feeble. Pray tell me how far the prison is from here, and I will go
myself."

"Go, is it?--the divil a go ye'll go from this until ye drink the smash.
None of yer Portugee independence here. We larn <DW65>s the politeness
of gintlemen in Charleston, me buck!" and seizing him by the collar,
dragged him to the table, then grasping the tumbler with the other hand,
he held it before his face. "Do you see that? and, bedad, ye'll drink
it, and not be foolin', or I'd put the contents in your phiz," said he.

Manuel took the glass, while the Dutchman stood chuckling over the very
nice piece of fun, and the spice of Mr. Dunn's wit, as he called it.
"Vat zu make him vat'e no vants too? You doz make me laugh so ven zu
comes 'ere, I likes to kilt myself," said Drydez.

A bright mulatto-fellow was now seen in the front store, making
quizzical signs to the Dutchman; who understanding its signification,
lost no time in slipping into his pocket a tumbler nearly half full of
brandy and water; and stepping behind the division door, passed it slily
to the mulatto, who equally as slily passed it down his throat; and
putting a piece of money into the Dutchman's hand, stepped up to the
counter, as if to wait for his change. "All right!" said the Dutchman,
looking around at his shelves, and then again under the counter.

"No so!" said the mulatto; "I want fourpence; you done' dat befor'
several times; I wants my money."

"Get out of my store, or I'll kick you out," said the Dutchman, and
catching up a big club, ran from behind the counter and commenced
belaboring the <DW64> over the head in a most unmerciful manner. At this,
the mulatto retreated into the lane, and with a volley of the vilest
epithets, dared the Dutchman to come out, and he would whip him.

Dunn ran to the scene, and ordered the <DW64> to be off, and not use such
language to a white man, that it was "contrary to law," and he would
take him to the workhouse.

"Why, massa, I knows what 'em respect white men what be gemmen like
yersef, but dat Dutchman stand da'h a'n't no gentlem', he done gone
tieffe my money seven time; an' I whip him sure-jus' lef' him come out
here. I doesn't care for true, and God saw me, I be whip at the wukhouse
next minute. He tief, an' lie, an 'e cheat me." The Dutchman stood at
the door with the big stick in his hand-the <DW64> in the middle of the
lane with his fists in a pugilistic attitude, daring and threatening,
while the limping Dunn stood by the side of the Dutchman, acting as
a mediator. Manuel, taking advantage of the opportunity, emptied his
tumbler down a large opening in the floor.

It is a notorious fact in Charleston, that although the <DW64>, whether
he be a black or white one, is held in abject obedience to the white man
proper, no matter what his grade may be, yet such is the covetous and
condescending character of these groggery keepers, that they become
courteous to the <DW64> and submit to an equality of sociability. The
<DW64>, taking advantage of this familiarity, will use the most insulting
and abusive language to this class of Dutchmen, who, either through
cowardice, or fear of losing their trade, never resent it. We may say,
in the language of Dunn, when he was asked if <DW64>s had such liberties
with white men in Charleston, "A <DW65> knows a Dutch shopkeeper better
than he knows himself-a <DW65> dare not speak that way to anybody else."

The Dutchman gets a double profit from the <DW64>, and with it diffuses
a double vice among them, for which they have to suffer the severest
penalty. It is strictly "contrary to law" to purchase any thing from
a <DW64> without a ticket to sell it, from his master. But how is this
regarded? Why, the shopkeeper foregoes the ticket, encourages the
warehouse <DW64> to steal, and purchases his stealings indiscriminately,
at about one-half their value. We might enumerate fifty different modes
practised by "good" legal voting citizens--totally regardless of the
law--and exerting an influence upon the <DW64> tenfold more direful
than that which could possibly arise from the conversation of a few
respectable men belonging to a friendly nation.

Dunn, after driving the mulatto man from the door and upbraiding the
Dutchman for his cowardice, returned to the table, and patting Manuel
upon the back, drank the balance of his smash, saying, "Come, me good
fellow, we must do the thing up brown, now; we've got the Dutchman
nailed on his own hook. We must have another horn; it's just the stuff
in our climate; the 'Old Jug's' close by, and they'll be makin' a parson
of you when you get there. We've had a right jolly time; and ye can't
wet your whistle when ye're fernint the gates."

"I don't ask such favors, and will drink no more," said Manuel.

"Fill her up, Drydez! fill her up! two more smashes-best brandy and
no mistake. You must drink another, my old chuck-we'll bring the pious
notions out o' ye in Charleston," said Dunn, turning around to Manuel.

The Dutchman filled the glasses, and Dunn, laying his big hickory stick
upon the counter, took one in each hand, and going directly to Manuel,
"There, take it, and drink her off-no humbugging; yer mother niver gave
such milk as that," said he.

"Excuse me, sir; I positively will not!" said Manuel, and no sooner had
he lisped the words, than Dunn threw the whole contents in his face.
Enraged at such outrageous conduct, the poor fellow could stand it no
longer, and fetched him a blow that levelled him upon the floor.

The Dutchman ran to the assistance of Dunn, and succeeded in relieving
him from his unenviable situation. Not satisfied, however, they
succeeded, after a hard struggle, in getting him upon the floor, when
the Dutchman-after calling the assistance of a miserable <DW64>, held
him down while Dunn beat him with his stick. His cries of "Murder" and
"Help" resounded throughout the neighbourhood, and notwithstanding they
attempted to gag him, brought several persons to the spot. Among them
was a well-known master builder, in Charleston-a very muscular and a
very humane man. The rascality of Dunn was no new thing to him, for he
had had practical demonstrations of it upon his own <DW64>s,--who had
been enticed into the "corner shops" for the double purpose of the
Dutchmen getting their money, and the officers getting hush-money from
the owner.

The moment he saw Dunn, he exclaimed, "Ah! you vagabond!" and springing
with the nimbleness of a cat, struck the Dutchman a blow that sent him
measuring his length, into a corner among a lot of empty boxes; then
seizing Dunn by the collar, he shook him like a puppy, and brought him
a slap with his open hand that double-dyed his red face, and brought a
stream of claret from his nose; while the miserable <DW65>, who had been
struggling to hold Manuel down, let go his hold, and ran as if his life
was in danger. The scene was disgusting in the extreme. Manuel arose,
with his face cut in several places, his clothes bedaubed with filth
from the floor, and his neck and shirt-bosom covered with blood; while
the aghast features of Dunn, with his red, matted hair, and his glaring,
vicious eyes, bespattered with the combined blood of his victim and his
own nasal organ, gave him the most fiendish look imaginable.

The gentleman, after reprimanding the Dutchman for keeping up these
miserable practices, which were disgracing the community, and bringing
suffering, starvation, and death upon the slaves, turned to Dunn, and
addressed him. "You are a pretty officer of the law! A villain upon the
highway-a disgrace to your color, and a stain upon those who retain
you in office. A man who has violated the peace and every principle of
honest duty, a man who every day merits the worst criminal punishment,
kept in the favor of the municipal department, to pollute its very name.
If there is a spark of honesty left in the police department, I will use
my influence to stop your conduct. The gallows will be your doom yet.
You must not think because you are leagued in the same traffic."

Dunn kept one of the worst and most notorious drinking-shops in
Charleston, but, to reconcile his office with that strict requirement
which never allowed any thing "contrary to law" in Charleston, he made
his wife a "free trader." This special set of South Carolina may in
effect be classed among its many singular laws. It has an exceedingly
accommodating effect among bankrupt husbands, and acts as a masked
battery for innumerable sins in a business or official line. It so
happens, once in a while, that one of the "fair free dealers" gets
into limbo through the force of some ruthless creditor; and the "Prison
Bounds Act," being very delicate in its bearings, frequently taxes the
gallantry of the chivalrous gentlemen of the Charleston bar that you are
to go unpunished. And you, Drydez," said he, turning to the Dutchman, "I
shall enter you upon the information docket, as soon as I go down into
the city."

"Zeu may tu vat zeu plas mit me-te mayor bees my friend, an' he knowz
vot me ams. Yuz sees zel no bronty, no zin! Vot yu to mit de fine, ah?"
* * *

"I'd like to see you do that same agin Mr.--. It wouldn't be savin'
yerself a pace-warrant, and another for assault and battery! Sure
magistrate Gyles is a first-rate friend of me own, and he'd not suffer
me imposed on. The d--d <DW65> was obstinate and wouldn't go to jail,"
said Dunn in a cowardly, whimpering manner.

"Oh yez, me heard mit 'im swore, vat he no go to zale!" rejoined the
Dutchman anxiously.

"Tell me none of your lies," said he; "you are both the biggest rascals
in town, and carry on your concerted villany as boldly as if you had
the control of the city in your hands." Manuel was trembling under the
emotions of grief and revenge. His Portuguese blood would have revenged
itself at the poniard's point, but fortunately he had left it in his
chest. He saw that he had a friend at his hand, and with the earnestness
of a child, resigned himself to his charge.

In a few minutes quiet was produced, and the gentleman expressing a
desire to know how the trouble originated, inquired of Manuel how it
was brought about. But no sooner had he commenced his story, than he was
interrupted by Dunn asserting his right, according to the laws of South
Carolina, to make his declaration, which could not be refuted by the
<DW64>'s statement, or even testimony at law; and in another moment
jumped up, and taking Manuel by the collar, commanded him to come along
to jail; and turning to the gentleman, dared him to interfere with his
duty.

"I know how you take people to jail, very well. I'll now see that you
perform that duty properly, and not torture prisoners from place to
place before you get there. You inflict a worse punishment in taking
poor, helpless people to jail, than they suffer after they get there!"
said he; and immediately joined Manuel and walked to the jail with him.




CHAPTER XII. THE OLD JAIL.



THERE are three institutions in Charleston-either of which would be
a stain upon the name of civilization-standing as emblems of the
time-established notions of a people, and their cherished love for
the ancestral relics of a gone-by age. Nothing could point with more
unerring aim than these sombre monuments do, to the distance behind the
age that marks the thoughts and actions of the Charlestonians. They are
the poor-house, hospital, and jail; but as the latter only pertains
to our present subject, we prefer to speak of it alone, and leave
the others for another occasion. The workhouse may be said to form an
exception-that being a new building, recently erected upon a European
plan. It is very spacious, with an extravagant exterior, surmounted
by lofty semi-Gothic watch-towers, similar to the old castles upon the
Rhine. So great was the opposition to building this magnificent temple
of a workhouse, and so inconsistent, beyond the progress of the age,
was it viewed by the "manifest ancestry," that it caused the mayor his
defeat at the following hustings. "Young Charleston" was rebuked for its
daring progress, and the building is marked by the singular cognomen
of "Hutchinson's Folly." What is somewhat singular, this magnificent
building is exclusively for <DW64>s. One fact will show how progressive
has been the science of law to govern the <DW64>, while those to which
the white man is subjected are such as good old England conferred upon
them some centuries ago. For felonious and burglarious offences, a white
man is confined in the common jail; then dragged to the market-place,
stripped, and whipped, that the <DW64>s may laugh "and go see buckra
catch it;" while a <DW64> is sent to the workhouse, confined in his cell
for a length of time, and then whipped according to modern science,--but
nobody sees it except by special permission. Thus the <DW64> has the
advantage of science and privacy.

The jail is a sombre-looking building, with every mark of antiquity
standing boldly outlined upon its exterior. It is surrounded by a
high brick wall, and its windows are grated with double rows of bars,
sufficiently strong for a modern penitentiary. Altogether, its dark,
gloomy appearance strikes those who approach it, with the thought and
association of some ancient cruelty. You enter through an iron-barred
door, and on both sides of a narrow portal leading to the right are four
small cells and a filthy-looking kitchen, resembling an old-fashioned
smoke-house. These cells are the debtors'; and as we were passing out,
after visiting a friend, a lame "molatto-fellow" with scarcely rags to
cover his nakedness, and filthy beyond description, stood at what was
called the kitchen door. "That poor dejected object," said our friend,
"is the cook. He is in for misdemeanor-one of the peculiar shades of
it, for which a <DW65> is honored with the jail." "It seems, then, that
cooking is a punishment in Charleston, and the <DW64> is undergoing the
penalty," said we. "Yes!" said our friend; "but the poor fellow has a
sovereign consolation, which few <DW65>s in Charleston can boast of-and
none of the prisoners here have-he can get enough to eat."

The poor fellow held out his hand as we passed him, and said, "Massa,
gin poor Abe a piece o' 'bacca'?" We freely gave him all in our
possession.

On the left side, after passing the main iron door, are the jailer's
apartments. Passing through another iron door, you ascend a narrow,
crooked stairs and reach the second story; here are some eight or nine
miserable cells-some large and some small-badly ventilated, and entirely
destitute of any kind of furniture: and if they are badly ventilated
for summer, they are equally badly provided with means to warm them in
winter. In one of these rooms were nine or ten persons, when we visited
it; and such was the morbid stench escaping from it, that we were
compelled to put our handkerchiefs to our faces. This floor is
appropriated for such crimes as assault and battery; assault and
battery, with intent to kill; refractory seamen; deserters; violating
the statutes; suspicion of arson and murder; witnesses; all sorts of
crimes, varying from the debtor to the positive murderer, burglar,
and felon. We should have enumerated, among the rest, all stewards,
(,) whether foreign or domestic, who are committed on that
singular charge, "contrary to law." And it should have been added, even
though cast away upon our "hospitable shores." Among all these different
shades of criminals, there must be some very bad men. And we could
recount three who were pointed out to us, as very dangerous men, yet
were allowed the favor of this floor and its associations. One was
an Irish sailor, who was sentenced to three years and nine months'
imprisonment by the United States court, for revolt and a desperate
attempt to murder the captain of a ship; the next was a German, a
soldier in the United States army, sentenced to one year and eight
months' imprisonment for killing his comrade; and the third was an
English sailor, who killed a woman-but as she happened to be of doubtful
character, the presiding judge of the sessions sentenced him to a light
imprisonment, which the Governor very condescendingly pardoned after a
few weeks.

The two former acted as attendants, or deputy jailers; with the
exception of turning the key, which privilege the jailer reserved for
himself exclusively. The principle may seem a strange one, that places
men confined upon such grave charges in a superior position over
prisoners; and may be questionable with regard to the discipline itself.

From this floor, another iron door opened, and a winding passage led
into the third and upper story, where a third iron door opened into a
vestibule, on the right and left of which were grated doors secured with
heavy bolts and bars. These opened into narrow portals with dark, gloomy
cells on each side. In the floor of each of these cells was a large iron
ring-bolt, doubtless intended to chain refractory prisoners to; but we
were informed that such prisoners were kept in close stone cells, in
the yard, which were commonly occupied by <DW64>s and those condemned
to capital punishment. The ominous name of this third story was "Mount
Rascal," intended, no doubt, as significant of the class of prisoners
it contained. It is said that genius is never idle: the floor of these
cells bore some evidence of the fact in a variety of very fine specimens
of carving and flourish work, done with a knife. Among them was a
well-executed crucifix; with the Redeemer, on Calvary-an emblem of hope,
showing how the man marked the weary moments of his durance. We spoke
with many of the prisoners, and heard their different stories, some of
which were really painful. Their crimes were variously stated, from that
of murder, arson, and picking pockets, down to the felon who had stolen
a pair of shoes to cover his feet; one had stolen a pair of pantaloons,
and a little boy had stolen a few door-keys. Three boys were undergoing
their sentence for murder. A man of genteel appearance, who had been
sentenced to three years imprisonment, and to receive two hundred and
twenty lashes in the market, at different periods, complained bitterly
of the injustice of his case. Some had been flogged in the market, and
were awaiting their time to be flogged again and discharged; and others
were confined on suspicion, and had been kept in this close durance
for more than six months, awaiting trial. We noticed that this worst of
injustice, "the law's delay," was felt worse by those confined on the
suspicion of some paltry theft, who, even were they found guilty by a
jury, would not have been subjected to more than one week imprisonment.
Yet such was the adherence to that ancient system of English criminal
jurisprudence, that it was almost impossible for the most innocent
person to get a hearing, except at the regular sessions, "which sit
seldom, and with large intervals between." There is indeed a city
court in Charleston, somewhat more modern in its jurisprudence than the
sessions. It has its city sheriff, and its city officers, and holds its
terms more frequently. Thus is Charleston doubly provided with sheriffs
and officials. Both aspire to a distinct jurisdiction in civil and
criminal cases. Prisoners seem mere shuttlecocks between the sheriffs,
with a decided advantage in favor of the county sheriff, who is autocrat
in rei over the jail; and any criminal who has the good fortune to get
a hearing before the city judge, may consider himself under special
obligation to the county sheriff for the favor.

We noticed these cells were much cleaner than those below, yet there
was a fetid smell escaping from them. This we found arose from the tubs
being allowed to stand in the rooms, where the criminals were closely
confined, for twenty-four hours, which, with the action of the damp,
heated atmosphere of that climate, was of itself enough to breed
contagion. We spoke of the want of ventilation and the noxious fumes
that seemed almost pestilential, but they seemed to have become
habituated to it, and told us that the rooms on the south side were
lighter and more comfortable. Many of them spoke cheerfully, and
endeavored to restrain their feelings, but the furrows upon their
haggard countenances needed no tongue to utter its tale.

Hunger was the great grievance of which they complained; and if
their stories were true--and we afterward had strong proofs that they
were--there was a wanton disregard of common humanity, and an abuse of
power the most reprehensible. The allowance per day was a loaf of bad
bread, weighing about nine ounces, and a pint of thin, repulsive soup,
so nauseous that only the most necessitated appetite could be forced
to receive it, merely to sustain animal life. This was served in a
dirty-looking tin pan, without even a spoon to serve it. One man told us
that he had subsisted on bread and water for nearly five weeks-that
he had lain down to sleep in the afternoon and dreamed that he was
devouring some wholesome nourishment to stay the cravings of his
appetite, and awoke to grieve that it was but a dream. In this manner
his appetite was doubly aggravated, yet he could get nothing to appease
its wants until the next morning. To add to this cruelty, we found two
men in close confinement, the most emaciated and abject specimens of
humanity we have ever beheld. We asked ourselves, "Lord God! was it
to be that humanity should descend so low?" The first was a forlorn,
dejected-looking creature, with a downcast countenance, containing
little of the human to mark his features. His face was covered with
hair, and so completely matted with dirt and made fiendish by the tufts
of coarse hair that hung over his forehead, that a thrill of horror
invaded our feelings. He had no shoes on his feet; and a pair of ragged
pantaloons, and the shreds of a striped shirt without sleeves, secured
around the waist with a string, made his only clothing. In truth, he had
scarce enough on to cover his nakedness, and that so filthy and swarming
with vermin, that he kept his shoulders and hands busily employed; while
his skin was so incrusted with dirt as to leave no trace of its original
complexion. In this manner he was kept closely confined, and was more
like a wild beast who saw none but his keepers when they came to throw
him his feed. Whether he was kept in this manner for his dark deeds or
to cover the shame of those who speculated upon his misery, we leave to
the judgment of the reader.

We asked this poor mortal what he had done to merit such a punishment?
He held his head down, and motioned his fevered lips. "Speak out!" said
we, "perhaps we can get you out." "I had no shoes, and I took a pair
of boots from the gentleman I worked with," said he in a low, murmuring
tone,

"Gracious, man!" said we, "a pair of boots! and is that all you are here
for?"

"Yes, sir! he lives on the wharf, is very wealthy, and is a good man:
't wasn't his fault, because he tried to get me out if I'd pay for the
boots, but they wouldn't let him."

"And how long have you been thus confined?" said we.

"Better than five months-but it's because there a'n't room up stairs.
They've been promising me some clothes for a long time, but they don't
come," he continued.

"And how much longer have you to stop in this condition?"

"Well, they say 'at court sets in October; it's somethin' like two
months off; the grand jury'll visit the jail then, and maybe they'll
find a bill' against me, and I'll be tried. I dont't care if they only
don't flog me in that fish-market."

"Then you have not been tried yet? Well, may God give that man peace
to enjoy his bounty, who would consign a poor object like thee to such
cruelty!" said we.

"I was raised in Charleston-can neither read nor write-I have no father,
and my mother is crazy in the poor-house, and I work about the city for
a living, when I'm out!" said he. There was food for reflection in
this poor fellow's simple story, which we found to be correct, as
corroborated by the jailer.

"Do you get enough to eat?" we asked.

"Oh no, indeed! I could eat twice as much-that's the worst on't: 't
wouldn't be bad only for that. I git me loaf' in the mornin', and me
soup at twelve, but I don't git nothin' to eat at night, and a feller's
mighty hungry afore it's time to lay down," said he.

We looked around the room, and not seeing any thing to sleep upon,
curiosity led us to ask him where he slept.

"The jail allows us a blanket-that's mine in the corner: I spread it
at night when I wants to go to bed," he answered, quite contentedly. We
left the poor wretch, for our feelings could withstand it no longer. The
state of society that would thus reduce a human being, needed more pity
than the calloused bones reduced to such a bed. His name was Bergen.

The other was a young Irishman, who had been dragged to jail in his
shirt, pantaloons, and hat, on suspicion of having stolen seven dollars
from a comrade. He had been in jail very near four months, and in regard
to filth and vermin was a counterpart of the other. A death-like smell,
so offensive that we stopped upon the threshold, escaped from the room
as soon as the door opened, enough to destroy a common constitution,
which his emaciated limbs bore the strongest evidence of.

The prisoners upon the second story were allowed the privilege of the
yard during certain hours in the day, and the debtors at all hours in
the day; yet, all were subjected to the same fare. In the yard were a
number of very close cells, which, as we have said before, were kept
for <DW64>s, refractory criminals, and those condemned to capital
punishment. These cells seemed to be held as a terror over the
criminals, and well they might, for we never witnessed any thing more
dismal for the tenement of man.




CHAPTER XIII. HOW IT IS.



IT is our object to show the reader how many gross abuses of power exist
in Charleston, and to point him to the source. In doing this, the task
becomes a delicate one, for there are so many things we could wish were
not so, because we know there are many good men in the community whose
feelings are enlisted in the right, but their power is not coequal; and
if it were, it is checked by an opposite influence.

The more intelligent of the lower classes look upon the subject of
politics in its proper light--they see the crashing effect the doctrine
of nullification has upon their interests; yet, though their numbers
are not few, their voice is small, and cannot sound through the channels
that make popular influence. Thus all castes of society are governed by
impracticable abstractions.

The jail belongs to the county--the municipal authorities have no voice
in it; and the State, in its legislative benevolence, has provided
thirty cents a day for the maintenance of each prisoner. This small sum,
in the State of South Carolina, where provision is extremely high, may
be considered as a paltry pittance; but more especially so when the
magnificent pretensions of South Carolina are taken into consideration,
and a comparison is made between this meagre allowance and that of other
States. Even Georgia, her sister State, and one whose plain modesty is
really worthy of her enterprising citizens, takes a more enlightened
view of a criminal's circumstances-allows forty-four cents a day for his
maintenance, and treats him as if he was really a human being. But
for this disparity and the wanton neglect of humane feelings South
Carolinians excuse themselves upon the ground that they have no
penitentiary; nor do they believe in that system of punishment,
contending that it creates an improper competition with the honest
mechanic, and gives countenance to crime, because it attempts to improve
criminals. The common jail is made the place of confinement, while the
whipping-post and starvation supply the correctives.

The sheriff being created an absolute functionary, with unlimited
powers to control the jail in all its varied functions, without either
commissioners or jail-committee, what state of management may be
expected? The court gives no specific direction as to the apartment or
mode of confinement when sentencing a criminal; consequently, it becomes
an established fact that the legislative confidence deposed in the
sheriff is used as a medium of favors, to be dispensed as best suits the
feelings or interests of the incumbent. Such power in the hands of an
arbitrary, vindictive, or avaricious man, affords unlimited means of
abuse, and without fear of exposure.

It may be inferred from what we have said that the jailer was relax in
his duty. This is not the case, for we have good authority that a more
kind-hearted and benevolent man never filled the office. But his power
was so restricted by those in absolute control, that his office became a
mere turnkey's duty, for which he was paid the pittance of five hundred
dollars a year or thereabouts. Thus he discharged his duty according to
the instructions of the sheriff, who, it was well known, looked upon
the jail as a means of speculation; and in carrying out his purposes, he
would give very benevolent instructions in words, and at the same time
withhold the means of carrying them out, like the very good man who
always preached but never practised.

Now, how is it? What is the regimen of this jail-prison and how is it
provided? We will say nothing of that arduous duty which the jailer
performs for his small sum; nor the report that the sheriff's office
is worth fourteen thousand dollars a year: these things are too well
established. But the law provides thirty cents a day for the prisoner's
maintenance, which shall be received by the sheriff, who is to procure
one pound of good bread, and one pound of good beef per day for each
man. Now this provision is capable of a very elastic construction. The
poor criminal is given a loaf of bad bread, costing about three cents,
and a pound of meat, the most unwholesome and sickly in its appearance,
costing five cents. Allowing a margin, however, and we may say the
incumbent has a very nice profit of from eighteen to twenty cents
per day on each prisoner. But, as no provision is made against the
possibility of the criminal eating his meat raw, he is very delicately
forced to an alternative which has another profitable issue for the
sheriff; that of taking a pint of diluted water, very improperly called
soup. Thus is carried out that ancient law of England which even she
is now ashamed to own. Our feelings are naturally roused against the
perpetration of such abuses upon suffering humanity. We struggle between
a wish to speak well of her whose power it is to practise them, and an
imperative duty that commands us to speak for those who cannot speak for
themselves.

These things could not exist if the public mind was properly
enlightened. It is unnecessary to spend many words in exposing
such palpable abuses, or to trace the cause of their existence and
continuance. One cause of this is the wilful blindness and silly
gasconade of some of those who lead and form public opinion. With South
Carolinians, nothing is done in South Carolina that is not greater than
ever was done in the United States-no battles were ever fought that
South Carolina did not win-no statesman was ever equal to Mr. Calhoun-no
confederacy would be equal to the Southern, with South Carolina at its
head-no political doctrines contain so much vital element as secession,
and no society in the Union is equal to South Carolina for caste and
elegance-not excepting the worthy and learned aristocracy of Boston.

A will to do as it pleases and act as it pleases, without national
restraint, is the great drawback under which South Carolina sends forth
her groaning tale of political distress. Let her look upon her dubious
glory in its proper light-let her observe the rights of others, and
found her acts in justice!--annihilate her grasping spirit, and she will
find a power adequate to her own preservation. She can then show to the
world that she gives encouragement to the masses, and is determined to
persevere in that moderate and forbearing policy which creates its own
protection, merits admiration abroad, instead of rebuke, and which
needs no gorgeous military display to marshal peace at the point of the
bayonet.




CHAPTER XIV. MANUEL PEREIRA COMMITTED.



IT was nearly eleven o'clock as they ascended the jail steps and rang
the bell for admittance. The jailer, a stout, rough-looking man, opened
the iron door, and as Manuel was about to step over the stone sill, Dunn
gave him a sudden push that sent him headlong upon the floor. "Heavens!
what now?" inquired the jailer with a look of astonishment, and at the
next moment Dunn raised his foot to kick Manuel in the face.

"You infernal beast!" said the jailer, "you are more like a savage than
a man-you are drunk now, you vagabond," and jumped in between them to
save him from the effect of the blow. As he did this, the gentleman who
accompanied them from the "corner-shop," as a protection against Dunn's
cruelty, fetched Dunn a blow on the back of the neck that made him
stagger against a door, and created such confusion as to arouse the
whole jail. Turning to Manuel, he, with the assistance of the jailer,
raised him from the ground and led him into the jail-office. "Mister
jailer," said Dunn, "the prisoner is mine until such times as you
receipt the commitment, and I demand protection from you against this
man. He has committed two violent assaults upon me, when I'd be doing me
duty."

"You have violated all duty, and are more like an incarnate fiend. You
first decoy men into rum-shops, and then you plunder and abuse them,
because you think they are black and can get no redress. You abused that
man unmercifully, because you knew his evidence was not valid against
you!" said the gentleman, turning to the jailer, and giving him the
particulars of what he saw in the "corner-shop," and what cruelties he
had seen practised by Dunn on former occasions.

The jailer looked upon Manuel with commiseration, and handed him a chair
to sit down on. The poor fellow was excited and fatigued, for he had
eaten nothing that day, and been treated more like a brute than a human
being from the time, he left the ship until he arrived at the jail. He
readily accepted the kind offer, and commenced to tell the story of his
treatment.

"You need' not tell me,--I know too much of that man already. It has
long been a mystery to me why he is retained in office."--

Here Dunn interrupted. "Sure it's yer master I'd obey and not yerself,
an' I'd do what I'd plase with prisoners, and, it's his business and not
yeers. If ye had yer way, sure you'd be makin' white men of every <DW65>
that ye turned a key upon."

"Give me none of your insolence," said the jailer. "You have no
authority beyond my door. Your brutal treatment to prisoners has caused
me an immense deal of trouble-more than my paltry pay would induce me
to stay for. Suppose you were indicted for these outrages? What would be
the result?" asked the jailer.

"Sure it's meself could answer for the sheriff, without yer bothering
yerself. I'd not work for yer, but for him; and he's yer master anyhow,
and knows all about it. Give me the receipt, and that's all I'd ax yer.
When a <DW65> don't mind me, I just makes him feel the delight of a
hickory stick."

"Yes, if you had the shame of a man in you, you'd not make a beast of
yourself with liquor, and treat these poor stewards as if they were
dogs," said the jailer.

"Indeed, ye might learn a thing or two if ye was a politician like
meself, and belonged to the secession party. An' if his honor the
sheriff-for he's a dacent man-knew ye'd be preachin' in that shape, ye
wouldn't keep the jail f'nent the morning. Be letting me out, and make
much of the <DW65>; ye have him there."

The jailer unlocked the door and allowed him to pass out, with a
pertinent rebuke. This was but a trifling affair in Dunn's ear, for he
knew his master's feelings too well, and was backed by him in his most
intolerable proceedings. Returning to the office, he looked at the
commitment, and then again at Manuel. "This is a 'contrary to law' case,
I see, Mr. Manuel; you are a likely fellow too, to come within that,"
said he.

"Yes. If I understand him right, he's a shipwrecked sailor, belonging
to a foreign vessel that was driven in here in distress," said the
man. "It's a hard law that imprisons a  seaman who comes here
voluntarily; but it seems beyond all manner of precedent to imprison
a shipwrecked man like this, especially when he seems so respectable.
There are no circumstances to warrant the enforcement of such a law."
Thus saying, he left the jail.

Be it said of the jailer, to his honor, so far as personal kindness
went, he did his utmost--brought him water to wash himself, and gave
him some clean clothes. After which, he was registered upon the criminal
calendar as follows:--

"March 24, 1852.--Manuel Peirire.--[Committed by] Sheriff--Sheriff.
Crime--Contrary to law."

Now the jailer had done his duty, so far as his feelings were concerned;
but, such were the stern requirements of the law, and his functions
so restricted by Mr. Grimshaw, that he dare not make distinctions. He
called Daley, one of the criminal assistants, and ordered him to show
the prisoner his room.

"Here, my boy, take yer blanket," said Daley; and throwing him a coarse,
filthy-looking blanket, told him to roll it up and follow him. "It's on
the second floor we'll put ye, among the stewards; there's a nice lot
on 'em to keep yer company, and ye'll have a jolly time, my boy." Manuel
followed through the second iron door until he came to a large door
secured with heavy bolts and bars, which Daley began to withdraw and
unlock. "Don't be takin' it amiss; it's a right good crib, savin' the'
bed, an' it's that's the worst of it. Bad luck to old Grimshaw, an'
himself thinks everybody's bones be's as tuf as his own," said Daley,
and threw open the heavy doors, sending forth those ominous prison
sounds. "All here? Ah! yer a pretty set of lambs, as the British consul
calls yees. Have ye ever a drop to spare?" At this, three or four
respectable-looking black men came to the door and greeted Manuel.
"Come, talk her out, for th' auld man'll be on the scent." At this, one
of the confined stewards, a tall, good-looking mulatto man, ran his hand
into a large opening in the wall, and drew forth a little soda-bottle
filled with Monongahela whisky. Without giving reasonable time for
politeness, Daley seized the bottle, and putting it to his mouth, gauged
about half its contents into his homony dept, smacked his lips,
wiped his mouth with his cuff, and, passing the balance back, shut and
rebolted the door, after saying, "Good luck till yees, an' I wish yees
a merry time." The reader may imagine what provision the State or the
sheriff had made for the comfort of these poor men, one of whom was
imprisoned because it was "contrary to law" to be driven into the port
of Charleston in distress, and the rest, peaceable, unoffending citizens
belonging to distant States and countries, and guilty of no crime, when
we describe the room and regimen to which they were subjected. The room
was about twenty-six feet long and ten feet wide. The brick walls were
plastered and  with some kind of blue wash, which, however, was
so nearly obliterated with dirt and the damp of a southern climate, as
to leave but little to show what its original color was. The walls were
covered with the condensed moisture of the atmosphere, spiders hung
their festooned network overhead, and cockroaches and ants, those
domesticated pests of South Carolina, were running about the floor in
swarms, and holding all legal rights to rations in superlative contempt.
Two small apertures in the wall, about fourteen inches square, and
double-barred with heavy flat iron, served to admit light and air. The
reader may thus judge of its gloomy appearance, and what a miserable
unhealthy cell it must have been in which to place men just arrived from
sea. There was not the first vestige of furniture in the room, not;
even a bench to sit upon, for the State, with its gracious hospitality,
forgot that men in jail ever sit down; but it was in keeping with all
other things that the State left to the control of its officials.

"Am I to be punished in this miserable place? Why, I cannot see where
I'm going; and have I nothing to lay down upon but the floor, and that
creeping with live creatures?" inquired Manuel of those who were already
inured to the hardship.

"Nothing! nothing! Bring your mind to realize the worst, and forget the
cruelty while you are suffering it; they let us out a part of the day.
We are locked up to-day because one of the assistants stole my friend's
liquor, and he dared to accuse him of the theft, because he was a white
man," said a tall, fine-looking mulatto man by the name of James Redman,
who was steward on board a Thomastown (Maine) ship, and declared that he
had visited Charleston on a former occasion, and by paying five dollars
to one of the officers, remained on board of the ship unmolested.

"And how long shall I have to suffer in this manner?" inquired Manuel.
"Can I not have my own bed and clothing?"

"Oh, yes," said Redman; "you can have them, but if you bring them here,
they'll not be worth anything when you leave; and the prisoners upon
this floor are so starved and destitute, that necessity forces them
to steal whatever comes in their way; and the assistants are as much
implicated as the prisoners. You'll fare hard; but just do as we do in
a calm, wait for the wind to blow, and pray for the best. If you say any
thing, or grumble about it, the sheriff will order you locked, up on the
third story, and that's worse than death itself. The first thing you do,
make preparations for something to eat. We pay for it here, but don't
get it; and you'd starve afore you'd eat what they give them poor white
prisoners. They suffer worse than we do, only they have cleaner rooms."

"I pray for my deliverance from such a place as this."

His manners and appearance at once enlisted the respect of those
present, and they immediately set to work, with all the means at hand,
to make him comfortable. Joseph Jociquei, a young man who had been taken
from a vessel just arrived from Rio, and was more fortunate than the
rest, in having a mattrass, seeing Manuel's weak condition, immediately
removed it from its place, and spreading it upon the floor, invited him
to lay down. The invitation was as acceptable as it was kind on the
part of Jociquei, and the poor fellow laid his weary limbs upon it, and
almost simultaneously fell into a profound sleep. Manuel continued to
sleep. His face and head were scarred in several places; which were
dressed and covered with pieces of plaster that the jailer had supplied.
His companions, for such we shall call those who were confined with him,
sat around him, discussing the circumstances that brought him there, and
the manner in which they could best relieve his suffering. "It's just
as I was sarved," said Redman. "And I'll bet that red-headed constable,
Dunn, brought him up: and abused him in all them Dutch shops. I didn't
know the law, and he made me give him three dollars not to put the
handcuffs upon me, and then I had to treat him in every grog-shop we
came to. Yes, and the last shop we were in, he throw'd liquor in me
face, cursed the Dutchman that kept the shop, kick'd me, and tried every
way in the world to raise a fuss. If I hadn't know'd the law here too
well, I'd whipt him sure. I have suffered the want of that three dollars
since I bin here. 'Twould sarved me for coffee. We have neither coffee
nor bread to-night, for we gave our allowance of bad bread to the white
prisoners, but we must do something to make the poor fellow comfortable.
I know the constable has kept him all day coming up, and he'll be hungry
as soon as he awakes."

"Won't he receive his allowance to-day like another prisoner?" inquired
Copeland, a thick-set, well made, dark-skinned <DW64> steward, who had
formerly conducted a barber shop in Fleet street, Boston, but was now
attached to the schooner Oscar Jones, Kellogg, master.

"Oh! no, sir," said Redman, "that's against the rules of the jail-every
thing is done by rule here, even to paying for what we don't get, and
starving the prisoners. A man that don't come in before eleven o'clock
gets no ration until the next morning. I know, because I had a fuss with
the jailer about it, the first day I was brought in; but he gin me a
loaf out of his own house. The old sheriff never allows any thing done
outside the rules, for he's tighter than a mantrap. 'T a'n't what ye
suffers in this cell, but it's what ye don't get to eat; and if that
poor feller a'n't got money, he'll wish himself alongside the caboose
again 'fore he gets out." The poor fellows were driven to the extreme of
providing sustenance to sustain life. They mustered their little means
together, and by giving a sum to the sheriff's black boy, (a man more
intelligent, gentlemanly, and generous-hearted than his master,) had a
measure of coffee, sugar, and bread brought in. Necessity was the mother
of invention with them, for they had procured a barrel for twenty-five
cents, and made it supply the place of a table. With a few chips that
were brought to them by a kind-hearted <DW52> woman that did their
washing, and bestowed many little acts of kindness, they made a fire,
endured the annoyance of a dense smoke from the old fire-place, and
prepared their little supper. As soon as it was upon the table, they
awoke Manuel, and invited him to join in their humble fare. The poor
fellow arose, and looking around the gloomy, cavern-like place, heaved a
deep sigh. "It's hard to be brought to this for nothing!" said he; "and
my bones are so sore that I can scarcely move. I must see the Captain
and consul."

"That won't do any good; you might as well keep quiet and drink your
coffee. A prisoner that says the least in this jail is best off,"
returned Redman.

Manuel took his bowl of coffee and a piece of bread, eating it with a
good appetite, and asking what time they got breakfast. "It's the first
time I was abused in a foreign country. I'm Portuguese, but a citizen of
Great Britain, and got my protection.-When it won't save me, I'll never
come to South Carolina again, nor sail where a flag won't protect me.
When I go among Patagonians, I know what they do; but when I sail
to United States or be cast away on them, I don't know what they do,
because I expect good people." * * *

"Never mind, my good fellow," said Redman; "cheer up, take it as a good
sailor would a storm, and in the morning you'll get a small loaf of sour
bread and a bucket of water for breakfast, if you go to the pump for it.
Be careful to moderate your appetite when you breakfast according to the
State's rules; for you must save enough to last you during the day, and
if you can keep "banyan day," as the Bluenose calls it, you're just the
man for this institution, and no mistake. Come, I see you're hungry;
drink another bowl of coffee, and eat plenty of bread; then you'll be
all right for another good sleep."

"Yes, but I don't expect to be in here long. But tell me, do we get
nothing more than a loaf? didn't the jail give us this supper?" he
inquired with surprise.

"Supper, indeed!--it's against the rules for prisoners to have coffee;
that's our private fixings; but you'll get a pound of bloody neck-bone,
they call beef, in the morning. I have twice thrown mine to the dog,
but he doesn't seem to thank me for it; so I told the cook he needn't
trouble his steelyards for me again."

Redman's conversation was interrupted by a noise that seemed to be a
ring of the prison bell, and an anxious expression which Manuel gave
utterance to, indicated that he expected somebody would come to see him.
He was not disappointed, for a few minutes after, the bolts were heard
to withdraw and the heavy door swung back. There, true to his charge,
was little Tommy, in his nicest blue rig, tipped off a la man-o'-war
touch, with his palmetto-braid hat,--a long black ribbon displayed over
the rim,--his hair combed so slick, and his little round face and red
cheeks so plump and full of the sailor-boy pertness, with his blue,
braided shirt-collar laid over his jacket, and set off around the neck,
with a black India handkerchief, secured at the throat with the joint
of a shark's backbone. He looked the very picture and pattern of a
Simon-Pure salt. He had wended his way through strange streets and
lanes, with a big haversack under his arm, which Daley had relieved
him of at the door, and brought into the room under his arm. As soon as
Manuel caught a glimpse of him, he rose and clasped the little fellow
in his arms with a fond embrace. No greeting could be more affecting.
Manuel exulted at seeing his little companion; but Tommy looked grieved,
and asked, "But what has scarred your face so, Manuel? You didn't look
that way when you left the brig. We have had a site o' folks down to see
us to-day."

"Oh, that's nothing!--just a little fall I got; don't tell the Captain:
it'll all be well to-morrow."

"Here, Jack, take your knapsack; did yer bring ever a drop o' liquor for
the steward?" said Daley, addressing himself to Tommy, and putting the
package upon the floor.

"Yes, Manuel!" said Tommy, "the Captain sent you some nice bread and
ham, some oranges and raisins, and a bottle of nice claret,--for he was
told by the consul that they didn't give 'em nothing to eat at the
jail. And I had a tug with 'em, I tell you. I got lost once, and got a
good-natured black boy to pilot me for a Victoria threepence,--but he
did not like to carry the bundle to the jail, for fear of his master.
Captain 'll be up first thing in the morning, if he can get away from
business," said the little tar, opening the haversack and pulling out
its contents to tempt the hungry appetites of those around him.

Daley very coolly took the bottle of claret by the neck, and holding it
between himself and the light, took a lunar squint at it, as if doubting
its contents; and then, putting it down, exclaimed, "Ah! the divil a red
I'd give you for your claret. Sure, why didn't ye bring a token of
good old hardware?" "Hardware! what is hardware?" inquired Manuel. "Ah!
botheration to the bunch of yees--a drap of old whiskey, that 'd make
the delight cum f'nent. Have ye ne'er a drap among the whole o' yees?"
Receiving an answer in the negative, he turned about with a Kilkenny,
"It don't signify," and toddled for the door, which he left open, to
await Tommy's return. Redman knew Daley's propensity too well, and
having ocular proof that he had wet t'other eye until it required
more than ordinary effort to make either one stay open, he declined
recognising his very significant hint.

As soon as Daley withdrew, Manuel invited his companions to partake of
the Captain's present, which they did with general satisfaction.




CHAPTER XV. THE LAW'S INTRICACY.



WHILE the scenes we have described in the foregoing chapter were being
performed, several very interesting ones were going through the course
of performance at the consul's office and other places, which we must
describe. The British Government, in its instructions to Mr. Mathew,
impressed upon him the necessity of being very cautious lest he should
in any manner prejudice the interests of the local institutions within
his consular jurisdiction; to make no requests that were incompatible
with the local laws; but to pursue a judicious course in bringing the
matter of Her Majesty's subjects properly to the consideration of
the legal authorities, and to point to the true grievance; and as it
involved a question of right affecting the interests and liberties of
her citizens, to ask the exercise of that judicial power from which it
had a right to expect justice. The main object was to test the question
whether this peculiar construction given to that local law which
prohibits free <DW52> men from coming within the limits of the State,
was legal in its application to those who come into its ports connected
with the shipping interests, pursuing an honest vocation, and intending
to leave whenever their ship was ready. The consul was censured by the
press in several of the slaveholding States, because he dared to bring
the matter before the local legislature. We are bound to say that Consul
Mathew, knowing the predominant prejudices of the Carolinians, acted
wisely in so doing. First, he knew the tenacious value they put upon
courtesy; secondly, the point at issue between South Carolina and the
Federal Government, (and, as a learned friend in Georgia once said,
"Whether South Carolina belonged to the United States, or the United
States to South Carolina;") and thirdly, the right of State sovereignty,
which South Carolina held to be of the first importance. To disregard
the first, would have been considered an insult to the feelings of
her people; and if the question had first been mooted with the Federal
Government, the ire of South Carolinians would have been fired; the
slur in placing her in a secondary position would have sounded the
war-trumpet of Abolition encroachments, while the latter would have been
considered a breach of confidence, and an unwarrantable disregard of her
assertion of State rights. The Executive transmitted the documents to
the Assembly, that body referred them to special committees, and the
Messrs. Mazyck and McCready, reported as everybody in South Carolina
expected, virtually giving the British consul a very significant
invitation to keep his petitions in his pocket for the future, and his
"black lambs" out of the State, or it might disturb their domesticated
ideas. Thus was the right clearly reserved to themselves, and the
question settled, so far as the State Legislature was concerned. The
next course for Mr. Mathew was to appeal to the Judiciary, and should
redress be denied, make it the medium of bringing the matter, before the
Federal courts.

We cannot forbear to say, that the strenuous opposition waged against
this appeal of common humanity arose from political influence, supported
by a set of ultra partisans, whose theoretical restrictions, assisted
by the voice of the press, catered to the war-spirit of the
abstractionists.

The British consul, as the representative of his government, knowing the
personal suffering to which the subjects of his country were subjected
by the wretched state of the Charleston prison, and its management,
sought to remove no restriction that might be necessary for protecting
their dangerous institutions, but to relieve that suffering. He had
pointed the authorities to the wretched state of the prison, and the
inhuman regimen which existed within it; but, whether through that
superlative carelessness which has become so materialized in the spirit
of society--that callousness to misfortune so strongly manifested by the
rich toward the industrious poor and the slaves-or, a contempt for
his opinions, because he had followed out the instructions of his
government, things went on in the same neglected manner and no attention
was paid to them.

Now, we dare assert that a large, portion of the excitement which the
question has caused has arisen from personal suffering, consequent upon
that wretched state of jail provisions which exists in South Carolina,
and which, to say the least, is degrading to the spirit and character of
a proud people. If a plea could be made, for excuse, upon the shattered
finances of the State, we might tolerate something of the abuse. But
this is not the case; and when its privileges become reposed in men who
make suffering the means to serve their own interests, its existence
becomes an outrage.

A stronger evidence of the cause of these remonstrances on the part
of the British Government, is shown by the manner in which it has been
submitted to in Georgia. The British consul of the port of Savannah, a
gentleman whose intelligence and humane feelings are no less remarkable
than Mr. Mathew's, has never had occasion to call the attention of
the Executive of Georgia to the abuse of power consequent upon the
imprisonment of  seamen belonging to the ships of Great Britain
in that port. The seaman was imprisoned, consequently deprived of his
liberty; but there was no suffering attendant beyond the loss of liberty
during the stay of the vessel; for the imprisonment itself was a nominal
thing; the imprisoned was well cared for; he had good, comfortable
apartments, cleanly and well ordered, away from the criminals, and
plenty of good, wholesome food to eat. There was even a satisfaction in
this, for the man got what he paid for, and was treated as if he were
really a human being. Thus, with the exception of the restriction on the
man's liberty, and that evil, which those interested in commerce would
reflect upon as a tax upon the marine interests of the port to support a
municipal police, because it imposes a tax and burdensome annoyance upon
owners for that which they have no interest in and can derive no benefit
from, the observance of the law had more penalty in mental anxiety than
bodily suffering. We have sometimes been at a loss to account for the
restriction, even as it existed in Georgia, and especially when
we consider the character of those controlling and developing the
enterprising commercial affairs of Savannah.

But we must return to South Carolina. If we view this law as a police
regulation, it only gives us broader latitude. If a community has that
within itself which is dangerous to its well-being, it becomes pertinent
to inquire whether there is not an imperfect state of society existing,
and whether this policy is not injurious to the well-being of the State.
The evil, though it be a mortifying fact, we are bound to say, arises
from a strange notion of caste and color, which measures sympathy
according to complexion. There is no proof that can possibly be adduced,
showing that  seamen have made any infections among the slaves,
or sought to increase the dangers of her peculiar institution.




CHAPTER XVI. PLEA OF JUST CONSIDERATION AND MISTAKEN CONSTANCY OF THE
LAWS.



THE consul's office opened at nine o'clock,--the Captain, with his
register-case and shipping papers under his arm, presented himself to
Mr. Mathew, handed him his papers, and reported his condition. That
gentleman immediately set about rendering every facility to relieve his
immediate wants and further his business. The consul was a man of plain,
unassuming manners, frank in his expressions, and strongly imbued with
a sense of his rights, and the faith of his Government,--willing to take
an active part in obtaining justice, and, a deadly opponent to wrong,
regardless of the active hostility that surrounded him. After relating
the incidents of his voyage, and the circumstances connected with
Manuel's being dragged to prison,--"Can it be possible that the law is
to be carried to such an extreme?" said he, giving vent to his feelings.

"Your people seem to have a strange manner of exhibiting their
hospitality," said the Captain, in reply.

"That is true; but it will not do to appeal to the officials." Thus
saying, the consul prepared the certificate, and putting on his hat,
repaired to the jail. Here he questioned Manuel upon the circumstances
of his arrest, his birthplace, and several other things. "I am not sure
that I can get you out, Manuel, but I will do my best; the circumstances
of your being driven in here in distress will warrant some consideration
in your case; yet the feeling is not favorable, and we cannot expect
much."

From thence he proceeded to the office of Mr. Grimshaw, where he met
that functionary, seated in all the dignity of his office.

"Good morning, Mr. Consul. Another of your <DW54>s in my place, this
morning," said Mr. Grimshaw.

"Yes; it is upon that business I have called to see you. I think you
could not have considered the condition of this man, nor his rights,
or you would not have imprisoned him. Is there no way by which I can
relieve him?" inquired the consul, expecting little at his hands, but
venturing the effort.

"Sir! I never do any thing inconsistent with my office. The law gives
me power in these cases, and I exercise it according to my judgment. It
makes no exceptions for shipwrecks, and I feel that you have no right to
question me in the premises. It's contrary to law to bring <DW65>s here;
and if you can show that he is a white man, there's the law; but you
must await its process."

"But do you not make exceptions?" inquired the consul. "I do not wish
to seek his relief by process of law; that would increase expense and
delay. I have made the request as a favor; if you cannot consider it in
that light, I can only say my expectations are disappointed. But how is
it that the man was abused by your officers before he was committed?"

"Those are things I've nothing to do with; they are between the officers
and your <DW65>s. If they are stubborn, the officers must use force,
and we have a right to iron the whole of them. Your <DW65>s give more
trouble than our own, and are a set of unruly fellows. We give 'em
advantages which they don't deserve, in allowing them the yard at
certain hours of the day. You Englishmen are never satisfied with any
thing we do," returned Mr. Grimshaw, with indifference, appearing to
satisfy himself that the law gave him the right to do what he pleased in
the premises. There seemed but one idea in his head, so far as <DW65>s
were concerned, nor could any mode of reasoning arouse him: to a
consideration of any extenuating circumstances. A <DW65> was a <DW65>
with him, whether white or black-a creature for hog, homony, and
servitude.

"I expected little and got nothing. I might have anticipated it, knowing
the fees you make by imprisonment. I shall seek relief for the man
through a higher tribunal, and I shall seek redress for the repeated
abuses inflicted upon these men by your officers," said the consul,
turning to the door.

"You can do that, sir," said Mr. Grimshaw; "but you must remember that
it will require white evidence to substantiate the charge. We don't take
the testimony of your <DW65>s."

Just as the consul left the office, he met Colonel S--entering. The
colonel always manifested a readiness to relieve the many cases of
oppression and persecution arising from bad laws and abused official
duty. He had called upon Mr. Grimshaw on the morning of the arrest, and
received from him an assurance that the case would be considered, the
most favorable construction given to it, and every thing done for
the man that was in his power. Notwithstanding this to show how far
confidence could be put in such assurances, we have only to inform the
reader that he had despatched the officers an hour previously.

The colonel knew his man, and felt no hesitation at speaking his mind.
Stepping up to him, "Mr. Grimshaw," said he, "how do you reconcile
your statement and assurances to me this morning with your subsequent
conduct?"

"That's my business. I act for the State, and not for you. Are you
counsel for these <DW65>s, that you are so anxious to set them at
liberty among our slaves? You seem to have more interest in it than that
interfering consul. Just let these Yankee <DW65>s and British <DW65>s
out to-night, and we'd have another insurrection before morning; it's
better to prevent than cure," said Grimshaw.

"The only insurrection would have been in your heart, for the loss of
fees. If you did not intend what you said, why did you deceive me with
such statements? I know the feelings of our people, as well as I do
yours for caging people within that jail. Upon that, I intimated to the
Captain what I thought would be the probable result, and this morning I
proceeded to his vessel to reassure him, upon your statement. Imagine my
mortification when he informed me that his steward had been dragged
off to jail early in the morning, and that those two ruffians whom you
disgrace the community with, behaved in the most outrageous manner. It
is in your power to relieve this man, and I ask it as a favor, and on
behalf of what I know to be the feelings of the citizens of Charleston."

"Your request, colonel," said Mr. Grimshaw, with a little more
complacency, "is too much in the shape of a demand. There's no
discretion left me by the State, and if you have a power superior to
that, you better pay the expenses of the <DW65>, and take the management
into your own hands. I never allow this trifling philanthropy about
<DW65>s to disturb me. I could never follow out the laws of the State
and practise it; and you better not burden yourself with it, or your
successors may suffer for adequate means to support themselves. Now,
sir, take my advice. It's contrary to law for them <DW65>s to come
here; you know our laws cannot be violated. South Carolina has a great
interest at stake in maintaining the reputation of her laws. Don't
excite the <DW65>'s anxiety, and he'll be better off in jail than he
would running about among the wenches. He won't have luxuries, but we'll
make him comfortable, and he must suit his habits to our way of living.
We must not set a bad example before our own <DW65>s; the whiter they
are the worse they are. They struggle for their existence now, and think
they're above observing our <DW65> laws. We want to get rid of them, and
you know it," returned Grimshaw.

"Yes; I know it too well, for I have had too many cases to protect them
from being 'run off' and sold in the New Orleans market. But when you
speak of white <DW65>s, I suppose you mean our brightest; I dispute your
assertion, and point you to my proof in the many men of wealth among
them now pursuing their occupations in our city. Can you set an example
more praiseworthy? And notwithstanding they are imposed upon by taxes,
and many of our whites take the advantage of law to withhold the payment
of debts contracted with them, they make no complaint. They are subject
to the same law that restricts the blackest slave. Where is the white
man that would not have yielded under such inequality? No! Mr. Grimshaw,
I am as true a Southerner-born and bred-as you are; but I have the
interests of these men at heart, because I know they are with us, and
their interests and feelings are identical with our own. They are Native
Americans by birth and blood, and we have no right to dispossess them
by law of what we have given them by blood. We destroy their feelings by
despoiling them of their rights, and by it we weaken our own cause. Give
them the same rights and privileges that we extend to that miserable
class of foreigners who are spreading pestilence and death over our
social institutions, and we would have nothing to fear from them, but
rather find them our strongest protectors. I want to see a law taking
from that class of men the power to lord it over and abuse them."

A friend, who has resided several years in Charleston, strong in his
feelings of Southern rights, and whose keen observation could not fail
to detect the working of different phases of the slave institution,
informed us that he had conversed with a great many very intelligent
and enterprising men belonging to that large class of "bright" men in
Charleston, and that which appeared to pain them most was the manner
they were treated by foreigners of the lowest class; that rights which
they had inherited by birth and blood were taken away from them; that,
being subjected to the same law which governed the most abject slave,
every construction of it went to degrade them, while it gave supreme
power to the most degraded white to impose upon them, and exercise his
vindictive feelings toward them; that no consideration being given to
circumstances, the least deviation from the police regulations made to
govern <DW64>s, was taken advantage of by the petty guardmen, who either
extorted a fee to release them, or dragged them to the police-office,
where their oath was nothing, even if supported by testimony of their
own color; but the guardman's word was taken as positive proof. Thus the
laws of South Carolina forced them to be what their feelings revolted
at. And I want to see another making it a penal offence for those men
holding slaves for breeding purposes. Another, which humanity calls
for louder than any other, is one to regulate their food, punish
these grievous cases of starvation, and make the offender suffer for
withholding proper rations.

"Well-pretty well!" said Grimshaw, snapping his fingers very
significantly. "You seem to enjoy the independence of your own opinion,
colonel. Just prove this <DW65>'s a white, and I'll give you a release
for him, after paying the fees. You better move to Massachusetts, and
preach that doctrine to William Lloyd Garrison and Abby Kelly."

"Give me none of your impudence, or your low insults. You may protect
yourself from personal danger by your own consciousness that you are
beneath the laws of honor; but that will not save you from what you
deserve, if you repeat your language. Our moderation is our protection,
while such unwise restrictions as you would enforce, fan the flame of
danger to our own households," said the colonel, evidently yielding
to his impulses; while Mr. Grimshaw sat trembling, and began to make a
slender apology, saying that the language was forced upon him, because
the colonel had overstepped the bounds of propriety in his demands.

"I'm somewhat astonished at your demand, colonel, for you don't seem
to comprehend the law, and the imperative manner in which I'm bound
to carry it out. Shipowners should get white stewards, if they want to
avoid all this difficulty. I know the nature of the case, but we can't
be accountable for storms, shipwrecks, old vessels, and all these
things. I'll go and see the fellow to-morrow, and tell the jailer-he's
a pattern of kindness, and that's why I got him for jailer-to give him
good rations and keep his room clean," said Grimshaw, getting up and
looking among some old books that lay on a dusty shelf. At length he
found the one, and drawing it forth, commenced brushing the dust from it
with a dust-brush, and turning his tobacco-quid. After brushing the
old book for a length of time, he gave it a scientific wipe with his
coat-sleeve, again sat down, and commenced turning over its pages.

"It's in here, somewhere," said he, wetting his finger and thumb at
every turn.

"What's in there, pray? You don't think I've practised at the Charleston
bar all my life without knowing a law which has called up so many
questions?" inquired the colonel.

"Why, the act and the amendments. I believe this is the right one. I
a'n't practised so long, that I reckon I've lost the run of the appendix
and everything else," adding another stream of tobacco-spit to the
puddle on the floor.

"That's better thought than said. Perhaps you'd better get a schoolboy
to keep his finger on it," continued the colonel, laconically.

"Well, well; but I must find it and refresh your memory. Ah! here it is,
and it's just as binding on me as it can be. There's no mistake about
it-it's genuine South Carolina, perfectly aboveboard." Thus saying,
he commenced reading to the colonel as if he was about to instruct
a schoolboy in his rudiments. "Here it is-a very pretty specimen of
enlightened legislation-born in the lap of freedom, cradled in a land of
universal rights, and enforced by the strong arm of South Carolina."

"An Act for the better regulation and government of free <DW64>s and
persons of color, and for other purposes," &c. &c. &c., Mr. Grimshaw
read; but as the two first sections are really a disgrace to the
delegated powers of man, in their aim to oppress the man of color,
we prefer to pass to the third section, and follow Mr. Grimshaw as he
reads:--

"That if any vessel shall come into any port or harbor of this State,
(South Carolina,) from any other State or foreign port, having on board
any free <DW64>s or persons of color, as cooks, stewards, or mariners,
or in any other employment on board said vessel, such free <DW64>s or
persons of color shall be liable to be seized and confined in jail until
said vessel shall clear out and depart from this State; and that when
said vessel is ready to sail, the captain of said vessel shall be
bound to carry away the said free <DW64> or person of color, and pay the
expenses of detention; and in case of his refusal or neglect to do so,
he shall be liable to be indicted, and, on conviction thereof, shall be
fined in a sum not less than one thousand dollars, and imprisoned not
less than two months; and such free <DW64>s or persons of color shall
be deemed and taken as absolute slaves, and sold in conformity to the
provisions of the act passed on the twentieth day of December, one
thousand eight hundred and twenty aforesaid.'"

Mr. Grimshaw's coolness in the matter became so intolerable, that the
colonel could stand it no longer; so, getting up while Mr. Grimshaw was
reading the law, he left the office, perfectly satisfied that further
endeavors at that source would be fruitless.

After Mr. Grimshaw had concluded, he looked up, perfectly amazed to find
that he was enjoying the reading of the act to himself. "Had I not given
it all the consideration of my power, and seen the correctness of the
law, I should not have given so much importance to my opinion. But there
it is, all in that section of the Act, and they can't find no convention
in the world to control the Legislature of South Carolina. There's my
principles, and all the Englishmen and Abolitionists in Christendom
wouldn't change me. Now, I've the power, and let 'em get the <DW65> out
of my place, if they can," said Grimshaw, shutting the book, kicking
a good-sized, peaceable-looking dog that lay under the table, and
deliberately taking his hat and walking into the street.

Here is an Act, bearing on its face the arrogant will of South Carolina,
setting aside all constitutional rights, and denying the validity of
stipulations made by the United States in her general commercial laws.
She asserts her right to disregard citizenship, to make criminals of
<DW52> men, because they are , and to sell them for slaves to
pay the expenses which she had incurred to make them such. And what is
still worse, is, that the exercise of this misconceived and unjust law
is so unrelentingly enforced, and so abused by those who carry it out.

During this time the consul had been unremitting in his endeavors to
procure the man's release. The mayor had no power in the premises; the
attorney-general was not positive in regard to the extent of his power
in such a case, though he admitted the case to be an aggravated one; the
judges could only recognise him as a <DW65>, consequently must govern
their proceedings by legislative acts. Upon the whole, he found that
he was wasting his time, for while they all talked sympathy, they
acted tyranny. Cold, measured words about <DW65>s, "contrary to law,"
constitutional rights, inviolable laws, State sovereignty and secession,
the necessary police regulations to protect a peculiar institution,
and their right to enforce them, everywhere greeted his ears. There was
about as much in it to relieve Manuel, as there would have been had a
little bird perched upon the prison-wall and warbled its song of love to
him while strongly secured in his cell-more tantalizing because he could
hear the notes, but not see the songster.

Notwithstanding the commendable energy of the consul, he had the
satisfaction of knowing that several very improbable reports touching
his course, and construing it into an interference with the institution
of slavery, had been widely circulated, and were creating a feeling
against him among a certain class of "fire-eating" secessionists. He was
too well aware of the source from which they originated to awaken any
fears, and instead of daunting his energy they only increased it, and
brought to his aid the valuable services of the Hon. James L. Petigru, a
gentleman of whom it is said, (notwithstanding his eminence at the
bar,) that had it not been for his purity of character, his opinions
in opposition to the State would have long since consigned him to a
traitor's exile. The truth was-and much against Mr. Petigru's popularity
in his own State-that he was a man of sound logic, practical judgment,
and legal discrimination. Thus endowed with the requisite qualities of
a good statesman, and pursuing a true course to create a conservative
influence in the State, he failed to become popular beyond his legal
sphere. Had he espoused that most popular of all doctrines in South
Carolina-nullification and secession-and carried abstraction to
distraction, James L. Petigru would have added another "Roman name" to
that which has already passed from South Carolina's field of action.

The consul did his duty, but effected nothing; and such was the
opposition manifested by the officials who were interested in the spoils
of law, and politicians who could not see any thing important beyond
secession, that there was no prospect of it. And, as the last resort,
he appealed to the Judiciary through the "habeas corpus," the result of
which we shall show in a subsequent chapter.




CHAPTER XVII. LITTLE GEORGE, THE CAPTAIN, AND MR. GRIMSHAW.



THE consul had returned to his office rather discomfited at not being
able to relieve Manuel, yet satisfied that he had placed matters in
their proper light before the public. The Captain reported and left his
manifest at the custom-house, after entering his protest and making the
necessary arrangements for survey, &c. &c. And Colonel S--became so well
satisfied of the affectation of law protectors, and that his services
in behalf of humanity were like straws contending against a foaming
current, that, acknowledging his regrets to the Captain, he preferred to
make up in attention what he could not do for Manuel through the law.

Little George paid his respects to the Janson between ten and eleven
o'clock, duly dressed. "Mr. Mate, where's your skipper?" he inquired,
with an air of consequence that put an extra pucker on his little
twisting mouth.

"Gone to jail, or to see Doctor Jones, I expect, not giving ye an ill
answer," replied the old mate, gruffly.

"Perhaps you don't know who I am, sir. Your answer's not polite. You
must remember, sir, you're in South Carolina, the sunny city of the
South," said the little secessionist.

"I al'a's make my answer to suit myself. I study hard work and honesty,
but never was known to carry a grammar in my pocket. But, my taut
friend, I should know'd I was in South Carolina if you hadn't said a
word about it, for no other nation under the sky would a dragged a poor
cast-away sailor to prison because he had the misfortune to have a tawny
hide. It's a ten-to-one, my hearty, if you don't find the skipper in
jail, and all the rest of us, before we leave. I'm lookin' now to see
some body-grabber coming down with a pair of handcuffs," continued the
mate.

"What! do you mean to insult me again, Mr. Mate? Explain yourself! I'm
not accustomed to this ironical talk!"

"Well, it's something like your laws. They dragged our steward off
to jail this morning, without judge or jury, and with about as much
ceremony as a Smithfield policeman would a pickpocket."

"What! you don't say. Well, I was afraid of that. Our officers are
mighty quick, but I'd hoped differently. But, sir, give my compliments
to the Captain. Tell him I'll make the matter all right; my influence,
sir, and my father's--he is one of the first men in the city--tells
mightily here. I have promised my services to the Captain, and I'll see
him through. Just pledging my word to Grimshaw will be enough to satisfy
the judicial requisites of the law," said George, switching his little
cane on his trowsers.

"My good fellow," said the mate, "if you can get our steward out a
limbo, you'll be doing us all a good turn, and we'll remember you as
long as we pull a brace."

"You may reckon on me, Mister Mate; and if I a'n't down before six
o'clock, my father will certainly take the matter in hand; and he and
Mazyck belong to the secession party, and control things just as they
please at Columbia." So saying, George bid the old mate good morning,
and bent his course for the head of the wharf.

"There," said the old mate, "it's just what I thought all along; I knew
my presentiment would come true. I'll wager a crown they treat Manuel
like a dog in that old prison, and don't get him out until he is
mildewed; or perhaps they'll sell him for a slave a'cos he's got curly
black hair and a yellow skin. Now I'm a hardy sailor, but I've sailed
around the world about three times, and know something of nature. Now ye
may note it as clear as the north star, prisons in slave countries a'n't
fit for dogs. They may tell about their fine, fat, slick, saucy <DW65>s,
but a slave's a slave--his master's property, a piece of merchandise,
his chattel, or his football-thankful for what his master may please to
give him, and inured to suffer the want of what he withholds. Yes,
he must have his thinking stopped by law, and his back lashed at his
master's will, if he don't toe the mark in work. Men's habits and
associations form their feelings and character, and it's just so with
them fellers; they've become so accustomed to looking upon a <DW65> as
a mere tool of labor--lordin' it over him, starving him, and lashing
him-that they associate the exercise of the same feelings and actions
with every thing connected with labor, without paying any respect to a
poor white man's feelings," continued the mate, addressing himself to
his second, as they sat upon the companion, waiting for the Captain to
come on board and give further orders.

Never were words spoken with more truth. The <DW64> is reduced to the
lowest and worst restrictions, even by those who are considered wealthy
planters and good masters. We say nothing of those whose abuse of their
<DW64>s by starvation and punishment forms the theme of complaint among
slaveholders themselves. His food is not only the coarsest that can, be
procured, but inadequate to support the system for the amount of labor
required. Recourse to other means becomes necessary. This is supplied by
giving the slave his task, which, so far as our observation extends, is
quite sufficient for any common, laborer's day's-work. This done, his
master is served; and as an act of kindness, (which <DW71> is taught to
appreciate as such,) he is allowed to work on his own little cultivated
patch to raise a few things, which mass'r (in many cases) very
condescendingly sells in the market, and returns those little comforts,
which are so much appreciated by slaves on a plantation-tea, molasses,
coffee, and tobacco-and now and then a little wet of whiskey. This is
the allowance of a good man doing a good week's work, and getting two
pounds of bacon and a peck of corn as his compensation. But, in grateful
consideration, his good master allows him to work nights and Sundays to
maintain himself. In this way was "Bob's bale of cotton" raised, which
that anxious child of popular favor, the editor of the "Savannah Morning
News," so struggled to herald to the world as something magnificent on
the part of the Southern slave-masters. At best, it was but a speck. If
the many extra hours of toil that poor Bob had spent, and the hours
of night that he had watched and nursed his plants, were taken into
account, there would be a dark picture connected with "Bob's bale of
cotton," which the editor forgot to disclose.

Every form of labor becomes so associated with servitude, that we may
excuse the Southerner for those feelings which condemn those devoted
to mechanical pursuits as beneath his caste and dignity. Arrogance and
idleness foster extravagance, while his pride induces him to keep up a
style of life which his means are inadequate to support. This induces
him to subsist his slaves on the coarsest fare, and becoming hampered,
embarrassed, and fretted in his fast-decaying circumstances, his slaves,
one by one, suffer the penalty of his extravagance, and finally he
himself is reduced to such a condition that he is unable to do justice
to himself or his children any longer; his slaves are dragged from him,
sold to the terrors of a distant sugar-plantation, and he turned out of
doors a miserable man.

We see this result every day in South Carolina; we hear the comments
in the broadways and public places, while the attorney and bailiff's
offices and notices tell the sad tale of poverty's wasting struggle.

George, in passing from the wharf into the bay, met the Captain, who was
shaping his course for the brig. He immediately ran up to him, and shook
his hands with an appearance of friendship. "Captain, I'm right sorry
to hear about your <DW65>. I was not prepared for such a decision on the
part of Mr. Grimshaw, but I'm determined to have him out," said he.

"Well!" said the Captain, "I'm sorry to say, I find things very
different from what I anticipated. My steward is imprisoned, for
nothing, except that he is a Portuguese, and everybody insists that he's
a <DW65>. Everybody talks very fine, yet nobody can do any thing; and
every thing is left to the will of one man."

"Why, Captain, we've the best system in the world for doing business;
you'd appreciate it after you understood it! Just come with me, and let
me introduce you to my father. If he don't put you right, I'll stand
convicted," said little George.

Accepting the invitation, they walked back to the "old man's"
counting-room. George had given the Captain such an extended account of
his father's business and estates, that the latter had made up his
mind to be introduced to an "India Palace' counting-room. Judge of
his surprise, then, when George led the way into an old, dirty-looking
counting-room, very small and dingy, containing two dilapidated high
desks, standing against the wall. They were made of pitch pine, painted
and grained, but so scarred and whittled as to have the appearance
of long use and abuse. In one corner was an old-fashioned low desk,
provided with an ink-stand, sundry pieces of blotting-paper, the
pigeon-holes filled with loose invoices, letters, and bills of lading,
very promiscuously huddled together; while hanging suspended on a
large nail, driven in the side, and exposed to view, was an enormous
dust-brush. A venerable-looking subject of some foreign country stood
writing at one desk, a little boy at the other, and George's veritable
"old man" at the low desk. Here and there around the floor were baskets
and papers containing samples of sea-island and upland cotton. George
introduced the Captain to his father with the suavity of a courtier. He
was a grave-looking man, well dressed, and spoke in a tone that at once
enlisted respect. Unlike George, he was a tall, well-formed man, with
bland, yet marked features, and very gray hair. He received the Captain
in a cold, yet dignified manner-inquired about his voyage, and who
he had consigned to, and what steps he had taken to proceed with
his business,--all of which the Captain answered according to the
circumstances.

"What! then you have consigned already, have you?" said little George,
with surprise.

"Oh yes," returned the Captain, "I have left my business in the hands
of the consul, and shall follow his directions. It's according to my
sailing orders. But there's so much difficulty, I shouldn't wonder if I
had to leave the port, yet!"

"Not so, Captain; I'll take care of that!" said George, giving his
father a statement of the Captain's trouble about Manuel's imprisonment,
and begging that he would bestow his influence in behalf of his
friend the Captain. Although George coupled his request with a seeming
sincerity, it was evident that he felt somewhat disappointed at the
consignment. The old gentleman looked very wise upon the subject, lifted
his gold-framed spectacles upon his forehead, gratified his olfactory
nerves with a pinch of snuff, and then said in a cold, measured tone,
"Well, if he's a <DW65>, I see no alternative,--the circumstances may
give a coloring of severity to the law; but my opinion has always been,
that the construction of the law was right; and the act being
founded upon necessity, I see no reason why we should meddle with its
prerogative. I think the interference of the consul unwarrantable, and
pressed upon mere technical grounds. These stories about the bad state
of our jail, and the sufferings of criminals confined in it, arise, I
must think, from the reports of bad prisoners. I have never been in it.
Our people are opposed to vice, and seldom visit such a place; but the
sheriff tells me it is comfortable enough for anybody. If this be so,
and I have no reason to doubt his word, we can exercise our sympathy and
kindness for his shipwrecked circumstances, and make him as comfortable
there as we could anywhere else. There are many different opinions, I
admit, touching the effect of this law; but I'm among those who support
stringent measures for better protection. His color can form no excuse,
Captain, so long as there is symptoms of the <DW64> about him. We
might open a wide field for metaphysical investigation, if we admitted
exceptions upon grades of complexion; for many of our own slaves are
as white ar the brightest woman. Consequently, when we shut the gates
entirely, we save ourselves boundless perplexity. Nor would it be safe
to grant an issue upon the score of intelligence, for experience has
taught us that the most intelligent 'bright fellows' are the worst
scamps in creating discontent among the slaves. I only speak of these
things, Captain, in a general sense. Your man may be very good, noble,
generous, and intelligent; and, more than all, not inclined to meddle
with our peculiar institution,--but it would be a false principle
to make him an exception, setting an example that would be entirely
incompatible with our greatest interests. So far as my word will affect
the sheriff, and enlist his better feelings in making him comfortable, I
will use it," said the 'old man,' again adjusting his specs.

Little George seemed dumbfounded with mortification, and the Captain
felt as though he would give a guinea to be on board his brig. It was no
use for him to enter into the extenuating circumstance of his voyage, or
the character of the man, Manuel. The same cold opinions about the
law, and the faith and importance of South Carolina and her peculiar
institutions, met his ears wherever he went. The Captain arose, took
his hat, and bidding the old gentleman good morning, again left for his
brig.

"Don't be worried about it-I'll do what I can for you," said the old
man, as the Captain was leaving. George followed him into the street,
and made a great many apologies for his father's opinions and seeming
indifference, promising to do himself what his father did not seem
inclined to undertake. The Captain saw no more of him during his stay in
Charleston, and if his influence was exerted in Manuel's behalf, he did
not feel its benefits.

Business had so occupied the Captain's attention during the day, that
he had no time to visit Manuel at the jail; and when he returned to the
vessel, a message awaited him from the British consul. One of the seamen
had been detailed to fill Manuel's place, who, with his dinner all
prepared, reminded the Captain that it was awaiting him. He sat down,
took dinner, and left to answer the consul's call. Arriving at the
office, he found the consul had left for his hotel, and would not return
until four o'clock. As he passed the post-office, a knot of men stood
in front of it, apparantly in anxious discussion. Feeling that their
conversation might be interesting to him, or have some connection with
his case, he walked slowly back, and as he approached them, observed
that the conversation had become more excited. The principals were Mr.
Grimshaw, and a factor on the bay, deeply interested in shipping.

"A man acting in your capacity," said the factor, "should never make use
of such expressions-never give encouragement to mob law. It's not only
disgraceful to any city, but ruinous to its interests. Officials never
should set or encourage the example. Want of order is already in the
ascendant, and if the populace is to be led on to riot by the officials,
what check have we? God save us from the direful effects!"

"Well, perhaps I went too far," said Mr. Grimshaw, "for I think as much
of the name of our fair city as you do. But we ought to teach him that
he can't pursue this open, bold, and daring course, endangering our
institutions, because he's consul for Great Britain. I would, at all
events, treat him as we did the Yankee HOAR from Massachusetts, and let
the invitation be given outside of official character, to save the name;
then, if he did not move off, I'd go for serving him as they did the
Spanish consul, in New Orleans. These English <DW65>s and Yankee <DW65>s
are fast destroying the peace of Charleston."

"You would, would you?" said another. "Then you would incite the fury
of an ungovernable mob to endanger the man's life for carrying out the
instructions of his government."

"That don't begin to be all that he does, for he's meddling with every
thing, and continually making remarks about our society," said Grimshaw,
evidently intending to create ill feeling against the consul, and to
make the matter as bad as possible.

"Now, Mr. Grimshaw," said the factor, "you know your jail is not fit to
put any kind of human beings into, much less respectable men. It's
an old Revolutionary concern, tumbling down with decay, swarming with
insects and vermin; the rooms are damp and unhealthy, and without means
to ventilate them; the mildew and horrible stench is enough to strike
disease into the strongest constitution; and you aggravate men's
appetites with food that's both insufficient and unwholesome, I know,
because I visited a friend who was put in there on 'mesne process.'"

"There is little confidence to be placed in the stories of prisoners;
they all think they must be treated like princes, instead of considering
that they are put there for cause, and that a jail was intended for
punishment," interrupted Grimshaw, anxious to change the subject of
conversation, and displaying an habitual coldness to misfortune which
never can see the gentleman in a prisoner.

"Yes, but you must not measure men by that standard. Circumstances which
bring them there are as different as their natures. I've known many
good, honest, and respectable, citizens, who once enjoyed affluence in
our community, put in there, month after month, and year after year,
suffering the persecution of creditors and the effects of bad laws. Now
these men would not all complain if there was no cause, and they all
loved you, as you state. But tell me, Mr. Grimshaw, would it not be even
safer for our institutions to make a restriction confining them to the
wharf, which could be easily done, and with but small expense to the
city? <DW65>s on the wharves could have no communication with them,
because each is occupied in his business, and ours are too closely
watched and driven during working hours. As soon as those hours end,
they are bound to leave, and the danger ends. Again, those <DW65>s who
work on the wharves are generally good <DW65>s, while, on the other
hand, bad <DW65>s are put into jail; and during the hours these stewards
are allowed the privilege of the yard, they mix with them without
discrimination or restraint. Their feelings, naturally excited by
imprisonment, find relief in discoursing upon their wrongs with those of
their own color, and making the contamination greater," said the factor,
who seemed inclined to view the matter in its proper light.

"Oh! what sir? That would never do. You mistake a <DW65>'s feelings
entirely. Privileges never create respect with them. Just make a law to
leave 'em upon the wharf, and five hundred policemen wouldn't keep 'em
from spoiling every <DW65> in town, just destroying the sovereignty of
the law, and yielding a supreme right that we have always contended
for. It's 'contrary to law,' and we must carry out the law," replied
Grimshaw.

"Pshaw! Talk such stuff to me! Just take away the sixteen hundred or
two thousand dollars that you make by the law; and you'd curse it for
a nuisance. It would become obsolete, and the poor devils of stewards
would do what they pleased; you'd never trouble your head about
them. Now, Grimshaw, be honest for once; tell us what you would do if
circumstances compelled the Captain to leave that <DW65> boy here?"

"Carry out the letter of the law; there's no alternative. But the
Captain swears he's a white man, and that would give him an opportunity
to prove it."

"How is he to prove it, Grimshaw? We take away the power, and then ask
him to do what we make impossible. Then, of course, you would carry out
the letter of the law and sell him for a slave. * * * Well, I should
like to see the issue upon a question of that kind carried out upon an
English <DW65>. It would be more of a curse upon our slave institution
than every thing else that could be raised," said the factor.

"Gentlemen, you might as well preach abolition at once, and then the
public would know what your sentiments were, and how to guard against
you. I must bid you good-by." So saying, Mr. Grimshaw twisted his
whip, took a large quid of tobacco, and left the company to discuss the
question among themselves.




CHAPTER XVIII. LITTLE TOMMY AND THE POLICE.



WE must take the reader back to the old jail, and continue our scene
from where we left little Tommy spreading the Captain's present before
the imprisoned stewards, whose grateful thanks were showered upon the
head of the bestower. Kindness, be it ever so small, to a man in prison,
is like the golden rays of the rising sun lighting up the opening day.
They all partook of the refreshments provided for them with grateful
spirits.

It was near ten o'clock when Daley came to announce that it was time to
close the prison, and all strangers must withdraw. Tommy had insisted
upon stopping with Manuel during the night.

This man Daley was a proverbial drunkard, a tyrant in the exercise of
his "little brief authority," and a notorious--. Singular as it may
seem, considering his position, he would quarrel with the men for a
glass of whiskey, had given the jailer more trouble than any other man,
and been several times confined in the cells for his incorrigible vices.
If any thing more was wanting to confirm our note, we could refer to
Colonel Condy, the very gentlemanly United States marshal in a very rude
manner, told him it was against the rules, and putting his hand to
his back, pushed him out of the cell and secured the bolts. The little
fellow felt his way through the passage and down the stairs in the dark
until he reached the corridor, where the jailer stood awaiting to
let him pass the outer iron-gate. "You've made a long stay, my little
fellow. You'll have a heap o' trouble to find the wharf, at this time o'
night. I'd o' let you stopped all night, but it's strictly against the
sheriff's orders," said the jailer, as, he passed into the street, at
the same time giving him a list of imperfect directions about the course
to proceed.

The jail is in a distant and obscure part of the city, surrounded by
narrow streets and lanes, imperfectly laid out and undefined. In leaving
the walls of the prison, he mistook his direction, and the night being
very dark, with a light, drizzling rain, which commenced while he was in
the prison, the whole aspect of things seemed reversed. After travelling
about for some time, he found himself upon a narrow strip of land that
crossed a basin of water and led to Chisholm's mill. The different
appearance of things here convinced him of his error. Bewildered,
and not knowing which way to proceed, he approached a cross road, and
sitting down upon a log, wept bitterly. He soon heard a footstep, and as
it approached, his cares lightened. It proved to be a <DW64> man from the
mill.

These mills are worked all night, and the poor <DW64>s, wishing to
follow an example which massa sets on a grand scale, save that they
have an excuse in the fatigue of labor, will delegate some shrewd one of
their number to proceed to a Dutch "corner-shop" in the suburbs, run the
gauntlet of the police, and get a bottle of whiskey, When interrogated,
they are always "going for a bottle of molasses." They keep a keen watch
for the police, and their cunning modes of eluding their vigilance forms
many amusing anecdotes. They are bound to have a pass from master, or
some white man; but if they can reach the shop in safety, the Dutchman
will always furnish them with one to return. It not unfrequently happens
that the guard-men are much more ignorant than the slaves. The latter
knowing this, will endeavor to find their station and approach by it,
taking with them either an old pass or a forged one, which the
guard-man makes a wonderful piece of importance about examining and
countersigning, though he can neither read nor write. Thus <DW71> passes
on to get his molasses, laughing in his sleeve to think how he "fool
ignorant buckra." A change of guard often forms a trap for <DW71>, when
he is lugged to the guard-house, kept all night, his master informed in
the morning, and requested to step up and pay a fine, or <DW71>'s
back catches thirty-nine, thus noting a depression of value upon the
property. Sometimes his master pays the municipal fine, and administers
a domestic castigation less lacerating bound into the city on the usual
errand of procuring a little of molasses. When he first discovered
Tommy, he started back a few paces, as if in fear; but on being told by
Tommy that he was lost, and wanted to find his way to the wharves, he
approached and recovering, confidence readily, volunteered to see him to
the corner of Broad street. So, taking him by the hand, they proceeded
together until they reached the termination of the Causeway, and were
about to enter Tradd street, when suddenly a guard-man sprang from
behind an old shed. The <DW64>, recognising his white belt and tap-stick,
made the best of his time, and set off at full speed down a narrow lane.
The watchman proceeded close at his heels, springing his rattle at every
step, and pouring out a volley of vile imprecations. Tommy stood for a
few moments, but soon the cries of the <DW64> and the beating of clubs
broke upon his ear; he became terrified, and ran at the top of his speed
in an opposite direction. Again he had lost his way, and seemed in a
worse dilemma than before; he was weary and frightened, and hearing so
many stories among the sailors about selling white children for slaves,
and knowing the imprisonment of Manuel, which he did not comprehend,
his feelings were excited to the highest degree. After running for a few
minutes, he stopped to see if he could recognize his position. The first
thing that caught his eye was the old jail, looming its sombre walls in
the gloomy contrast of night. He followed the walls until he reached the
main gate, and then, taking an opposite direction from his former route,
proceeded along the street until he came to a lantern, shedding its
feeble light upon the murky objects at the corner of a narrow lane.
Here he stood for several minutes, not knowing which way to proceed: the
street he was in continued but a few steps farther, and turn which ever
way he would, darkness and obstacles rose to impede his progress. At
length he turned down the lane, and proceeded until he came to another
junction of streets; taking one which he thought would lead him in the
right direction, he wandered through it and into a narrow, circuitous
street, full of little, wretched-looking houses. A light glimmered from
one of them, and he saw a female passing to and fro before the window.
He approached and rapped gently upon the door. Almost simultaneously
the light was extinguished. He stood for a few minutes, and again rapped
louder than before; all was silent for some minutes. A drenching shower
had commenced, adding to the already gloomy picture; and the rustling
leaves on a tree that stood near gave an ominous sound to the excited
feelings of the child. He listened at the door with anxiety and fear, as
he heard whispers within; and as he was about to repeat his rapping,
a window on the right hand was slowly raised. The female who had been
pacing the floor protruded her head with a caution that bespoke alarm.
Her long, black hair hanging about her shoulders, and her tawny, Indian
countenance, with her ghost-like figure dressed in a white habiliment,
struck him with a sort of terror that wellnigh made him run.

"Who is that, at this time of night?" inquired the woman, in a low
voice.

"It's only me. I'm lost, and can't find my way to our vessel," said
Tommy, in a half-crying tone.

"Mother," said the woman, shutting the window, "it's only a little
sailor-boy, a stranger, and he's wet through."

She immediately unbarred and opened the door, and invited him to come
in. Stepping beyond the threshold, she closed the door against the
storm, and placing a chair at the fire, told him to sit down and
warm himself. They were mulatto half-breeds, retaining all the
Indian features which that remnant of the tribe now in Charleston
are distinguished by a family well known in the city, yet under the
strictest surveillance of the police. Every thing around the little room
denoted poverty and neatness. The withered remnant of an aged Indian
mother lay stretched upon a bed of sickness, and the daughter, about
nineteen years old, had been watching over her, and administering those
comforts, which her condition required. "Why, mother, it's a'most twelve
o'clock. I don't believe he'll come to-night."

She awaited her friend, or rather he whose mistress she had condescended
to be, after passing from several lords. The history of this female
remnant of beautiful Indian girls now left in Charleston, is a mournful
one. The recollection of their noble sires, when contrasted with their
present unhappy associations, affords a sad subject for reflection and
"this little boy can stop till morning in our room up-stairs," said she,
looking up at an old Connecticut clock that adorned the mantel-piece.

"Oh! I could not stay all night. The mate would be uneasy about me, and
might send the crew to look for me. I'm just as thankful, but I couldn't
stop," said Tommy.

"But you never can find the bay on such a night as this; and I've no
pass, or I would show you into Broad street, and then you could find the
way. I am afraid of the guardmen, and if they caught me and took me to
the station, my friend would abuse me awfully," said Angeline, for
such was her name; and she laid her hand upon his arm to feel his wet
clothes.

He now arose from the chair, and putting on his hat, she followed him to
the door and directed him how to proceed to find Broad street.

He proceeded according to her directions, and soon found it. Now, he
thought, he was all right; but the wind had increased to a gale, and
having a full sweep through the street, it was as much as he could do to
resist it. He had scarcely reached half the distance of the street when
it came in such sudden gusts that he was forced to seek a refuge against
its fury in the recess of a door. He sat down upon a step, and buttoning
his little jacket around him, rested his head upon his knees, and
while waiting for the storm to abate, fell into a deep sleep. From this
situation he was suddenly aroused by a guardman, who seized him by the
collar, and giving him an unmerciful twitch, brought, him headlong upon
the sidewalk.

"What are you at here? Ah! another miserable vagrant, I suppose. We'll
take care of such rascals as you; come with me. We'll larn ye to be
round stealing at this time o' night."

"No, sir! no, sir! I didn't do nothing"--

"Shut up! None of your lyin' to a policeman, you young rascal. I don't
want to hear, nor I won't stand your infernal lies."

"Oh do, mister, let me tell you all about it, and I know you won't hurt
me. I'm only going to the vessel, if you'll show me the way," said the
little fellow imploringly.

"Stop yer noise, ye lying young thief, you. Ye wouldn't be prowling
about at this time o' night if ye belonged to a vessel. 'Pon me soul,
I believe yer a <DW65>. Come to the light," said the guardman, dragging
him up to a lamp near by. "Well, you a'n't a <DW65>, I reckon, but yer a
strolling vagrant, and that's worse," he continued, after examining his
face very minutely. So, dragging him to the guardhouse as he would a
dog, and thrusting him into a sort of barrack-room, the captain of the
guard and several officials soon gathered around him to inquire the
difficulty. The officers listened to the guardman's story, with perfect
confidence in every thing he said, but refused to allow the little
fellow to reply in his own behalf. "I watched him for a long time, saw
him fumbling about people's doors, and then go to sleep in Mr. T--'s
recess. These boys are gettin' to be the very mischief-most dangerous
fellows we have to deal with," said the policeman.

"Oh, no! I was only goin' to the brig, and got turned round. I've been
more than two hours trying to find my way in the storm. I'm sure I a'n't
done no harm. If ye'll only let me tell my story," said Tommy.

"Shut up! We want no stories till morning. The mayor will settle your
hash to-morrow; and if you belong to a ship, you can tell him all about
it; but you'll have the costs to pay anyhow. Just lay down upon that
bench, and you can sleep there till morning; that's better than
loafing about the streets," said the captain of the guard, a large,
portly-looking man, as he pointed Tommy to a long bench similar to those
used in barrack-rooms.

The little fellow saw it was no use to attempt a hearing, and going
quietly to the bench, he pulled off his man-a-war hat, and laying it
upon a chair, stretched himself out upon it, putting his little hands
under his head to ease it from the hard boards.

But he was not destined to sleep long in this position, for a loud,
groaning noise at the door, broke upon their ears though the pelting
fury of the storm, like one in agonizing distress.

"Heavens! what is that!" said the captain of the guard, suddenly
starting from his seat, and running for the door, followed by the
whole posse. The groans grew louder and more death-like in their
sound, accompanied by strange voices, giving utterance to horrible
imprecations, and a dragging upon the floor. The large door opened, and
what a sight presented itself! Three huge monsters, with side-arms on,
dragged in the poor <DW64> who proffered to show Tommy into Broad street.
His clothes were nearly torn from his back, besmeared with mud, from
head to foot, and his face cut and mangled in the most shocking manner.
His head, neck, and shoulders, were covered with a gore of blood, and
still it kept oozing from his mouth and the cuts on his head. They
dragged him in as if he was a dying dog that had been beaten with a
club, and threw him into a corner, upon the floor, with just about as
much unconcern.

"Oh! massa! massa! kill me, massa, den 'em stop sufferin'!" said the
poor fellow, in a painful murmur, raising his shackled hands to his
head, and grasping the heavy chain that secured his neck, in the agony
of pain.

"What has he done?" inquired the officer.

"Resisted the guard, and ran when we told him to stop!" responded a trio
of voices. "Yes, and attempted to get into a house. Ah! you vagabond
you; that's the way we serve <DW65>s like you!--Attempt to run again,
will you? I'll knock your infernal daylights out, you <DW65> you," said
one of the party.

"It does seem tome that you might have taken him, and brought him up
with less severity," said the officer.

"What else could we do, sure? Didn't we catch him prowling about with
a white fellow, and he runn'd till we couldn't get him. Indeed it was
nothing good they were after, and it's the like o' them that bees doing
all the mischief beyant the city."

"An' 'imself, too, struck Muldown two pokes, 'efore he lave de hancuffs
be pat upon him, at all!" said another of the guardmen; and then turning
around, caught a glimpse of poor little Tommy, who had been standing up
near a desk, during the scene, nearly "frightened out of his wits."

"By the pipers,--what! and is't here ye are? The same that was with
himself beyant! Come here, you spalpeen you. Wasn't ye the same what
runn'd whin we bees spaken to that <DW65>?" said the same guardman,
taking hold of Tommy's arm, and drawing him nearer the light.

"Yes, he was coming along with me, to show me"--

"Stop!--you know you are going to lie already. Better lock 'em both up
for the night, and let them be sent up in the morning," said another.

"Then you won't let me speak for myself--"

"Hush, sir!" interrupted the officer; "you can tell your story in the
morning! but take care you are not a vagrant. If it's proved that
you were with that <DW65> at the improper hour, you'll get your back
scarred. Come, you have owned it, and I must lock you up."

Without attempting to wash the blood off the <DW64>, or dress his wounds,
they unlocked the handcuffs, and loosened the chain from his neck,
handling him with less feeling than they would a dumb brute. Relieved of
his chains, they ordered him to get up.

The poor creature looked up imploringly, as if to beg them to spare his
life, for he was too weak to speak. He held up his hands, drenched with
blood, while beneath his head was a pool of gore that had streamed from
his mounds. "None of your infernal humbuggery-you could run fast enough.
Just get up, and be spry about it, or I'll help you with the cowhide,"
said the officer, calling to one of the guardmen to bring it to him. He
now made an effort, and had got upon his knees, when the guardman that
seemed foremost in his brutality fetched him a kick with his heavy boots
in the side, that again felled him to the ground with a deep groan.

"Oh-tut! that will not do. You mus'n't kill the <DW65>; his master will
come for him in the morning," said the officer, stooping down and taking
hold of his arm with his left hand, while holding a cowhide in his
right. "Come, my boy, you must get up and go into the lock-up," he
continued.

"Massa! oh, good massa, do-don't! I's most dead now, wha'for ye no
lef me whare a be?" said he in a whining manner; and making a second
attempt, fell back upon the floor, at which two of them seized him by
the shoulders, and dragging him into a long, dark, cell-like room, threw
him violently upon the floor. Then returning to the room, the officer
took Tommy by the arm, and marching him into the same room, shut the
door to smother his cries. The little fellow was so frightened, that he
burst into an excitement of tears. The room was dark, and as gloomy as
a cavern. He could neither lie down, sleep, nor console himself. He
thought of Manuel, only to envy his lot, and would gladly have shared
his imprisonment, to be relieved from such a horrible situation. Morning
was to bring, perhaps, worse terrors. He thought of the happy scenes
of his rustic home in Dunakade, and his poor parents, but nothing could
relieve the anguish of his feelings. And then, how could he get word to
his Captain? If they were so cruel to him now, he could not expect them
to be less so in the morning. In this manner, he sat down upon the floor
with the poor <DW64>, and, if he could do nothing more, sympathized with
his feelings. The poor <DW64> murmured and groaned in a manner that would
have enlisted the feelings of a Patagonian; and in this way he continued
until about three o'clock in the morning, when his moaning became so
loud and pitiful, that the officer of the guard came to the door with an
attendant, and unbolting it, entered with a lantern in his hand. He held
the light toward his face, and inquired what he was making such a noise
about? "Oh! good massa, good massa, do send for docta; ma head got a
pile o' cuts on him," said he, putting his hand to his head. The officer
passed the lantern to his attendant, and after putting a pair of gloves
on his hands, began to feel his head, turn aside his torn clothes, and
wipe the dirt from the places where the blood seemed to be clotted.
"Good gracious! I didn't conjecture that you were cut so bad. Here, my
good fellow, (addressing himself to Tommy,) hold the lantern. Michael,
go get a pail of water, and some cloths," said he, very suddenly
becoming awakened to the real condition of the man, after he had
exhibited a coldness that bordered on brutality.

Water and cloths were soon brought. The attendant, Michael, commenced
to strip his clothes off, but the poor fellow was so sore that he
screeched, in the greatest agony, every time he attempted to touch him.
"Be easy," said the officer, "he's hurt pretty badly. He must a' been
mighty refractory, or they'd never beaten him in this manner," he
continued, opening a roll of adhesive plaster, and cutting it into
strips. After washing, him with water and whiskey, they dressed
his wounds with the plaster, and bound his head with an old silk
handkerchief which they found in his pocket, after which they left the
light burning and retired.

After they retired, Tommy inquired of the <DW64> how they came to keep
him so long, before they brought him to the guard-house? It proved, that
as soon as they came up with him, the first one knocked him down with a
club; and they all at once commenced beating him with their bludgeons,
and continued until they had satisfied their mad fury. And while he lay
groaning in the streets, they left one of their number in charge, while
the others proceeded to get handcuffs and chains, in which they bound
him, and dragged him, as it were, the distance of four squares to the
guard-house. What a sublime picture for the meditations of a people who
boast of their bravery and generosity!




CHAPTER XIX. THE NEXT MORNING, AND THE MAYOR'S VERDICT.



SHORTLY after daylight, Tommy fell into a dozing sleep, from which he
was awakened by the mustering of the prisoners who had been brought up
during the night, and were to appear before the mayor at nine o'clock.
A few minutes before eight o'clock, an officer opened the cell-door, and
they were ordered to march out into a long room. In this room they found
all the prisoners gathered. There were three blacks and five whites,
who had been arrested on different charges; and as the mayor's court was
merely a tribunal of commitment-not judgment-if the charges upon which
the prisoners were brought up were sustained-which they generally were,
because the policeman who made the arrest was the important witness,
they were committed to await the tardy process of the law.

Considerable uneasiness had been felt on board of the Janson for Tommy,
and the Captain suggested that he might have got astray among the dark
lanes of the city, and that the mate had better send some of the crew
to look for him. The mate, better acquainted with Tommy's feelings and
attachment for Manuel than he was with the rules of the prison and Mr.
Grimshaw's arbitrary orders, assured the Captain that such a course
would be entirely unnecessary, for he knew when he left that he would
stop all night with Manuel. This quieted the Captain's apprehensions,
and he said no more about it until he sat down to breakfast. "I miss
Tommy amazingly," said the Captain. "If he stopped all night, he should
be here by this time. I think some one had better be sent to the jail
to inquire for him." Just as he arose from the table, one of the crew
announced at the companion that a person on deck wished to see the
Captain. On going up, he found a policeman, who informed him that a
little boy had been arrested as a vagrant in the street, last night, and
when brought before the mayor a few minutes ago, stated that he belonged
to his vessel, and the mayor had despatched him to notify the master.
"Circumstances are suspicious; he was seen in company with a <DW64> of
very bad habits; but if you can identify the boy, you had better come
quick, or he'll be sent to jail, and you'll have some trouble to get him
out," said the messenger, giving the Captain a description of the boy.

"Oh yes!" said the Captain, "that's my Tommy. I verily believe they'll
have us all in jail before we get away from the port." Numerous
appointments engrossed his time, and he had promised to meet the consul
at an early hour that morning. Notwithstanding this, he gave a few
orders to the mate about getting the hatches ready and receiving
the port-wardens, and then immediately repaired to the all-important
guard-house. He was just in time to receive the mortifying intelligence
that the mayor's court had concluded its sitting, and to see little
Tommy, with a pair of handcuffs on his hand, in the act of being
committed to jail by a Dutch constable. He stopped the constable, and
being told that his honor was yet in the room, put a couple of dollars
into his hand to await his intercession. Another fortunate circumstance
favored him; just as he stopped the constable, he saw his friend,
Colonel S--, approaching. The colonel saw there was trouble, and with
his usual, characteristic kindness, hastened up and volunteered his
services.

We must now return to the arraignment, as it proceeded after the
messenger had been despatched.

The <DW64> confined with Tommy presented a wretched picture when brought
into the light room among the other prisoners. His head was so swollen
that no trace of feature was left in his face. Cuts and gashes were
marked with plaster all over his neck and face; his head tied up with
an old red handkerchief; his eyes, what could be seen of them, more like
balls of blood than organs of sight; while the whiskey and water with
which his head had been washed, had mixed with the blood upon his
clothes, and only served to make its appearance more disgusting.
Altogether, a more pitiful object never was presented to human sight.

Some minutes before the clock struck nine, an intelligent-looking
gentleman, very well dressed, and portly in his appearance, entered
the room. He was evidently kindly disposed, but one of those men whose
feelings prompt them to get through business with despatch, rather
than inquire into the circumstances of aggravated cases. He held a
consultation with the officer for some minutes with reference to the
prisoners. After which he mounted a little tribune, and addressing a
few words to the white prisoners, (a person who acted the part of clerk
announced court by rapping upon a desk with a little mallet,) inquired
whether the officers had notified the owners of the <DW64>s. Being
informed that they had, he proceeded with the <DW64>s first. One, by
some good fortune, was taken away by his master, who paid the usual
fee to swell the city treasury; another was sentenced to receive twenty
paddles on the frame at the workhouse; and the third, the man we have
described, being brought forward, weak with the loss of blood, leaned
his hand upon the back of a chair. "Stand up straight!" said the
officer, in a commanding tone.

"Now, my boy, this is twice you have been before this court. Your master
has left you to the mercy of the law, and given strict orders to the
police in the event that you were caught a third time. Your crime is
worse now, for you were caught in company with that white boy-probably
on some errand of villany, prowling about the streets after drum-beat.
I shall, in consideration of the facts here stated by the police, whose
evidence I am bound to recognise, sentence you to nineteen paddles on
the frame, and to be committed to jail, in accordance with your master's
orders, there to await his further directions.

"Arraign the white prisoners according to the roll, Mr.--. Have you sent
a message to the Captain about that boy?" inquired the mayor.

"No, yer honor; but I will send at once," said the officer, stepping
into the passage and calling an attendant.

The little fellow was arraigned first. He stood up before the mayor
while the ruffianly policeman who arrested him preferred the charges
and swore to them, adding as much to give coloring as possible. "Now, my
man, let me hear what you have got to say for yourself. I have sent for
your captain," said the mayor, looking as if he really felt pity for the
little fellow.

He commenced to tell his simple story, but soon became so convulsed with
tears that he could proceed no further. "I only went to the jail to see
Manuel, the steward, and I got lost, and begged the black man to show me
the way"--said he, sobbing.

"Well, I have heard enough," said the mayor, interrupting him. "You
could not have been at the jail at that time o' night-impossible. It
was after hours-contrary to rules-and only makes the matter worse for
yourself. You can stand aside, and if the Captain comes before court
is through, we will see further; if not, you must be committed as a
vagrant. I'm afraid of you young strollers."

The officer of the guard, as if the poor boy's feelings were not already
sufficiently harassed, took him by the arm, and pushing him into a
corner, said, "There, you young scamp, sit down. You'll get your deserts
when you get to the jail."

He sat down, but could not restrain his feelings. The presence of the
Captain was his only hope. He saw the prisoners arraigned one by one,
and join him as they were ordered for committal. He was handcuffed like
the rest, and delivered to the constable. The reader can imagine the
smile of gladness that welcomed the Captain's timely appearance. The
latter's exhibition of feeling, and the simple exclamation of the
child's joy, formed a striking picture of that fondness which a loving
child manifests when meeting its parents after a long absence.

"Take the irons off that child," said the colonel to the constable. "A
man like you should not put such symbols of ignominy upon a youth like
that."

"I would do any thing to oblige you, colonel; but I cannot without
orders from the mayor," returned the man, very civilly.

"I'll see that you do, very quick," rejoined the colonel, impatiently;
and taking the little fellow by the arm in a compassionate manner, led
him back into the presence of the mayor, followed by the Captain.

"I want to know what you are committing this lad for," said the colonel,
setting his hat upon the table, while his face flushed with indignation.

"Vagrancy, and caught prowling about the streets with a <DW64> at
midnight. That is the charge, colonel," replied the mayor, with
particular condescension and suavity.

"Was there any proof adduced to substantiate that fact?"

"None but the policeman's; you know we are bound to take that as prima
facie."

"Then it was entirely ex parte. But you know the character of these
policemen, and the many aggravated circumstances that have arisen from
their false testimony. I wish to cast no disrespect, your honor; but
really they will swear to any thing for a fee, while their unscrupulous
bribery has become so glaring, that it is a disgrace to our police
system. Have you heard the boy's story?" said the colonel.

"Well, he began to tell a crooked story, so full of admissions, and then
made such a blubbering about it, that I couldn't make head or tail of
it."

"Well, here is the Captain of his vessel, a friend of mine, whom I
esteem a gentleman-for all captains ought to be gentlemen, not excepting
Georgia captains and majors," said the colonel, jocosely, turning round
and introducing the Captain to his honor. "Now, your honor, you will
indulge me by listening to the little fellow's story, which will be
corroborated in its material points by the statements of the Captain,
which, I trust, will be sufficient; if not, we shall recur to the
jailer."

"It will be sufficient. I am only sorry there has been so much trouble
about it," said the mayor.

The boy now commenced to tell his story, which the mayor listened
to with all learned attention. No sooner had Tommy finished, and the
Captain arose to confirm his statements, than the mayor declared himself
satisfied, apologized for the trouble it had caused, and discharged the
boy upon paying the costs, the amount of which the colonel took from his
pocket and threw upon the table. Thus was Tommy's joy complete; not
so the poor <DW64> whose ill luck he shared. This high-sounding mayor's
court was like Caesar's court, with the exceptions in Caesar's favor.




CHAPTER XX. EMEUTE AMONG THE STEWARDS.



SEVERAL days had passed ere we again introduce the reader to the cell of
the imprisoned stewards. The captain of the Janson had been assured by
Mr. Grimshaw that every thing was comfortable at the jail, and Manuel
would be well cared for. Confiding in this, the activity of the consul
to bring the matter before the proper authorities-and the manner
in which his own time was engrossed with his business-left him no
opportunity to visit Manuel at the jail. Tommy and one of the sailors
had carried him his hammock, and a few things from the ship's stores;
and with this exception, they had but little to eat for several days.
Copeland had but a few days more to remain, and, together with those who
were with him, had exhausted their means, in providing from day to
day, during their imprisonment. The poor woman who did their washing,
a generous-hearted mulatto, had brought them many things, for which she
asked no compensation. Her name was Jane Bee, and when the rules of the
jail made every man his own washerwoman, she frequently washed for those
who had nothing to pay her. But her means were small, and she worked
hard for a small pittance, and had nothing to bring them for several
days. They were forced to take the allowance of bread, but could not
muster resolution to eat the sickly meat.

Those who had suffered from it before, took it as a natural consequence,
looking to the time of their release, as if it was to bring a happy
change in their lives. But Manuel felt that it was an unprecedented
outrage upon his feelings, and was determined to remonstrate against
it. He knocked loudly at the door, and some of the prisoners hearing it,
reported to the jailer, who sent Daley to answer it. As soon as the door
was opened, he rushed past, and succeeded in gaining the iron door that
opened into the vestibule, where he could converse with the Jailer,
through the grating, before Daley could stop him.

The jailer seeing him at the grating, anticipated his complaint. "Well,
Pereira,--what's the matter up-stairs?" said he.

"For God's sake, jailer, what am I put in here for-to starve? We cannot
eat the meat you send us, and we have had little else than bread and
water for three days. Do give us something to eat, and charge it to
consul, or Captain, an' I'll pay it from my wages when I get out, if I
ever do," said he.

"My dear fellow!" said the jailer, "no one knows your case better than
I do; but I am poor, and the restrictions which I am under allow me
no privileges. You had all better take your meat in the morning-if you
won't take soup-and try to cook it, or get Jane to do it for you. I
will give you some coffee and bread from my own table, to-night, and you
better say as little about it as possible, for if Grimshaw hears it, he
may lock you up."

"Do, I shall be very thankful, for we are really suffering from hunger,
in our cell, and I pay you when I get money from Captain," said Manuel,
manifesting his thankfulness at the jailer's kindness.

"I will send it up in a few minutes, but you needn't trouble yourself
about pay-I wouldn't accept it!" said the jailer; and as good as his
word, he sent them up a nice bowl of coffee for each, and some bread,
butter, and cheese. They partook of the humble fare, with many thanks to
the donor. Having despatched it, they seated themselves upon the
floor, around the faint glimmer of a tin lamp, while Copeland read
the twentieth and twenty-first chapters of the Acts of the Apostles.
Copeland was a pious <DW64>, and his behaviour during his imprisonment
enlisted the respect of every one in jail. Singular as the taste may
seem, he had his corner in the cell decorated with little framed
prints. Among them we noticed one of the crucifixion, and another of the
Madonna. After reading the chapters, they retired to their hard beds.
About nine o'clock the next morning, Daley came to the door with a piece
of neck meat, so tainted and bloody that its smell and looks more than
satisfied the stomach.

"Here it is, boys," said he; "yer four pound, but ye's better take soup,
cos ye'll niver cook that bone, anyhow."

"Do you think we're like dogs, to eat such filth as that? No! I'd rather
starve!" said Manuel.

"Indeed, an' ye'll larn to ate any thing win ye'd be here a month. But
be dad, if ye don't watch number one about here, ye's won't get much
nohow," replied Daley, dropping the bloody neck upon the floor, and
walking out.

"Better take it," said Copeland. "There's no choice, and hunger don't
stand for dainties, especially in this jail, where everybody is famished
for punishment. If we don't eat it, we can give it to some of the poor
prisoners up-stairs."

"While I have good ship-owners, and a good Captain, I never will eat
such stuff as that; oh! no," returned Manuel.

The meat was laid in a corner for the benefit of the flies; and when
dinner time arrived, the same hard extreme arrived with it-bread and
water. And nobody seemed to have any anxieties on their behalf; for two
of them had written notes to their Captains, on the day previous, but
they remained in the office for want of a messenger to carry them.
Fortunately, Jane called upon them in the afternoon, and brought a nice
dish of rice and another of homony.

We will here insert a letter we received from a very worthy friend, who,
though he had done much for the Charleston people, and been repaid
in persecutions, was thrown into jail for a paltry debt by a ruthless
creditor. Cleared by a jury of twelve men, he was held in confinement
through the wretched imperfection of South Carolina law, to await nearly
twelve months for the sitting of the "Appeal Court," more to appease the
vindictiveness of his enemies than to satisfy justice, for it was well
understood that he did not owe the debt. His letter speaks for itself.
Charleston Jail, March 31, '52.

MY DEAR FRIEND,--I could not account for your absence during the last
few days, until this morning, when Mr. F***** called upon me for a few
moments, and from him I learnt that you had been quite unwell. If you
are about to-morrow, do call upon me; for a more dreary place, or one
where less regard is paid to the calls of humanity, cannot be found
among the nations of the earth.

Such is the ordinary condition of suffering within this establishment,
that men, and even women, are forced to all kinds of extremes to
sustain life; and, to speak what experience has taught me, crime is more
increased than reduced by this wretched system. There seems to be little
distinction among the prisoners, and no means to observe it, except in
what is called Mount Rascal on the third story. Pilfering is so common,
that you cannot leave your room without locking your door. The jailer
is a good, kind-hearted old man, very often giving from his own table to
relieve the wants of debtors, many of whom repay him with ingratitude. I
have suffered many privations from shipwreck and cold, but never until
I came to South Carolina was I compelled to endure imprisonment and
subsist several days upon bread and water.

Talk about chivalry and hospitality! How many men could join with me and
ask, "Where is it?" But why should I demur, when I see those abroad who
have been driven from this State to seek bread; when I hear the many
voices without tell of struggling to live, for want of system in
mechanical employment, and when I look upon several within these sombre
walls who are even worse than me. Here is a physician, with a wife
and large family, committed for a debt which he was unable to pay.
His father's name stands among the foremost of the State--a General of
distinction, who offered his life for her in time of war, and whose name
honors her triumphs, and has since graced the councils of state.

General Hammond, whose name occupies such a conspicuous place in the
military history of South Carolina. The father's enthusiasm for his
country's cause led him to sacrifice his all, and by it he entailed
misfortune upon his descendants. When I consider the case of Shannon,
whose eleven years and seven months' imprisonment for debt, as it
was called, but which eventually proved to be a question turning upon
technicalities of law, gave him, body and soul, to the vindictiveness of
a persecutor, whose unrelenting malignity was kept up during that long
space of time. It was merely a breach of limitation between merchants,
the rights of which should be governed by commercial custom. Shannon
had, amassed about twenty thousand dollars by hard industry; his health
was waning, and he resolved to retire with it to his native county.
The gem proved too glaring for the lynx eye of a "true Carolinian,"
who persuaded him to invest his money in cotton. Moved by flattering
inducements, he authorized a factor to purchase for him upon certain
restrictions, which, unfortunately for himself, were not drawn up with
regard to legal enforcement-one of those singular instruments between a
merchant and an inexperienced man which a professional quibbler can
take advantage of. Cotton was at the tip-top, and very soon Shannon
was presented with an account of purchase, and draft so far beyond his
limits, that he demurred, and rejected the purchase entirely; but some
plot should be laid to entrap him. The factor undertook the force
game, notified him that the cotton was held subject to his order, and
protested the draft for the appearance of straightforwardness. Cotton
shortly fell to the other extreme, the lot was "shoved up" for sale on
Shannon's account, Shannon was sued for the balance, held to bail, and
in default committed to prison. His confinement and endurance of it
would form a strange chapter in the history of imprisonment for debt.
Carrying his money with him, he closed the door of his cell, and neither
went out nor would allow any one but the priest to enter for more than
three years; and for eleven years and seven months he paced the room
upon a diagonal line from corner to corner, until he wore the first
flooring, of two-and-a-quarter-inch pine, entirely through.

I might go on and tell of many others, whose poverty was well known,
and yet suffered years of imprisonment for debt; but I find I have
digressed. I must relate an amusing affair which took place this morning
between Manuel Pereira, the steward of the English brig Janson, which
put into this port in distress, and the jailer. He is the man about whom
so much talk and little feeling has been enlisted--a fine, well-made,
generous-hearted Portuguese. He is olive-complexioned--as light as many
of the Carolinians--intelligent and obliging, and evidently unaccustomed
to such treatment as he receives here.

Manuel appeared before the jailer's office this morning with two junks
of disgusting-looking meat, the neck-bones, tainted and bloody, in each
hand. His Portuguese ire was up. "Mister Poulnot, what you call dis? In
South Carolina you feed man on him, ah? In my country, ah yes! we feed
him to dog. What you call him? May-be somethin' what me no know him. In
South Carolina, prison sailor when he shipwreck, starve him on nosin',
den tell him eat this, ah! I sails 'round ze world, but never savage man
gives me like zat to eat! No, I starve 'fore I eat him, be gar! Zar,
you take him," said he, throwing the pieces of meat upon the floor in
disdain.

"Meat! Yes, it's what's sent here for us. You mustn't grumble at me;
enter your complaints to the sheriff, when he comes," said the jailer,
with an expression of mortification on his countenance.

"Meat, ah! You call dat meat in South Carolina? I call him bull-neck,
not fit for dog in my country. I see, when Capitan come, vat he do,"
said Manuel, turning about and going to his room in a great excitement.

"You'd better be careful how you talk, or you may get locked up when the
sheriff comes."

It seems that the Captain had received a note from him, addressed by one
of the white prisoners on the same floor, and reached the jail just as
Manuel had ascended the stairs. He rang the bell and requested to see
Manuel.

"Manuel Pereira?" inquired the jailer.

"Yes," said the Captain, "he is my steward."

He heard the Captain's voice, and immediately returned to the lobby. The
tears ran down his cheeks as soon as he saw his old protector. "Well,
Manuel, I am glad to see you, but sorry that it is in imprisonment.
Tell me what is the matter. Don't they use you well here?" inquired the
Captain.

Stepping within the office door, he caught up the pieces of meat, and
bringing them out in his hands, held them up. "There, Capitan, that
no fit for man, is it?" said he. "Law send me prison, but law no give
not'ing to eat. What I do dat people treat me so? Ah, Capitan, bull
neck, by gar, yes-bull born in South Carolina, wid two neck. Ils sont
reduits l'extremit," said he, concluding with broken French.

"That cannot be; it's against the law to kill bulls in South Carolina,"
interrupted the jailer jocosely.

"Must be. I swear he bull-neck, 'cas he cum every day just like him.
Bull born wid one neck no cum so many. What I get for breakfast,
Capitan, ah?--piece bad bread. What I get for dinner, ah?--bull-neck.
Yes, what I get for supper, too?--piece bread and bucket o' water.
May-be he bad, may be he good, just so he come. You think I live on dat,
Capitan?" said he, in reply to the Captain's questions.

The Captain felt incensed at such treatment, and excused himself for not
calling before; yet he could not suppress a smile that stole upon his
countenance in consequence of Manuel's quaint earnestness.

"That is certainly strange fare for a human being; but the supper
seems rather a comical one. Did you drink the bucket of water, Manuel?"
inquired the Captain, retaining a sober face.

"Capitan, you know me too well for dat. I not ask 'em nozin' what he no
get, but I want my coffee for suppe'. I no eat him like zat," throwing
the putrid meat upon the floor again.

"Hi, hi! That won't do in this jail. You're dirtying up all my floor,"
said the jailer, calling a <DW64> boy and ordering him to carry the
bull-necks, as Manuel called them, into the kitchen.

"You call him dirt, ah, Miser Jailer? Capitan, just come my room; I
shown him," said Manuel, leading the way up-stairs, and the Captain
followed. A sight at the cell was enough, while the sickly stench forbid
him to enter beyond the threshold. He promised Manuel that he would
provide for him in future, and turning about suddenly, retreated into
the lower lobby.

"Jailer, what does all this mean? Do you allow men to starve in a land
of plenty, and to suffer in a cell like that?" asked the Captain in a
peremptory tone.

"I feel for the men, but you must enter your complaints to the
sheriff-the ration of the jail is entirely in his hands."

"But have you no voice in it, by which you can alleviate their
situation?"

"Not the least! My duty is to keep every thing-every thing to rights,
as far as people are committed. You will find the sheriff in his office,
any time between this and two o'clock," said the jailer. And the Captain
left as suddenly as he came.

You will think I have written you an essay, instead of a letter inviting
you to come and see me. Accept it for its intention, and excuse the
circumstances. Your obedient servant,




CHAPTER XXI. THE CAPTAIN'S INTERVIEW WITH MR. GRIMSHAW.



THE appearance of things at the jail was forlorn in the extreme.
The Captain knew the integrity of Manuel, and not only believed his
statement, but saw the positive proofs to confirm them. He repaired to
the sheriff's office, and inquiring for that functionary, was pointed to
Mr. Grimshaw, who sat in his large chair, with his feet upon the table,
puffing the fumes of a very fine-flavored Havana, as unconcerned as
if he was lord in sovereignty over every thing about the city. "I am
captain of the Janson, and have called to inquire about my steward?"
said the Captain.

"Ah! yes,--you have a <DW65> fellow in jail. Oh! by-the-by, that's the
one there was so much fuss about, isn't it?" said Mr. Grimshaw, looking
up.

"It is an imperative duty on me to seek the comfort of my officers
and crew," said the Captain. "I received a note from my steward, this
morning,--here it is, (handing him the note,) you can read it. He
requested me to call upon him at the jail, where I lost no time in
going, and found what he stated there to be too true. How is it! From
the great liberality of tone which everywhere met my ears when I first
arrived, I was led to believe that he would be made comfortable; and
that the mere confinement was the only feature of the law that was a
grievance. Now I find that to be the only tolerable part of it. When a
man has committed no crime, and is imprisoned to satisfy a caprice
of public feeling, it should be accompanied with the most favoring
attendants. To couple it with the most disgraceful abuses, as are shown
here, makes it exceedingly repugnant. If we pay for confining these men,
and for their living while they are confined, in God's name let us get
what we pay for!"

The reader will observe that Mr. Grimshaw was a man of coarse manners
and vulgar mind, with all their traces preserved on the outer man. He
looked up at the Captain with a presumptuous frown, and then said, "Why,
Mr. Captain, how you talk! But that kind o' talk won't do here in
South Carolina. That <DW65> o' yourn gives us a mighty site of trouble,
Captain. He doesn't seem to understand that he must be contented in
jail, and live as the other prisoners do. He gets what the law requires,
and if he gives us any further trouble, we shall lock him up in the
third story."

"You cannot expect him to be contented, when you furnish the means of
discontent. But I did not come here to argue with you, nor to ask any
thing as a favour, but as a right. My steward has been left to suffer!
Am I to pay for what he does not get? Or am I to pay you for the
pretence, and still be compelled to supply him on account of the owners?
You must excuse my feelings, for I have had enough to provoke them!"
returned the Captain.

"That business is entirely my own! He gets what the State allows, and I
provide. Your steward never wrote that note; it was dictated by some of
them miserable white prisoners. I can hear no complaints upon such cases
as them. If I were to listen to all these nonsensical complaints, it
would waste all my time. I wish the devil had all the <DW65> stewards
and their complaints; the jail's in a fuss with them all the time. I can
hear nothing further, sir-nothing further!" said Grimshaw emphatically,
interrupting the Captain as he attempted to speak; at which the Captain
became so deeply incensed, that he relieved his feelings in that sort of
plain English which a Scotchman can best bestow in telling a man what he
thinks of his character.

"You must remember, sir, you are in the office of the sheriff of the
county-parish, I mean,--and I am, sir, entitled to proper respect.
Begone!--avaunt! you have no right to come here and traduce my character
in that way. You musn't take me for a parish beadle," said Grimshaw,
contorting the unmeaning features of his visage, and letting fly a
stream of tobacco juice in his excitement.

"If you have no laws to give me justice, you have my opinion of your
wrongs," returned the Captain, and taking his hat, left the office with
the intention of returning to the jail. On reflection, he concluded
to call upon Colonel S--, which he did, and finding him in his office,
stated the circumstances to him.

"These things are the fruits of imbecility; but I am sorry to say there
is no relief from them. We are a curious people, and do a great many
curious things according to law, and leave a great many things undone
that the law and lawmakers ought to do. But I will go with you to the
jail, and whatever my influence will effect is at your service," said
the Colonel, putting on his hat, and accompanying the Captain to the
jail.

Mr. Grimshaw had forestalled them, and after having given the jailer
particular instructions to lock Manuel up if he made any further
complaint, and to carry out his orders upon the peril of his situation,
met them a few steps from the outer gate, on his return. "There,
Captain!" said Grimshaw, making a sort of halt, "I have given the jailer
particular orders in regard to your grumbling <DW65>!"

Neither the Captain nor Colonel S--took any notice of his remarks, and
passed on into the jail. Colonel S--interceded for the man, explaining
the circumstances which had unfortunately brought him there, and begged
the jailer's kind consideration in his behalf. The jailer told them what
his orders had been, but promised to do as far as was in his power, and
to see any thing that was sent to him safely delivered.

After leaving the jail, Colonel S--proposed a walk, and they proceeded
along a street running at right angles with the jail, until they came
to a corner where a large brick building was in process of erection.
The location was not in what might strictly be called "the heart of the
city," nor was it in the suburbs. Carpenters and masons, both black and
white, were busily employed in their avocations, and from the distance
all seemed fair and moving with despatch. As they approached nearer,
cries and moans sounded upon the air, and rose high above the clatter of
the artisans' work. The Captain quickened his pace, but the colonel,
as if from a consciousness of the effect, halted, and would fain have
retraced his steps. "Come!" said the Captain, "let us hasten-they are
killing somebody!" They approached the building, and entered by an open
door in the basement. The passage, or entry-way, was filled with all
sorts of building materials; and on the left, another door opened into
a long basement apartment, with loose boards laid upon the floor-joists
overhead. Here in this dark apartment was the suffering object whose
moans had attracted their attention. A large billet of wood, about six
feet long and three feet square, which had the appearance of being used
for a chopping-block, laid near. A poor <DW64> man, apparently advanced
in years, was stripped naked and bent over the block, in the shape of a
horse-shoe, with his hands and feet closely pinioned to stakes, driven
in the ground on each side. His feet were kept close together, and close
up to the log, while he was drawn over, tight by the hands, which were
spread open. Thus, with a rope around his neck, tied in a knot at
the throat, with each end carried to the pinion where his hands were
secured, his head and neck were drawn down to the tightest point. The
very position was enough to have killed an ordinary human being in less
than six hours. His master, a large, robust man, with a strong Irish
brogue, started at their appearance, as if alarmed at the presence
of intruders, while holding his hand in the attitude of administering
another blow. "There! you infernal <DW65>; steal again, will you?"
said he, frothing at the mouth with rage--with his coat off, his
shirt-sleeves rolled up, and his face, hands, arms and shirt-bosom so
bespattered with blood, that a thrill of horror ran through the Captain.
On the ground lay several pieces of hoop, broken and covered with blood,
while he held in his hand another piece, (which he had torn from a
lime-cask,) reeking with blood, presenting the picture of a murderer
bestained with the blood of his victim. But the poor sufferer's
punishment had wasted his strength,--his moans had become so faint as to
be scarcely perceptible. His posteriors were so cut and mangled that we
could compare them to nothing but a piece of bullock's-liver, with its
tenacity torn by craven dogs. His body was in a profuse perspiration,
the sweat running from his neck and shoulders, while the blood streamed
from his bruises, down his legs, and upon some shavings on the ground.
Just at this moment a boy brought a pail of water, and set it down close
by the tyrant's feet. "Go away, boy!" said he, and the boy left as
quick as possible. The Captain stood dismayed at the bloody picture.

"Unmerciful man!" said the colonel in a peremptory tone; "what have you
been doing here? You fiend of hell, let the man up! You own slaves to
bring disgrace upon us in this manner! Epithets of contempt and disgust
are too good for you. It is such beasts as you who are creating a
popular hatred against us, and souring the feelings of our countrymen.
Let the man up instantly; the very position you have him in is enough to
kill him, and, if I'm not mistaken, you've killed him already."

"Indeed, he's me own property, and it's yerself won't lose a ha'penny if
he's kilt. An' I'll warrant ye he's cur't of stalin' better than the man
beyant at the wurk'o'se would be doin' if. Bad luck to the nager,
an' it's the second time he'd be doin' that same thing," said he, as
unconcernedly as if he had just been killing a calf.

"I'll 'your own' you, you miserable wretch! Your abuse and cruel
treatment of your slaves is becoming a public thing; and if you a'n't
very careful, something will be done about it before council. If
they are your own, you must not treat them worse than dogs; they have
feeling, if you have no compassion. Be quick! release him at once!"
demanded the colonel, feeling the man's wrist and head.

The tyrant vent deliberately to work, unloosing the cords. This provoked
the colonel still more, and taking his knife from his pocket, he severed
the cords that bound his hands and feet, while as suddenly the Captain
sprang with his knife and severed those that bound his hands and
neck. "Stop, Captain, stop! take no part," said the colonel, with a
significant look.

"Gintlemen, I wish yes wouldn't interfere with my own business," said
the master.

"Take him up, you villanous wretch! I speak to you as you deserve,
without restraint or respect," again the colonel repeated.

He called to the boy who was bringing the pail of water when they
entered. He came forward, and taking the poor fellow by the shoulders,
this beast in human form cried out, "Get up now, ye miserable thief,
ye." The poor fellow made a struggle, but as the black man raised his
head-which seemed to hang as a dead weight-exhaustion had left him
without strength, and he fell back among the bloody shavings like a
mutilated mass of lifeless flesh.

"None of your humbugging; yer worth a dozen dead <DW65>s anyhow," said
he, taking up the pail of water and throwing nearly half of it over him;
then passing the bucket to the black man and ordering him to get more
water and wash him down; then to get some saltpetre and a sponge to sop
his flesh.

"Well," said the colonel, "I have seen a good deal of cruelty to slaves,
but this is the most beastly I have ever beheld. If you don't send for
a doctor at once, I shall report you. That man will die, to a moral
certainty. Now, you may depend upon what I say-if that man dies, you'll
feel the consequences, and I shall watch you closely."

"Sure I always takes care of me own <DW65>s, an' it's himself that won't
be asked to do a stroke of work for a week, but have the same to git
well in," said the tyrant as the colonel and Captain were leaving.

"God be merciful to us, and spare us from the savages of mankind. That
scene, with its bloody accompaniment, will haunt me through life. Do
your laws allow such things?" said the Captain, evidently excited.

"To tell the truth, Captain," said the colonel, "our laws do not reach
them. These men own a few <DW64>s, which, being property, they exercise
absolute control over; a <DW64>'s testimony being invalid, gives them an
unlimited power to abuse and inflict punishment; while, if a white man
attempts to report such things, the cry of 'abolitionist' is raised
against him, and so many stand ready to second the cry, that he must
have a peculiar position if he does not prejudice his own interests
and safety. I am sorry it is so; but it is too true, and while it
stigmatizes the system, it works against ourselves. The evil is in the
defects of the system, but the remedy is a problem with diverse and
intricate workings, which, I own, are beyond my comprehension to solve.
The reason why I spoke to you as I did when you cut the pinions from the
man's hands, was to give you a word of precaution. That is a bad man.
<DW64>s would rather be sold to a sugar plantation in Louisiana any
time than be sold to him. He soon works them down; in two years, fine,
healthy fellows become lame, infirm, and sickly under him; he never
gives them a holiday, and seldom a Sunday, and half-starves them at
that. If his feelings had been in a peculiar mood at the instant you
cut that cord, and he had not labored under the fear of my presence, he
would have raised a gang of his stamp, and with the circumstance of your
being a stranger, the only alternative for your safety would have been
in your leaving the city."

"That vagabond has beaten the poor creature so that he will die; it
can't be otherwise," said the Captain.

"Well, no; I think not, if he is well taken care of for a week or so;
but it's a chance if that brute gives him a week to get well. When
proud-flesh sets in, it is very tedious; that is the reason, so far
as the law is concerned, that the lash was abolished and the paddle
substituted--the former mangled in the manner you saw just now, while
the latter is more acute and bruises less. I have seen a <DW65> taken
from the paddle-frame apparently motionless and lifeless, very little
bruised, and not much blood drawn; but he would come to and go to work
in three or four days," said the colonel as they passed along together.

We would print the name of this brute in human form, that the world
might read it, were it not for an amiable wife and interesting family,
whose feelings we respect. We heard the cause of this cruel torture a
short time after, which was simply that he had stolen a few pounds
of nails, and this fomented the demon's rage. In the manner we have
described, this ferocious creature had kept his victim for more than two
hours, beating him with the knotty hoops taken from lime-casks. His rage
would move at intervals, like gusts of wind during a gale. Thus, while
his feelings raged highest, he would vent them upon the flesh of the
poor pinioned wretch; then he would stop, rest his arm, and pace the
ground from wall to wall, and as soon as his passion stormed, commence
again and strike the blows with all his power, at the same time keeping
the black boy standing with a bucket of water in his hand ready to pour
upon the wretch whenever signs of fainting appeared. Several times, when
the copious shower came over him, it filled his mouth, so that his cries
resounded with a gurgling, death-like noise, that made every sensation
chill to hear it. During this space of time, he inflicted more than
three hundred blows. Our information is from the man who did his
master's bidding--poured the water--and dared not say, "Good massa,
spare poor Jacob." We visited the place about a month afterward, on
a pretext of examining the basement of the building, and saw the
unmistakable evidences of civilized torture yet remaining in the ground
and upon the shavings that were scattered around.

"Captain, you must not judge the institution of slavery by what you
saw there; that is only one of those isolated cases so injurious in
themselves, but for which the general character of the institution
should not be held answerable," said the colonel.

"A system so imperfect should be revised, lest innocent men be made to
suffer its wrongs," said the Captain.

They continued their walk through several very pretty parts of the city,
where fine flowering gardens and well-trimmed hedges were nicely laid
out; these, however, were not the habitations of the "old families."
They occupied parts of the city designated by massive-looking old
mansions, exhibiting an antiqueness and mixed architecture, with
dilapidated court-yards and weather-stained walls, showing how steadfast
was the work of decay.

The colonel pointed out the many military advantages of the city, which
would be used against Uncle Sam if he meddled with South Carolina. He
spoke of them ironically, for he was not possessed of the secession
monomania. He had been a personal friend of Mr. Calhoun, and knew his
abstractions. He knew Mr. McDuffie; Hamilton, (the transcendant, of
South Carolina fame;) Butler, of good component parts-eloquent, but
moved by fancied wrongs; Rhett, renouncer of that vulgar name of Smith,
who hated man because he spoke, yet would not fight because he feared
his God; and betwixt them, a host of worthies who made revenge a motto;
and last, but not least, great Quattlebum, whose strength and
spirit knows no bound, and brought the champion Commander, with his
enthusiastic devotion, to lead unfaltering forlorn hopes. But he knew
there was deception in the political dealings of this circle of great
names.

Returning to the market, they took a social glass at Baker's, where the
colonel took leave of the Captain; and the latter, intending to repair
to his vessel, followed the course of the market almost to its lowest
extreme. In one of the most public places of the market, the Captain's
attention was attracted by a singular object of mechanism. It seemed
so undefined in its application, that he was reminded of the old saying
among sailors when they fall in with any indescribable thing at sea,
that it was a "fidge-fadge, to pry the sun up with in cloudy weather."
It was a large pedestal about six feet high, with a sort of platform at
the base for persons to stand upon, supplied with two heavy rings about
eight inches apart. It was surmounted by an apex, containing an iron
shackle long enough for a sloop-of-war's best bower chain, and just,
beneath it was a nicely-turned moulding. About three feet from the
ground, and twelve inches from the pedestal, were two pieces of timber
one above the other, with a space of some ten inches between them, the
upper one set about five inches nearest the pedestal, also containing
two rings, and both supported by posts in the ground. Above the whole
was a framework, with two projecting timbers supplied with rings, and
standing about fourteen inches in a diagonal direction above the big
ring in the apex of the shaft. It was altogether a curious instrument,
but it designated the civilization of the age, upon the same principle
that a certain voyager who, on landing in a distant country, discovered
traces of civilization in the decaying remains of an old gallows.

He viewed the curious instrument for some time, and then turning to an
old ragged <DW64>, whose head and beard were whitened with the flour of
age, said, "Well, old man, what do you call that?"

"Why, massa, him great t'ing dat-what big old massa judge send
buckra-man to get whip, so color foke laugh when 'e ketch 'im on de
back, ca' bim; an' massa wid de cock-up hat on 'e head put on big vip
jus' so," said the old <DW64>.

It was the whipping-post, where white men, for small thefts, were
branded with ignominy and shame.

"Are you a slave, old man?" inquired the Captain.

The old man turned his head aside and pulled his ragged garments, as if
shame had stung his feelings.

"Do, good massa-old Simon know ye don'e belong here-give him piece of
'bacca," replied the hoary-headed veteran evidently intending to evade
the question. The Captain divided his "plug" with him, and gave him a
quarter to get more, but not to buy whiskey. "Tank-e, massa, tank-e; he
gone wid ole Simon long time."

"But you haven't answered my question; I asked you if you were a slave."

"Ah! massa, ye don'e know him how he is, ah ha! ha! I done gone now.
Massa Pringle own 'im once, but 'im so old now, nobody say I own 'im,
an' ole Simon a'n't no massa what say I his fo' bacon. I don't woff
nofin' nohow now, 'cos I ole. When Simon young-great time 'go-den massa
say Simon his; woff touzan' dollars; den me do eve' ting fo' massa just
so. I prime nigga den, massa; now I woff nosin', no corn and bacon 'cept
what 'im git from Suke-e. She free; good massa make her free," said he.

"How old are you, old man?" inquired the Captain.

"Ah, Massa Stranger, ye got ole Simon da! If me know dat, den 'im
know somefin' long time ago, what buckra-man don' larn. I con'try-born
<DW65>, massa, but I know yonder Massa Pringle house fo' he built 'im."
Just at this moment several pieces of cannon and other ordnance were
being drawn past on long, low-wheeled drays. "Ah, massa, ye don'e know
what 'em be," said the old <DW64>, pointing to them. "Dem wa' Massa South
Ca'lina gwan to whip de 'Nited States wid Massa Goberna' order 'em last
year, an 'e jus' come. Good masse gwan' to fight fo' we wid 'em." The
poor old man seemed to take a great interest in the pieces of ordnance
as they passed along, and to have inherited all the pompous ideas of
his master. The <DW64>s about Charleston have a natural inclination for
military tactics, and hundreds of ragged urchins, as well as old daddies
and mammies, may be seen following the fife and drum on parade days.

"Then I suppose you've a home anywhere, and a master nowhere, old man?"
said the Captain, shaking him by the hand, as one who had worn out his
slavery to be disowned in the winter of life.




CHAPTER XXII. COPELAND'S RELEASE, AND MANUEL'S CLOSE CONFINEMENT.



THE Captain of the Janson, finding that no dependence was to be placed
upon the statements of the officials, after returning to his vessel,
gave orders that Tommy should be sent to the jail every day with
provisions for Manuel. The task was a desirable one for Tommy, and
every day about ten o'clock he might be seen trudging to the jail with a
haversack under his arm. There were five stewards confined in the cell,
and for some days previous to this attention on the part of the Captain
they had been reduced to the last stage of necessity. The quantity may
be considered as meagre when divided among so many, but added to the
little things brought in by Jane, and presents from several of the crew
of the Janson, they got along. Still it was a dependence upon chance and
charity, which any casual circumstance might affect. For several days
they made themselves as contented and happy as the circumstances would
admit; and always being anxious to enjoy the privilege of their time
in the yard, they would leave their cell together, and mix with the
prisoners of their own color under the stoop.

After a few days, they found that their cell had been entered, and
nearly all their provisions stolen. Not contented with this, the act was
repeated for several days, and all the means they provided to detect the
thief proved fruitless. The jailer made several searches through
their remonstrances, but without effecting any thing. They kept their
provisions in a little box, which they locked with a padlock; but as
Daley had the keys of the cell, they had no means of locking the door.
At length Manuel set a trap that proved effectual. One morning Tommy
came puffing into the jail with a satchel over his back. "I guess Manuel
won't feel downhearted when he sees this--do you think he will?" said
the little fellow, as he put the satchel upon the floor and looked up
at the jailer. "An' I've got some cigars, too, the Captain sent, in
my pocket," said he, nodding his head; and putting his hand into a
side-pocket, pulled out one and handed it to the jailer.

"Ah! you are a good little fellow-worth a dozen of our boys. Sit down
and rest yourself," said the jailer, and called a monstrous <DW64> wench
to bring a chair and take the satchel up to the cell. Then turning
to the back-door, he called Manuel; and, as if conscious of Tommy's
arrival, the rest of the stewards followed. He sprang from the chair
as soon as he saw Manuel, and running toward him, commenced telling him
what he had got in the satchel and at the same time pulled out a handful
of segars that the Captain had sent for himself. Manuel led the way
up-stairs, followed by Tommy and the train of stewards. Tommy opened the
satchel, while Manuel laid the contents, one by one, on the table which
necessity had found in the head of a barrel.

"Now eat, my friends, eat just as much as you want, and then I'll catch
the thief that breaks my lock and steals my meat. I catch him," said
Manuel. After they had all done, he locked the balance up in his box,
and sent everybody down-stairs into the yard, first covering himself
with two mattrasses, and giving orders to Copeland to lock the door
after him. Every thing was ready to move at the word. In this position
he remained for nearly half an hour. At length he heard a footstep
approach the door, and then the lock clink. The door opened slowly, and
the veritable Mr. Daley limped in, and taking a key from his pocket,
unlocked the little box, and filling his tin pan, locked it, and was
walking off as independent as a wood-sawyer, making a slight whistle to
a watch that was stationed at the end of the passage. "It's you, is it?"
said Manuel, suddenly springing up and giving him a blow on the side of
the head that sent him and the contents of the pan into a promiscuous
pile on the floor. Daley gathered himself up and made an attempt to
reach the door, but Manuel, fearing what might be the consequence if
the other prisoners came to his assistance, shut the door before him and
fastened it on the inside.

"Bad luck to yer infernal eyes, will ye strike a white man, ye nager ye,
in a country like this same?" said Daley, as he was gathering himself
up. This incensed Manuel's feelings still more. To have insult added to
injury, and a worthless drunkard and thief abuse him, was more than he
could bear. He commenced according to a sailor's rule of science, and
gave Daley a systematic threshing, which, although against the rules of
the jail, was declared by several of the prisoners to be no more than
he had long deserved. As may have been expected, Daley cried lustily for
help, adding the very convenient item of murder, to make his case more
alarming. Several persons had crowded around the door, but none could
gain admittance. The jailer had no sooner reached the door, than (most
unfortunately for Manuel) he was called back to the outer door, to admit
Mr. Grimshaw, who had just rung the bell. The moment he entered, Daley's
noise was loudest, and reached his ears before he had gained the outside
gate. He rushed up-stairs, followed by the jailer, and demanded entrance
at the cell door, swearing at the top of his voice that he would break
it in with an axe if the command was not instantly obeyed.

The door opened, and Manuel stood with his left hand extended at Daley.
"Come in, gentlemen, I catch him, one rascal, what steal my provision
every day, and I punish him, what he remember when I leave."

Daley stood trembling against the wall, bearing the marks of serious
injury upon his face and eyes. "At it again, Daley? Ah! I thought you
had left off them tricks!" said the jailer.

Daley began to tell a three-cornered story, and to give as many possible
excuses, with equally as many characteristic bulls in them. "I don't
want to hear your story, Daley," said Mr. Grimshaw. "But, Mr. Jailer, I
command you to lock that man up in the third story," pointing to Manuel.
"I don't care what the circumstances are. He's given us more trouble
than he's worth. He tried to pass himself off for a white man, but he
couldn't come that, and now he's had the impudence to strike a white
man; lock him up! lock him up!! and keep him locked up until further
orders from me. I'll teach him a lesson that he never learnt before he
came to South Carolina; and then let Consul Mathew sweat over him, and
raise another fuss if he can."

"If he's guilty of violating the rules of the jail, Daley is guilty of
misdemeanour, and the thieving has been aggravatingly continued. If we
put one, we must put both up," said the jailer.

"Just obey my orders, Mr. Jailer. I will reprimand Daley to-morrow. I
shall just go to the extent of the law with that feller," said Grimshaw
peremptorily.

"You may lock me up in a dungeon, do with me as you will, if the power
is yours; but my feelings are my own, and you cannot crush them. I look
to my consul, and the country that has protected me around the world,
and can protect me still," said Manuel, resigning himself to the jailer,
whose intentions he knew to be good.

Poor little Tommy stood begging and crying for his friend and companion,
for he heard Mr. Grimshaw give an imperative order to the jailer not
to allow visitors into his cell. "Never mind, Tommy, we shall soon meet
again, and sail companions for the old owners. Don't cry; the jailer
will let you see me to-morrow," said Manuel.

"No, I can't do that; you heard my orders; I must obey them. I should
like to do it, but it's out of my power," returned the jailer, awaiting
with a bunch of keys in his hand.

Manuel turned to the little fellow, and kissing him as he would an
affectionate child, bade him adieu, and ascended, the steps leading to
the third story (Mount Rascal) in advance of the jailer, to be confined
in a dark, unhealthy cell, there to await the caprice of one man.
To describe this miserable hole would be a task too harrowing to
our feelings. We pass it for those who will come after us. He little
thought, when he shook the hand of his little companion, that it was the
last time he should meet him for many months, and then only to take a
last parting look, under the most painful circumstances. But such is the
course of life!

Copeland had received notice to hold himself in readiness, as his vessel
would be ready for sea the next morning. He was not long in getting his
few things in order, and when morning came he was on hand, prepared to
bound from the iron confines of the Charleston jail, like a stag from a
thicket. As he bade good-by to his fellow-prisoners in the morning,
he said, "This is my last imprisonment in Charleston. I have been
imprisoned in Savannah, but there I had plenty to eat, comfortable
apartments, and every thing I asked for, except my liberty. Never, so
long as I sail the water, shall I ship for such a port as this again."
He requested to see Manuel, but being refused, upon the restraint of
orders, he left the jail. It was contrary to law; and thus in pursuing
his vocation within the limits of South-Carolina, his owners were
made to pay the following sum, for which neither they nor the man who
suffered the imprisonment received any compensation. "Contrary to Law."
Schooner "Oscar Jones," Captain Kelly, For William H. Copeland, 
Seaman. To Sheriff of Charleston District. 1852,

To Arrest, $2; Registry, $2, $4.00 To Recog. $1.31; Constable, $1, 2.31
To Commitment and Discharge, 1.00 To 15 Days' Jail Maintenance of Wm. H.
Copeland, at 80 cts. per day, 4.50 Received payment, $11.81 J. D--, Per
Charles E. Kanapeaux, Clerk.

God save the sovereignty of South Carolina, and let her mercy and
hospitality be known on earth!




CHAPTER XXIII. IMPRISONMENT OF JOHN PAUL, AND JOHN BAPTISTE PAMERLIE.



IN order to complete the four characters, as we designed in the outset,
we must here introduce the persons whose names fill the caption. The
time of their imprisonment was some two months later than Manuel's
release; but we introduce them here for the purpose of furnishing a
clear understanding of the scenes connected with Manuel's release.

John Paul was a fine-looking French <DW64>, very dark, with
well-developed features, and very intelligent,--what would be called in
South Carolina, "a very prime feller." He was steward on board of the
French bark Senegal, Captain--. He spoke excellent French and Spanish,
and read Latin very well,--was a Catholic, and paid particular respect
to devotional exercises,--but unfortunately he could not speak or
understand a word of English. In all our observation of different
characters of <DW52> men, we do not remember to have seen one whose
pleasant manner, intelligence, and civility, attracted more general
attention. But he could not comprehend the meaning of the law
imprisoning a peaceable man without crime, and why the authorities
should fear him, when he could not speak their language. He wanted to
see the city-what sort of people were in it-if they bore any analogy to
their good old forefathers in France; and whether they had inherited the
same capricious feelings as the descendants of the same generation
on the other side of the water. There could be no harm in that; and
although he knew something of French socialism, he was ignorant of
Carolina's peculiar institutions, her politics, and her fears of
abolition, as a "Georgia cracker"

A sort of semi-civilized native, wearing a peculiar homespun dress; with
a native dialect strongly resembling many of the Yorkshire phrases. They
are generally found located in the poorer parishes and districts, where
their primitive-looking cabins are easily designated from that of the
more enterprising agriculturist. But few of them can read or write,--and
preferring the coarsest mode of life, their habits are extremely
dissolute. Now and then one may be found owning a <DW64> or two,--but
a <DW64> would rather be sold to the torments of hell, or a Louisiana
sugar-planter, than to a Georgia cracker. You will see them approaching
the city on market-days, with their travelling-cart, which is a
curiosity in itself. It is a two-wheeled vehicle of the most primitive
description, with long, rough poles for shafts or thills. Sometimes it
is covered with a blanket, and sometimes with a white rag, under which
are a few things for market, and the good wife, with sometimes one
or two wee-yans; for the liege lord never fails to bring his wife to
market, that she may see the things of the city. The dejected-looking
frame of some scrub-breed horse or a half-starved mule is tied (for we
can't call it harnessed) between the thills, with a few pieces of rope
and withes; and, provided with a piece of wool-tanned sheep-skin, the
lord of the family, with peculiar dress, a drab slouched hat over his
eyes, and a big whip in his hand, mounts on the back of the poor animal,
and placing his feet upon the thills to keep them down, tortures it
through a heavy, sandy road. The horses are loaded so much beyond their
strength, that they will stop to blow, every ten or fifteen minutes,
while the man will sit upon their backs with perfect unconcern.
Remonstrate with them in regard to the sufficient draught added to
the insupportable weight upon their backs, and they will immediately
commence demonstrating how he can draw easier when there is an immense
weight upon his back. The husband generally exchanges his things for
whiskey, rice, and tobacco, while the wife buys calico and knick-knacks.
Sometimes they get "a right smart chance o' things" together, and have a
"party at home," which means a blow-out among themselves. Sometimes they
have a shucking, which is a great affair, even among the little farmers
in Upper Georgia, where, only, corn-shuckings are kept up with all the
spice of old custom, and invitations are extended to those at a distance
of ten or fifteen miles, who repay the compliment with their presence,
and join in the revelry. There are two classes of the cracker in
Georgia, according to our observation, differing somewhat in their
dialect, but not in their habits. One is the upper, and the other the
low country, or rather what some call the "co-u-n-try-b-o-r-n" cracker.
The up-country cracker gives more attention to farming, inhabits what's
known as the Cherokee country and its vicinity, and is designated by the
sobriquet of "wire-grass man." would be of Greek. Like his predecessors
in confinement, he fell into the hands of the veritable Dunn, without
the assistance of his friend Duse, as he called him; but had it not been
for the timely appearance of a clerk in the French consul's office, who
explained the nature of the arrest, in his native tongue, Mr. Dunn would
have found some trouble in making the arrest. Already had the officers
and crew of the bark gathered around him, making grimaces, and gibbering
away like a flock of blackbirds surrounding a hawk, and just ready to
pounce. "Don't I'se be tellin' yees what I wants wid 'im, and the divil
a bit ye'll understand me. Why don't yees spake so a body can understand
what yees be blatherin' about. Sure, here's the paper, an' yees won't
read the English of it. The divil o' such a fix I was ever in before wid
yer John o' crapue's an' yer chatter. Ye say we-we-we; sure it's but one
I wants. Ah! whist now, captain, and don't ye be makin' a bother over
it. Shure, did ye niver hear o' South Carolina in the wide world? An'
ye bees travellin' all over it, and herself's such a great State, wid so
many great gintlemen in it," said Dunn, talking his green-island Greek
to the Frenchman.

"We, we! mon Dieu, ah!" said the Frenchman.

"Ah, shure there ye are again. What would I be doin' wid de 'hole o'
yees? It's the nager I want. Don't ye know that South Carolina don't
allow the likes o' him to be comin ashore and playing the divil wid her
slaves," continued Dunn, stretching himself up on his lame leg.

The clerk stepped up at this moment. "It's 'imself'll be telling yes all
about it, for yer like a parcel of geese makin' a fuss about a goslin."
Mr. Dunn had got his Corkonian blood up; and although the matter was
explained, he saw the means at hand, and fixed his feelings for a stiff
compensation. The clerk, after explaining to the captain, turned to John
Paul and addressed him. As soon as he was done, John commenced to pack
up his dunnage and get money from the captain, as if he was bound on
an Arctic Expedition. Dunn's eyes glistened as he saw the money passing
into Paul's hand; but he was not to be troubled with the dunnage, and
after hurrying him a few times, marched him off. He went through the
regular system of grog-shop sponging; but his suavity and willingness to
acquiesce in all Mr. Dunn's demands, saved him some rough usage. There
was this difference between John Paul and Manuel, that the former,
not understanding the English language, mistook Dunn's deception for
friendship, and moved by that extreme French politeness and warmth of
feeling, which he thought doing the gentleman par excellence; while the
latter, with a quicker perception of right and wrong, and understanding
our language, saw the motive and disdained its nefarious object. For
when Paul arrived at the jail he was minus a five-dollar gold-piece,
which his very amiable official companion took particular care of, lest
something should befall it. Poor John Paul! He was as harmless as South
Carolina's secession and chivalry-two of the most harmless things in the
world, not excepting Congressional duelling.

As soon as he entered the jail and found that the jailer could speak
French, he broke out in a perfect tornado of enthusiasm. "Je serai
charm, de lier connaissance avec un si amiable compagnon," said he,
and continued in a strain so swift and unabated that it would have been
impossible for an Englishman to have traced the inflections.

The jailer called Daley, and telling him to take his blanket, the
State's allotment, ordered him shown to his cell. Daley took the blanket
under his arm and the keys in his hand, and Paul soon followed him
upstairs to be introduced to his cell. "There, that's the place for
yees. We takes the shine off all ye dandy <DW65>s whin we gets ye here.
Do ye see the pair of eyes in the head o' me?" said Daley, pointing to
his blackened eyes; "an' he that done that same is in the divil's own
place above. Now, if ye have ever a drap of whiskey, don't be keepin' it
shy, an' it'll be tellin' ye a good many favors."

"Ah! mon Dieu! Cela fait dresser les cheveux la tete," said Paul,
shrugging his shoulders.

"Bad luck to the word of that I'd be understandin' at all, at all. Can't
ye spake so a body'd understand what ye'd mane?"

"C'est ma grande consolation d'avoir. * * * Les Etats-Unis est une
mod,le de perfection republicaine," said he, taking the blanket from
Daley and throwing it upon the floor. He was but a poor companion for
his fellow-prisoners, being deprived of the means to exercise his social
qualities. He went through the same course of suffering that Manuel did;
but, whether from inclination or necessity, bore it with more Christian
fortitude, chanting vespers every morning, and reading the Latin service
every evening. The lesson which Manuel taught Daley proved of great
service to Paul, who gave Daley the jail-ration which it was impossible
for him to eat, and was saved from his pilfering propensities. Thus,
after John Paul had suffered thirty-five days' imprisonment, in mute
confinement, to satisfy the majesty of South Carolina, he was released
upon the following conditions, and taken to his vessel at early
daylight, lest he should see the city or leave something to contaminate
the slaves. "Contrary to law." State vs. "Contrary to law." French bark
"Senegal," Capt.--For John Paul,  Seaman. To Sheriff Charleston
Dist.

July 18, 1852. To Arrest, $2; Registry, $2, $4.00" "Recog. $1.31;
Constable, $1, 2.31" "Commitment and discharge, 1.00" "35 Days'
Maintenace of John Paul, at 30 cents per day, 10.50

Recd. payment, $17.81 J. D--, S. C. D. Per Chs. E. Kanapeaux, Clerk.

A very nice item of disbursements to present to the owners-a premium
paid for the advanced civilization of South Carolina!

We have merely noticed the imprisonment of John Paul, our limits
excluding the details. We must now turn to a little, pert, saucy French
boy, eleven years old, who spoke nothing but Creole French, and that
as rotten as we ever heard lisped. The French bark Nouvelle Amelie,
Gilliet, master, from Rouen, arrived in Charleston on the twenty-ninth
of July. The captain was a fine specimen of a French gentleman. He
stood upon the quarter-deck as she was being "breasted-in" to the wharf,
giving orders to his men, while the little child stood at the galley
looking at the people upon the wharf, making grimaces and pointing one
of the crew to several things that attracted his attention. Presently
the vessel hauled alongside of the dock, and Dusenberry, with his
companion Dunn, who had been watching all the movements of the vessel
from a hiding-place on the wharf, sprang out and boarded her ere she had
touched the piles.

The "<DW65>," seeing Dusenberry approach him, waited until he saw his
hand extended, and then, as if to save himself from impending danger,
ran aft and into the cabin, screaming at the top of his voice. The crew
began to run and move up into close quarters. The issue was an important
one, and rested between South Carolina and the little "<DW65>."
Dusenberry attempted to descend into the cabin. "Vat you vant wid my
John, my Baptiste? No, you no do dat, 'z my cabin; never allow stranger
go down 'im," said the captain, placing himself in the companionway,
while the little terrified <DW65> peeped above the combing, and rolled
his large eyes, the white glowing in contrast, from behind the captain's
legs. In this tempting position the little darkie, knowing he was
protected by the captain and crew, would taunt the representative of the
State with his bad French. Dunn stood some distance behind Dusenberry,
upon the deck, and the mission seemed to be such a mystery to both
captain and crew, that their presence aroused a feeling of curiosity as
well as anxiety. Several of the sailors gathered around him, and made
antic grimaces, pointing their fingers at him and swearing, so that
Dunn began to be alarmed by the incomprehensible earnestness of their
gibberish, turned pale, and retreated several steps, to the infinite
amusement of those upon the wharf.

"Vat 'e do, ah, you vant 'im? Vat you do vid 'im ven zu gets him, ah?
Cette affaire delicate demande," said one of the number, who was honored
with the title of mate, and who, with a terrific black moustache and
beard, had the power of contorting his face into the most repugnant
grimaces. And, at the moment, he drew his sheath-knife and made a
pretended plunge at Dunn's breast, causing him to send forth a pitiful
yell, and retreat to the wharf with quicker movements than he ever
thought himself capable of.

"Il n'y a pas grand mal cela," said the Frenchman, laughing at Dunn as
he stood upon the capsill of the wharf.

"Bad luck to ye, a pretty mess a murderous Frinchmin that ye are. Do
yees be thinkin' ye'd play that trick in South Carolina? Ye'll get the
like o' that taken out o' ye whin yer before his honor in the mornin',"
said Dunn.

Dusenberry had stood parleying with the captain at the companion-door,
endeavoring to make the latter understand that it was not a case which
required the presence of the silver oar. There is a prevailing opinion
among sailors, that no suit in Admiralty can be commenced, or seaman
arrested while on board, without the presence of the silver oar. And
thus acting upon this impression, the captain and officers of the
Nouvelle Amelie contended for what they considered a right. The mate and
crew drew closer and closer toward Dusenberry, until he became infected
with the prevailing alarm. "Captain, I demand your protection from these
men, in the name of the State of South Carolina," said he.

"Who he? De State Souf Ca'lina, vat I know 'bout him, ah? Bring de
silver oar when come take my man. Il y a de la malhomme tet, dans sou
proces," said Captain Gilliet, turning to his mate.

"Avaunt! avaunt!" said the big man with the large whiskers, and they all
made a rush at Dusenberry, and drove him over the rail and back to the
wharf, where he demanded the assistance of those anxious spectators, for
and in the name of the State. It was a right good vaudeville comique,
played in dialogue and pantomime. The point of the piece, which, with a
little arrangement, might have made an excellent production, consisted
of a misunderstanding between an Irishman and a Frenchman about South
Carolina, and a law so peculiar that no stranger could comprehend its
meaning at first and as neither could understand the language of the
other, the more they explained the more confounded the object became,
until, from piquant comique, the scene was worked into the appearance of
a tragedy. One represented his ship, and to him his ship was his nation;
the other represented South Carolina, and to him South Carolina was the
United States; and the question was, which had the best right to the
little darkie.

The spectators on the wharf were not inclined to move, either not
wishing to meddle themselves with South Carolina's affairs-wanting
larger game to show their bravery-or some more respectable officer
to act in command. The little darkie, seeing Dusenberry driven to the
wharf, ran to the gangway, and protruding his head over the rail, worked
his black phiz into a dozen pert expressions, showing his ivory,
rolling the white of his eyes, and crooking his finger upon his nose in
aggravating contempt.

"Shure, we'll turn the guard out and take ye an' yer ship, anyhow. Why
don't yees give the nager up dasently, an' don't be botherin'. An'
isn't it the law of South Carolina, be dad; an' be the mortis, ye'd be
getting' no small dale of a pinalty for the same yer doin'," said Dunn.

A gentleman, who had been a silent looker-on, thinking it no more than
proper to proffer his mediation, perceiving where the difficulty lay,
stepped on board and introducing himself to the captain, addressed him
in French, and explained the nature of the proceeding. The captain shook
his head for some time, and shrugged his shoulders. "La police y est
bien administree," said he, with an air of politeness; and speaking to
his mate, that officer again spoke to the men, and Dusenberry was told
by the gentleman that he could come on board. Without further ceremony,
he mounted the rail and made a second attempt at the young urchin,
who screamed and ran into the cook's galley, amid the applause of the
seamen, who made all sorts of shouts inciting him to run, crying out,
"Run, Baptiste! run, Baptiste!" In this manner the little darkie kept
the officer at bay for more than fifteen minutes, passing out of one
door as the officer entered the other, to the infinite delight of the
crew. At length his patience became wearied, and as he was about to call
Dunn to his assistance, the captain came up, and calling the child to
him-for such he was-delivered him up, the little fellow roaring at the
top of his voice as the big officer carried him over the rail under
his arm. This ended the vaudeville comique on board of the French bark
Nouvelle Amelie, Captain Gilliet.

The dignity of the State was triumphant, and the diminutive <DW65> was
borne off under the arm of its representative. What a beautiful theme
for the painter's imagination! And how mutely sublime would have been
the picture if the pencil of a Hogarth could have touched it. The
majesty of South Carolina carrying a child into captivity!

After carrying John Baptiste about halfway up the wharf, they put him
down, and made him "trot it" until they reached the Dutch grog-shop
we have described in the scene with Manuel. Here they halted to take a
"stiff'ner," while Baptiste was ordered to sit down upon a bench, Dunn
taking him by the collar and giving him a hearty shake, which made the
lad bellow right lustily. "Shut up, ye whelp of a <DW65>, or ye'll get a
doz for yeer tricks beyant in the ship," said Dunn; and after remaining
nearly an hour, arguing politics and drinking toddies, Mr. Dunn got very
amiably fuddled, and was for having a good-natured quarrel with every
customer that came; into the shop. He laboured under a spirit-inspired
opinion that they must treat or fight; and accordingly would attempt to
reduce his opinions to practical demonstrations. At length the Dutchman
made a courteous remonstrance, but no sooner had he done it, than Dunn
drew his hickory stick across the Dutchman's head, and levelled him upon
the floor. The Dutchman was a double-fisted fellow, and springing up
almost instantly, returned the compliment. Dusenberry was more sober,
and stepped in to make a reconciliation; but before he had time to exert
himself, the Dutchman running behind the counter, Dunn aimed another
blow at him, which glanced from his arm and swept a tin drench, with
a number of tumblers on it, into a smash upon the floor. This was the
signal for a general melee, and it began in right earnest between the
Dutch and the Irish,--for the Dutchman called the assistance of several
kinsmen who were in the front store, and Dunn, with the assistance of
Dusenberry, mustered recruits from among a number of his cronies, who
were standing at a corner on the opposite side, of the street. Both came
to the rescue, but the O'Nales and Finnegans outnumbering the Dutch,
made a Donnybrook onset, disarming and routing their adversaries, and
capsizing barrels, boxes, kegs, decanters, and baskets of onions, into
one general chaos,--taking possession of the Dutchman's calabash, and
proclaiming their victory with triumphant shouts.

They had handcuffed the boy Baptiste as soon as they entered the store,
and in the midst of the conflict he escaped without being observed, and
ran for his vessel, handcuffed, and crying at the top of his voice. He
reached the Nouvelle Amelie, to the consummate surprise of the officers
and crew, and the alarm of pedestrians as he passed along the street.
"Mon Dieu!" said the mate, and taking the little fellow to the
windlass-bits, succeeded in severing the handcuffs with a cold-chisel,
and sent him down into the forecastle to secrete himself.

When Dunn's wild Irish had subsided, Dusenberry began to reason with him
upon the nature of the affair, and the matter was reconciled upon the
obligations that had previously existed, and a promise to report no
violations of the ordinances during a specified time. Looking around,
Dunn exclaimed, "Bad manners till ye, Swizer, what a' ye done with the
little nager? Where did ye put him?--Be dad, Duse, he's gone beyant!"
An ineffectual search was made among barrels and boxes, and up the old
chimney. "Did ye see him?" inquired Dunn, of a yellow man that had been
watching the affray at the door, while Dusenberry continued to poke with
his stick among the boxes and barrels.

"Why, massa, I sees him when he lef de doo, but I no watch him 'till 'e
done gone," said the man.

Dunn was despatched to the vessel in search, but every thing there was
serious wonderment, and carried out with such French naviete, that his
suspicions were disarmed, and he returned with perfect confidence that
he was not there. A search was now made in all the <DW64>-houses in the
neighborhood; but kicks, cuts, and other abuses failed to elicit
any information of his whereabouts. At length Dunn began to feel the
deadening effects of the liquor, and was so muddled that he could not
stand up; then, taking possession of a bed in one of the houses,
he stretched himself upon it in superlative contempt of every thing
official, and almost simultaneously fell into a profound sleep. In this
manner he received the attention of the poor <DW52> woman whose bed
he occupied, and whom he had abused in searching for the boy. In this
predicament, Dusenberry continued to search alone, and kept it up until
sundown, when he was constrained to report the case to the sheriff,
who suspended Mr. Dunn for a few days. The matter rested until the next
morning, when the case of the little saucy <DW65> vs. South Carolina was
renewed with fresh vigor. Then Mr. Grimshaw, accompanied by Dusenberry,
proceeded to the barque, and there saw the boy busily engaged in the
galley. Mr. Grimshaw went on board, followed by Duse, and approaching
the cabin door, met the captain ascending the stairs. "Captain, I
want that <DW65> boy of yourn, and you may just as well give him up
peaceably," said he.

"Yes, monsieur,--but you no treat 'im like child wen you get 'im,"
said the captain. Retiring to the cabin, and bringing back the broken
manacles in his hand, he held them up to Mr. Grimshaw, "You put such dem
thing on child like 'im, in South Carolina, ah? What you tink 'im be,
young <DW65>, ox, horse, bull, ah! what? Now you take'e him! treat him
like man, den we no 'struct to laws wat South Carolina got," continued
he.

Mr. Grimshaw thanked the captain, but made no reply about the manacles;
taking them in his hand, and handing the boy over into the charge of
Dusenberry. In a few minutes he was ushered into the sheriff's office,
and the important points of his dimensions and features noted
in accordance with the law. We are not advised whether the pert
characteristics of his nature were emblazoned,--if they were, the record
would describe a singular specimen of a frightened French darkie, more
amusing than judicial. But John Baptiste Pamerlie passed the ordeal,
muttering some rotten Creole, which none of the officials could
understand, and was marched off to the jail, where the jailer acted as
his interpreter. Being so small, he was allowed more latitude to ware
and haul than the others, while his peculiar bon point and pert
chatter afforded a fund of amusement for the prisoners, who made him a
particular butt, and kept up an incessant teasing to hear him jabber.
The second day of his imprisonment he received a loaf of bread in
the morning, and a pint of greasy water, misnamed soup. That was the
allowance when they did not take meat. He ran down-stairs with the pan
in hand, raising an amusing fuss, pointing at it, and spitting out his
Creole to the jailer. He was disputing the question of its being soup,
and his independent manner had attracted a number of the prisoners. Just
at the moment, the prison dog came fondling against his legs, and to
decide the question, quick as thought, he set the pan before him; and as
if acting upon an instinctive knowledge of the point at issue, the dog
put his nose to it, gave a significant scent, shook his head and walked
off, to the infinite delight of the prisoners, who sent forth a shout of
acclamation. Baptiste left his soup, and got a prisoner, who could speak
Creole, to send for his captain, who came on the next morning and
made arrangements to relieve his condition from the ship's stores. The
following day he whipped one of the jailer's boys in a fair fight; and
on the next he killed a duck, and on the fourth he cut a white prisoner.
Transgressing the rules of the jail in rejecting his soup-violating the
laws of South Carolina making it a heinous offence for a <DW64> to strike
or insult a white person--committing murder on a duck--endeavoring to
get up a fandango among the yard <DW65>s, and trying the qualities of
cold steel, in a prisoner's hand, thus exhibiting all the versatility
of a Frenchman's genius with a youthful sang-froid, he was considered
decidedly dangerous, and locked up for formal reform. Here he remained
until the seventeenth of August, when it was announced that the good
barque Nouvelle Amelie, Captain Gilliet, was ready for sea, and he
was forthwith led to the wharf between two officers, and ordered to
be transferred beyond the limits of the State, the Captain paying the
following nice little bill, of costs. "Contrary to Law." "French
Barque Nouvelle Amelie, Captain Gilliet, from Rouen, For John Baptiste
Pamerlie,  Seaman. 1852. To Sheriff of Charleston District.
August 26th, To Arrest, $2; Registry, $2, $4.00"

"Recog. 1.31; Constable, $1, 2.31"

"Commitment and Discharge, 1.00"

"20 days' Jail Maintenance of John Baptiste Pamerlie, at 30 cts. per
day, $6.00

"Received payment, 13.31 J. D., S. C. D. Per Charles E. Kanapeaux,
Clerk."

Thus ended the scene. The little darkie might have said when he was in
jail, "Je meurs de faim, et l'on ne mapport, rien;" and when he left,
"Il est faufite avec les chevaliers d'industrie."




CHAPTER XXIV. THE JANSON CONDEMNED.



WE must now return to Manuel. He was in close confinement, through Mr.
Grimshaw's orders. Tommy continued to bring him food from day to day,
but was not allowed to see him. The mate and several of the crew
were also refused admittance to him. This was carrying power to an
unnecessary limit, and inflicting a wanton punishment without proper
cause, at the same time exhibiting a flagrant disrespect for personal
feelings. Tommy did not report the affair to the Captain, lest it should
be misconstrued, and worse punishment be inflicted; but when the men
were refused, they naturally mistrusted something, and made inquiries
of the jailer, who readily gave them all the information in his power
concerning the affair, and his orders. This they reported to the
Captain, who immediately repaired to the consul's office, where he found
Mr. Mathew reading a note which he had just received from Manuel. It
stated his grievances in a clear and distinct manner, and begged the
protection of that government under whose flag he sailed, but said
nothing about his provisions. The consul, accompanied by the Captain,
proceeded to the sheriff's office, but could get no satisfaction. "I
never consider circumstances when prisoners violate the rules of the
jail,--he must await my orders! but I shall keep him closely confined
for two weeks, at least," said Mr. Grimshaw.

This incensed the consul still more, for he saw the manner in which a
clique of officials were determined to show their arbitrary power. It
was impossible for him to remain indifferent to this matter, affecting,
as it did, the life and liberty of his fellow-countryman. He could
invoke no sympathy for the man, and the extent of punishment to which
he had been subjected was evidently excited by vindictive feelings. He
applied for a writ of habeas corpus,--but mark the result.

The Captain proceeded to the jail, and demanded to see his steward; the
jailer hesitating at first, at length granted his permission. He found
Manuel locked up in a little, unwholesome cell, with scarcely a glimmer
of light to mark the distinction of day and night; and so pale and
emaciated, that had he met him in the street he should scarcely have
recognised him. "Gracious God! What crime could have brought such an
excess of punishment upon you?" inquired the Captain.

Manuel told him the whole story; and, added to that, the things which
had been sent to him during the seven days he had been confined in that
manner, had seldom reached him. He had lost his good friend Jane, and
the many kind acts which she was wont to bestow upon him, and had been
compelled to live upon bread and water nearly the whole time, suffering
the most intense hunger. Upon inquiry, it was ascertained that the
few things sent to make him comfortable had been intrusted to Daley to
deliver, who appropriated nearly the whole of them to his own use, as a
sort of retaliatory measure for the castigation he received from Manuel.
He had not failed to carry him his pan of soup at twelve o'clock every
day, but made the "choice bits" serve his own digestion. The jailer
felt the pain of the neglect, and promised to arrange a safer process of
forwarding his things by attending to it himself, which he did with
all the attention in his power, when Manuel's condition became more
tolerable. The Captain told Manuel how his affairs stood-that he should
probably have to leave him in charge of the consul, but to keep up good
spirits; that he would leave him plenty of means, and as soon as his
release was effected, to make the best of his way to Scotland and join
the old owners. And thus he left him, with a heavy heart, for Manuel did
read in his countenance what he did not speak.

The Janson had been discharged, a survey held upon the cargo, protest
extended, and the whole sold for the benefit of whom it might concern.
Necessary surveys were likewise held upon the hull, and finding it so
old and strained as to be unworthy of repair, it was condemned and sold
for the benefit of the underwriters. Thus the register "de novo" was
given up to the consul, the men discharged, and paid off according to
the act of William IV., which provides that each man shall receive a
stipend to carry him to the port in Great Britain from which he shipped,
or the consul to provide passage for him, according to his inclination,
to proceed to a point where the voyage would be completed. The consul
adopted the best means in his power to make them all comfortable and
satisfied with their discharge. Their several register-tickets were
given up to them, and one by one left for his place of destination;
Tommy and the second mate only preferring to remain and seek some
new voyage. The old chief mate seemed to congratulate himself in the
condemnation of the unlucky Janson. He shipped on board an English ship,
laden with cotton and naval stores, and just ready for sea. When he
came on board to take a farewell of the Captain, he stood upon deck, and
looking up at the dismantled spars, said, "Skipper, a shadow may save
a body after all. I've always had a presentment that this unlucky old
thing would serve us a trick. I says to meself that night in the Gulf,
'Well, old craft, yer goin' to turn yer old ribs into a coffin, at
last,' but I'll praise the bridge that carries me safe over, because
I've an affection for the old thing after all, and can't part without
saying God bless her, for it's an honest death to die in debt to the
underwriters. I hope her old bones will rest in peace on terra-firma.
Good-by, Captain,--remember me to Manuel; and let us forget our troubles
in Charleston by keeping away from it."




CHAPTER XXV. GEORGE THE SECESSIONIST, AND HIS FATHER'S SHIPS.



AS we have said, the second mate and little Tommy remained to seek
new voyages. Such was the fact with the second mate; but Tommy
had contracted a violent cold on the night he was locked up in the
guard-house, and had been a subject for the medicine-chest for some
time; and this, with his ardent attachment for Manuel, and hopes to
join him again as a sailing companion, was the chief inducement for his
remaining. The Captain gave them accommodations in the cabin so long as
he had possession of the ship, which afforded the means of saving their
money, of which Tommy had much need; for notwithstanding he received a
nice present from the consul, and another from the Captain, which, added
to the few dollars that were coming to him for wages, made him feel
purse-proud, though it was far from being adequate to sustain him any
length of time, or to protect him against any sudden adversity.

The Captain had not seen little George, the secessionist, since his
assurance that he would make every thing right with Mr. Grimshaw,
and have Manuel out in less than twenty-four hours. It was now the
fourteenth of April, and the signs of his getting out were not so good
as they were on the first day he was committed, for the vessel being
condemned, if the law was carried to the strictest literal construction,
Manuel would be tied up among the human things that are articles of
merchandise in South Carolina. He was passing from the wharf to the
consul's office about ten o'clock in the morning, when he was suddenly
surprised in the street by little George, who shook his hand as if he
had been an old friend just returned after a long absence. He made
all the apologies in the world for being called away suddenly, and
consequently, unable to render that attention to his business which his
feelings had prompted. Like all secessionists, George was very fiery and
transitory in his feelings. He expressed unmeasurable surprise when the
Captain told him the condition of his man in the old jail. "You don't
say that men are restricted like that in Charleston? Well, now, I never
was in that jail, but it's unsuited to the hospitality of our society,"
said he.

"Your prison groans with abuses, and yet your people never hear them,"
replied the Captain.

George seemed anxious to change the subject, and commenced giving the
Captain a description of his journey to the plantation, his hunting and
fishing, his enjoyments, and the fat, saucy, slick <DW65>s, the fine
corn and bacon they had, and what they said about massa, ending with an
endless encomium of the "old man's" old whiskey, and how he ripened it
to give it smoothness and flavor. His description of the plantation and
the <DW65>s was truly wonderful, tantalizing the Captain's imagination
with the beauties of a growing principality in itself. "We have just
got a new vessel added to our ships, and she sails for the Pedee this
afternoon. We got the right stripe of a captain, but we have made him
adopt conditions to be true to the secession party. As soon as I get
another man, we'll despatch her in grand style, and no mistake."

The Captain thought of his second mate, and suggested him at once. "Just
the chap. My old man would like him, I know," said George, and they
returned directly to the Janson, where they found the second mate
lashing his dunnage. The proposition was made and readily accepted.
Again the Captain parted with little George, leaving him to take the
mate to his father's office, while he pursued his business at the
consul's.

George led the mate into the office. "Here, father, here's a man to
go in our vessel," said he. The old man looked upon him with a serene
importance, as if he was fettered with his own greatness.

"My shipping interests are becoming very extensive, my man; I own the
whole of four schooners, and a share in the greatest steamship afloat-I
mean screw-ship, the South Carolina--you've heard of her, I suppose?"
said the old man.

Jack stood up with his hat in his hand, thinking over what he meant by
big interests, and "reckoning he hadn't seen the establishment of them
ship-owners about Prince's Dock, what owned more ships apiece than there
were days in the month."

"Now, my man," continued the old man, "I'm mighty strict about my
discipline, for I want every man to do his duty for the interests of the
owners. But how many dollars do you want a month, my man?"

"Nothing less than four pounds starling; that's twenty dollars your
currency, if I reckon right," said Jack, giving his hat a twirl upon the
floor.

"Wh-e-w! you belong to the independent sailors. You'll come down from
that afore you get a ship in this port. Why, I can get a good, prime
<DW65> feller sailor for eight dollars a month and his feed."

Jack concluded not to sail in any of the old man's big ships, and said,
"Yes, I joined them a long time ago, and I ha'n't regretted it, neither;
wouldn't pull a bow-line a penny less. I don't like drogging, no-how.
Good morning, sir," said he, putting on his hat and backing out of the
door.

"I wish you'd a' taken a chance with my father, old fellow; he'd a' made
you captain afore a year," said George, as he was leaving the door.

"The like o' that don't signify. I've been skipper in the West Ingie
trade years ago. There isn't much difference between a <DW65> and
a schooner's captain," said Jack, as he walked off to the Janson,
preparatory to taking lodgings ashore.

That afternoon about five o'clock, a loud noise was heard on board a
little schooner, of about sixty tons' register, that lay in a bend of
the wharf a few lengths ahead of the Janson. Captain Thompson and his
second mate were seated on a locker in the cabin, conversing upon the
prospects ahead, when the noise became so loud that they ran upon deck
to witness the scene.

George stood upon the capsill of the wharf, with mortification pictured
in his countenance. "Well, captain, you needn't make so much noise about
it; your conduct is decidedly ungentlemanly. If you don't wish to sail
in father's employ, leave like a gentleman," said George, pulling up the
corners of his shirt-collar.

It was the great craft that George had distended upon, and the veritable
captain of the right stripe, who promised to toe the mark according to
secession principles, but made no stipulations for the <DW65> feed that
was the cause of the excitement. The captain, a Baltimore coaster, and
accustomed to good feed in his vessels at home, had been induced by a
large representations to take charge of the craft and run her in the
Pedee trade, bringing rice to Charleston. On being told the craft was
all ready for sea, he repaired on board, and, to his chagrin, found
two black men for a crew, and a most ungainly old wench, seven shades
blacker than Egyptian darkness, for a cook. This was imposition enough
to arouse his feelings, for but one of the men knew any thing about
a vessel; but on examining the stores, the reader may judge of his
feelings, if he have any idea of supplying a vessel in a Northern
port, when we tell him that all and singular the stores consisted of
a shoulder of rusty Western bacon, a half-bushel of rice, and a jug of
molasses; and this was to proceed the distance of a hundred miles, But
to add to the ridiculous farce of that South Carolina notion, when he
remonstrated with them, he was very indifferently told that it was what
they always provided for their work-people.

"Take your' little jebacca-boat and go to thunder with her," said the
captain, commencing to pick up his duds.

"Why, captain, I lent you my gun, and we always expect our captains to
make fresh provision of game as you run up the river," said George.

"Fresh provisions, the devil!" said the captain. "I've enough to do to
mind my duty, without hunting my living as I pursue my voyage, like
a hungry dog. We don't do business on your <DW65>-allowance system in
Maryland." And here we leave him, getting one of the <DW64>s to carry
his things back to his boarding-house.

A few days after the occurrence we have narrated above little Tommy,
somewhat recovered from his cold, shipped on board a little centre-board
schooner, called the Three Sisters, bound to the Edisto River for a
cargo of rice. The captain, a little, stubby man, rather good looking,
and well dressed, was making his maiden voyage as captain of a South
Carolina craft. He was "South Carolina born," but, like many others of
his kind, had been forced to seek his advancement in a distant State,
through the influence of those formidable opinions which exiles the
genius of the poor in South Carolina. For ten years he had sailed out of
the port of Boston, had held the position of mate on two Indian voyages
under the well-known Captain Nott, and had sailed with Captain Albert
Brown, and received his recommendation, yet this was not enough to
qualify him for the nautical ideas of a pompous South Carolinian.

Tommy got his baggage on board, and before leaving, made another attempt
at the jail to see his friend Manuel. He presented himself to the
jailer, and told him how much he wanted to see his old friend before he
left. The jailer's orders were imperative. He was told if he came next
week he would see him; that he would then be released, and allowed to
occupy the cell on the second floor with the other stewards. Recognising
one of the stewards that had joined with them when they enjoyed their
social feelings around the festive barrel, he walked into the piazza to
meet him and bid him good-by. While he stood shaking hands with him, the
poor <DW64>.

The name of this poor fellow was George Fairchild. After being sent
to the workhouse to receive twenty blows with the paddle when he was
scarcely able to stand, he was taken down from the frame and supported
to the jail, where he remained several weeks, fed at a cost of eighteen
cents a day. His crime was "going for whiskey at night," and the third
offence; but there were a variety of pleadings in his favor. His master
worked his <DW64>s to the very last tension of their strength, and
exposed their appetites to all sorts of temptation, especially those who
worked in the night-gang. His master flogged him once, while he was in
the jail, himself, giving him about forty stripes with a raw hide on the
bare back: not satisfying his feelings with this, he concluded to send
him to New Orleans. He had an affectionate wife and child, who were
forbidden to see him. His master ordered that he should be sent to the
workhouse and receive thirty-nine paddles before leaving, and on the
morning he was to be shipped, his distressed wife, hearing the sad news,
came to the jail; but notwithstanding the entreaties of several debtors,
the jailer could not allow her to come in, but granted, as a favor,
that she should speak with him through the grated door. The cries and
lamentations of that poor woman, as she stood upon the outside, holding
her bond-offspring in her arms, taking a last sorrowing farewell of him
who was so dearly cherished and beloved, would have melted a heart of
stone. She could not embrace him, but waited until he was led out to
torture, when she threw her arms around him, and was dragged away by a
ruffian's hand.

Poor George Fairchild! We heard him moaning under the acute pain of the
paddle, and saw him thrust into a cart like a dog, to be shipped as a
bale of merchandise for a distant port, who had suffered with him in the
guard-house came up and saluted him with a friendly recognition. Some
two weeks had passed since the occurrence, and yet his head presented
the effects of bruising, and was bandaged with a cloth. "Good young
massa, do give me a' fo' pence, for Is'e mose starve," he said in a
suppliant tone. Tommy put his hand into his pocket, and drawing out a
quarter, passed it to the poor fellow, and received his thanks. Leaving
a message for Manuel that he would be sure to call and see him when
he returned, he passed from the house of misery and proceeded to his
vessel.

The captain of the schooner had been engaged by parties in Charleston,
who simply acted as agents for the owners. He had been moved to return
to Charleston by those feelings which are so inherent in our nature,
inspiring a feeling for the place of its nativity, and recalling the
early associations of childhood. Each longing fancy pointed back again,
and back he came, to further fortune on his native soil. His crew, with
the exception of Tommy, consisted of three good, active <DW64>s, one of
whom acted as pilot on the Edisto River. Accustomed to the provisioning
of Boston ships, he had paid no attention to his supplies; for, in
fact, he only took charge of the little craft as an accommodation to the
agents, and with the promise of a large vessel as soon as he returned;
and sailing with a fine stiff breeze, he was far outside the light when
the doctor announced dinner. "What have you got that's good, old chap?"
said he to the cook.

"Fust stripe, Massa Cap'en. A right good chance o' homony and bacon
fry," returned the <DW64>.

"Homony and what? Nothing else but that?"

"Why, massa! gracious, dat what Massa Whaley give all he cap'en, an' he
tink 'em fust-rate," said the <DW64>.

As they were the only whites on board, the captain took little Tommy
into the cabin with him to sit at the same table; but there was too much
truth in the <DW64>'s statement, and instead of sitting down to one of
those nice dinners which are spread in Boston ships, both great and
small, there, on a little piece of pine board, swung with a preventer,
was a plate of black homony covered with a few pieces of fried pork, so
rank and oily as to be really repulsive to a common stomach. Beside
it was an earthen mug, containing about a pint of molasses, which was
bedaubed on the outside to show its quality. The captain looked at it
for a minute, and then taking up the iron spoon which stood in it, and
letting one or two spoonfuls drop back, said, "Old daddie, where are all
your stores? Fetch them out here."

"Gih, massa! here 'em is; 'e's jus' as Massa Stoney give 'em," said the
<DW64>, drawing forth a piece of rusty and tainted bacon, weighing about
fifteen pounds, and, in spots, perfectly alive with motion; about a
half-bushel of corn-grits; and a small keg of molasses, with a piece of
leather attached to the bung.

"Is that all?" inquired the captain peremptorily.

"Yes, massa, he all w'at 'em got now, but git more at Massa Whaley
plantation win 'em git da."

"Throw it overboard, such stinking stuff; it'll breed pestilence on
board," said the captain to the <DW64>, (who stood holding the spoiled
bacon in his hand, with the destructive macalia dropping on the floor,)
at the same time applying his foot to the table, and making wreck of
hog, homony, molasses, and plates.

"Gih-e-wh-ew! Massa, I trow 'im o'board, Massa Whaley scratch 'em back,
sartin. He tink 'em fust-rate. Plantation <DW65> on'y gits bacon twice
week, Massa Cap'en," said he, picking up the wreck and carrying it upon
deck, where it was devoured with great gusto by the <DW64>s, who fully
appreciated the happy God-send.

The captain had provided a little private store of crackers, cheese,
segars, and a bottle of brandy, and turning to his trunk, he opened it
and drew them out one by one, passing the crackers and cheese to
Tommy, and imbibing a little of the deacon himself, thus satisfying
the cravings of nature. Night came on; they were crossing the bar and
approaching the outlet of the Edisto, which was broad in sight;
but there was neither coffee nor tea on board, and no prospect of
supper-nothing but a resort to the crackers and cheese remained, the
stock of which had already diminished so fast, that what was left was
treasured among the things too choice to be eaten without limitation.
They reached the entrance, and after ascending a few miles, came to
anchor under a jut of wood that formed a bend in the river. The baying
of dogs during the night intimated the vicinity of a settlement near,
and in the morning the captain sent one of the <DW64>s on shore for a
bottle of milk. "Massa, dat man what live yonder ha'n't much no-how,
alwa's makes 'em pay seven-pence," said the <DW64>. Sure enough it was
true; notwithstanding he was a planter of some property, he made the
smallest things turn to profit, and would charge vessels going up the
river twelve and a half cents per bottle for milk.

The captain had spent a restless night, and found himself blotched with
innumerable chinch-bites; and on examining the berths and lockers, he
found them swarming in piles. Calling one of the black men, he commenced
overhauling them, and drew out a perfect storehouse of rubbish, which
must have been deposited there, without molestation, from the day the
vessel was launched up to the present time, as varied in its kinds as
the stock of a Jew-shop, and rotten with age. About nine o'clock they
got under weigh again, and proceeding about twenty miles with a fair
wind and tide, they came to another point in the river, on which a
concourse of men had assembled, armed to the teeth with guns, rifles,
and knives. As he passed up, they were holding parley with a man and boy
in a canoe a few rods from the shore. At every few minutes they
would point their rifles at him, and with threatening gestures, swear
vengeance against him if he attempted to land. The captain, being
excited by the precarious situation of the man and his boy, and anxious
to ascertain the particulars, let go his anchor and "came to" a few
lengths above.

Scarcely had his anchor brought up than he was hailed from the shore by
a rough-looking man, who appeared to be chief in the manouvre, and who
proved to be no less a personage than a Mr. S--k, a wealthy planter.

"Don't take that man on board of your vessel, at the peril of your life,
captain. He's an abolitionist," said he, accompanying his imperative
command with a very Southern rotation of oaths.

The man paddled his canoe on the outside of the vessel, and begged the
captain "for God's sake to take him on board and protect him; that an
excitement had been gotten up against him very unjustly, and he would
explain the circumstances if he would allow him to come on board."

"Come on board," said the captain. "Let you be abolitionist or what you
will, humanity will not let me see you driven out to sea in that manner;
you would be swamped before you crossed the bar."

He came on board, trembling and wet, the little boy handing up a couple
of carpet-bags, and following him. No sooner had he done so, than three
or four balls whizzed past the captain's head, causing him to retreat to
the cabin. A few minutes intervened, and he returned to the deck.

"Lower your boat and come on shore immediately," they cried out.

The captain, not at all daunted, lowered his boat and went on shore.
"Now, gentlemen, what do you want with me?" said he, when S--k stepped
forward, and the following dialogue ensued:--

"Who owns that vessel, and what right have you to harbor a d--d
abolitionist?"

"I don't know who owns the vessel; I know that I sail her, and the
laws of God and man demand that I shall not pass a man in distress,
especially upon the water. He protests that he is not, and never was
an abolitionist; offers to prove it if you will hear him, and only asks
that you allow him to take away his property," rejoined the captain.

"What! then you are an abolitionist yourself?"

"No, sir. I'm a Southern-born man, raised in Charleston, where my father
was raised before me."

"So much, so good; but just turn that d--d scoundrel ashore as quick
as seventy, or we'll tie your vessel up and report you to the Executive
Committee, and stop your getting on more freight on the Edisto."

"That I shall not do. You should have patience to investigate these
things, and not allow your feelings to become so excited. If I turn
him and his son adrift, I'm answerable for their lives if any accident
should occur to them," rejoined the captain.

"Are you a secessionist, captain, or what are your political principles?
You seem determined to protect abolitionists. That scoundrel has been
associating with a <DW65>, and eating at his house ever since he has
been here."

"Yes, yes, and we'll be d--d if he isn't an abolitionist," joined in
a dozen voices, "for he dined at Bill Webster's last Sunday on a
wild-turkey. Nobody but an infernal abolitionist would dine with a
<DW65>."

"As for politics, I never had much to do with them, and care as little
about secession as I do about theology; but I like to see men act
reasonably. If you want any thing more of me, you will find me at
Colonel Whaley's plantation to-morrow." Thus saying, he stepped into
his boat and returned on board of his vessel. Just as he was getting
under-weigh again, whiz! whiz! whiz! came three shots, one in quick
succession after the other, the last taking effect and piercing the
crown of his hat, at which they retired out of sight. Fearing a return,
he worked his vessel about two miles farther up and came to anchor on
the other side of the channel, where he waited the return of the tide,
and had an opportunity to put his affrighted passengers on board a
schooner that was passing down, bound to Charleston.

The secret of such an outrage is told in a few words. The man was a
timber-getter from the vicinity of New Bedford, Massachusetts, who, with
his son, a lad about sixteen years of age, had spent several winters
in the vicinity of the Edisto, getting live-oak, what he considered
a laudable enterprise. He purchased the timber on the stump of the
inhabitants, at a price which left him very little profit, and had also
been charged an exorbitant price for every thing he got, whether
labor or provisions; and so far had that feeling of South Carolina's
self-sufficiency been carried out against him in all its cold
repulsiveness, that he found much more honesty and true hospitality
under the roof of a poor <DW52> man. This so enraged some of the
planters, that they proclaimed against him, and that mad-dog cry of
abolitionist was raised against him. His horse and buggy, books and
papers were packed up and sent to Charleston-not, however, without
some of the most important of the latter being lost. His business was
destroyed, and he and his child taken by force, put into a little canoe
with one or two carpet-bags, and sent adrift. In this manner they had
followed him two miles down the river, he begging to be allowed
the privilege of settling his business and leave respectably-they
threatening to shoot him if he attempted to near the shore, or was
caught in the vicinity. This was his position when the captain found
him. He proceeded to Charleston, and laid his case before James L.
Petigru, Esq., United States District Attorney, and, upon his advice,
returned to the scene of "war on the banks of the Edisto," to arrange
his business; but no sooner had he made his appearance than he was
thrown into prison, and there remained when we last heard of him.

This is one of the many cases which afford matter for exciting comment
for the editors of the Charleston Mercury and the Courier, and which
reflect no honor on a people who thus set law and order at defiance.




CHAPTER XXVI. A SINGULAR RECEPTION.



IT was about ten o'clock on the night of the fifteenth of April when the
schooner "Three Sisters" lay anchored close alongside of a dark jungle
of clustering brakes that hung their luxuriant foliage upon the bosom
of the stream. The captain sat upon a little box near the quarter,
apparently contemplating the scene, for there was a fairy-like beauty
in its dark windings, mellowed by the shadowing foliage that skirted
its borders in mournful grandeur, while stars twinkled on the sombre
surface.

The tide had just turned, and little Tommy, who had rolled himself up in
a blanket and laid down close to the captain, suddenly arose. "Captain,
did you hear that?" said he.

"Hark! there it is again," said the captain. "Go and call the men,--we
must get under weigh."

It was a rustling noise among the brakes; and when little Tommy went
forward to call the men, two balls came whistling over the quarter, and
then a loud rustling noise indicated that persons were retreating. The
captain retired to the cabin and took Tommy with him, giving orders to
the <DW64> pilot to stand to the deck, get her anchor up, and let her
drift up stream with the tide, determined that if they shot any person,
it should be the <DW64>s, for whose value they would be held answerable.
Thus she drifted up the stream, and the next morning was at the creek at
Colonel Whaley's plantation.

A number of ragged <DW64>s came down to the bank in high glee at the
arrival, and making sundry inquiries about corn and bacon. One old
patriarchal subject cried out to the pilot, "Ah, Cesar, I 'now'd ye wah
cumin'. Massa, an' young Massa Aleck, bin promis' bacon mor' den week,
gess he cum' now."

"Got sum corn, but ven ye gets bacon out o' dis craf' ye kotch wesel,
dat a'n't got no hair on 'im," said Cesar.

The scene around was any thing but promising-disappointing to the
captain's exalted ideas of Colonel Whaley's magnificent plantation. The
old farm-house was a barrack-like building, dilapidated, and showing no
signs of having lately furnished a job for the painter, and standing in
an arena surrounded by an enclosure of rough slats. Close examination
disclosed fragments of gardening in the arena, but they showed the
unmistakable evidences of carelessness. At a short distance from this
was a cluster of dirty-looking <DW64>-huts, raised a few feet from the
ground on palmetto piles, and strung along from them to the brink of the
river were numerous half-starved cattle and hogs, the latter rooting up
the sod.

It was now nearly slack water, on a high flood, and the schooner lay
just above the bend of the creek. Presently a large, portly-looking
man, dressed like as Yorkshire farmer, came, to the bank, and in a
stentorious voice ordered the captain to haul into the creek at once!
The manner in which the order was given rather taxed the captain's
feelings, yet he immediately set his men to work heaving up the anchor
and carrying out "a line" to warp her in. But that slow motion with
which <DW64>s execute all orders, caused some delay, and no sooner had
he, begun to heave on the line than the tide set strong ebb and carried
him upon the lower point, where a strong eddy, made by the receding
water from the creek, and the strong undertow in the river, baffled all
his exertions. There she stuck, and all the warps and tow-lines of a
seventy-four, hove by the combined strength of the plantation, would
not have started her. When the tide left, she careened over toward the
river, for there was no means at hand to shore her up.

One of the drivers went up and reported "Massa captain got 'im ship
ashore," and down came Colonel Whaley, with all the pomp of seven lord
mayors in his countenance. "What sort of a feller are you to command
a ship? I'd whip the worst <DW65> on the plantation, if he couldn't do
better than that. Rig a raft out and let me come o' board that vessel!"
said he, accompanying his demands with a volley of vile imprecations
that would have disgraced St. Giles'.

"Do you know who you're talking to? You mus'n't take me for a <DW65>,
sir! I know my duty, if you don't good manners," rejoined the captain.

"Do you know who owns that ship? you impudent feller, you! Take the
sails off her, immediately-at once! or I'll shoot you, by heavens!" he
bawled out again.

"Why didn't you say mud-scow? Call such a thing as this a ship? I don't
care who owns her, I only know it's a disgrace to sail her; but I've got
the papers, and you may help yourself. When you pay me for my time, and
give me something for myself and these men to eat, you may take your old
jebac--car-boat,--but you don't put a foot aboard her till you do!"

This made the colonel rage worse. "I'll teach you a lesson how you
disobey my orders. Go get my rifle, Zeke," said the colonel, turning to
an old <DW64> who stood close by. And then calling to the men on board,
he ordered them to take charge of the vessel and take the sails off her
at once.

"Don't you move a hand to unbend a sail, Cesar! I don't know that man
ashore there. This vessel is mine until further orders from the persons
who shipped me," rejoined the captain with an imperative demand to his
men.

"Why, la! massa, he own em dis ere vessel, an' he shoot em sartin if we
done do him; ye done know dat massa, as I does," said Cesar.

"Don't touch a hand to those sails, I command one and all of you.
There's two can play at shooting, and I'll shoot you if you disobey my
orders." Then turning to those on shore, he warned them that he would
shoot the first <DW65> that attempted to make a raft to come on board.
The reader will observe that the poor <DW64>s were in a worse dilemma
than the captain; goaded on the one side by a ruthless master, who
claims ownership and demands the execution of his orders, while on
the other extreme the hired master proclaims his right, and warns
them against the peril of varying one iota from his commands. Here the
clashing feelings of arbitrary men come together, which have placed many
a good <DW64> in that complex position, that he would be punished by one
master for doing that which he would have been punished by the other if
he had left undone.

It may be said to the colonel's credit, he did not return, rifle in
hand, nor did the captain see him afterward; but a young gentleman, a
son, who represented the father, came to the bank about an hour after
the occurrence, and making a lame apology for his father's temper,
requested the captain to come on shore. The latter had concluded to
await the return of the tide, run the vessel back to Charleston, report
his reception, and deliver the vessel up to the agents; but on further
consideration, there was nothing to eat on board, and what could he do?
He went on shore, and held a parley with the young man, whom he found
much more inclined to respect his color. "Your father took me for a
<DW65>, and as such he presumed upon the dignity of his plantation. Now
I know my duty, and have sailed in the finest ships and with the best
masters in the country. All I want is proper respect, something to eat,
what there is coming to me, and my passage paid back to Charleston by
land. No! I will not even request so much as that; give me something to
eat, and my passage to Charleston, and you may do what you please with
the vessel, but I shall deliver the papers to nobody but the persons who
shipped me. And I shall want you to see this little boy attended to, for
he's quite sick now," said the captain, pointing to Tommy, and calling
him to him.

"Oh yes," replied the young man, "we'll take care of the little fellow,
and see him sent safely back," and took leave, promising to have another
interview in the afternoon. About twelve o'clock a <DW64> boy came to the
vessel with a tin pan covered with a towel, and presenting it to Cesar,
for "massa cap'en and buckra boy." Cesar brought it aft and set it upon
the companion. It contained some rice, a piece of bacon, corn-cake, and
three sweet-potatoes.

"Coarse fare, but I can get along with it. Come Tommy, I guess you're
hungry, as well as myself," said the captain, and they sat down, and
soon demolished the feast of Southern hospitality. About five o'clock in
the evening, the young man not making his appearance, the Captain sent
Tommy ashore to inquire for him at the house, telling him (in order
to test their feelings) that he could stop and get his supper. Tommy
clambered ashore, and up the bank wending his way to the house. The
young man made his appearance, offering an apology for his delay and
inattention, saying the presence of some very particular friends from
Beaufort was the cause. "My father, you are aware, owns this vessel,
captain!--You got a good dinner, to-day, by-the-by," said he.

"Yes, we got along with it, but could have eaten more," rejoined the
captain.

"Ah! bless me, that was the <DW65>'s fault. These <DW65>s are such
uncertain creatures, you must watch 'em over the least thing. Well now,
captain, my father has sent you five dollars to pay your passage to
Charleston!"

"Well, that's a small amount, but I'll try and get along with it, rather
than stop here, at any rate," said the captain, taking the bill and
twisting it into his pocket, and giving particular charges in regard
to taking care of the boy. That night, a little after sundown, he took
passage in a downward-bound coaster, bid a long good-by to the Edisto
and Colonel Whaley's plantation, and arrived in Charleston the next
night. On the following morning he presented himself to the agents, who
generously paid him, all his demands, and expressed their regrets at the
circumstance. Acting upon the smart of feeling, the captain enclosed the
five-dollar bill and returned it to the sovereign Colonel Whaley.

The Savannah Republican, of the 11th September, says-"We have been
kindly furnished with the particulars of a duel which came off at Major
Stark's plantation, opposite this city, yesterday morning, between
Colonel E. M. Whaley, and E. E. Jenkins, of South Carolina." Another
paper stated that "after a single exchange of shot, * * * * the affair
terminated, but without a reconciliation." The same Colonel Whaley!
Either 'of these journals might have give particulars more grievous,
and equally as expressive of Southern life. They might have described
a beautiful wife, a Northern lady, fleeing with her two children,
to escape the abuses of a faithless husband-taking shelter in the
Charleston Hotel, and befriended by Mr. Jenkins and another young man,
whose name we shall not mention-and that famous establishment surrounded
by the police on a Sabbath night, to guard its entrances-and she dragged
forth, and carried back to the home of unhappiness.




CHAPTER XXVII. THE HABEAS CORPUS.



THE Captain of the Janson had settled his business, and was anxious
to return home. He had done all in his power for Manuel, and
notwithstanding the able exertions of the consul were combined with his,
he had effected nothing to relieve him. The law was imperative, and if
followed out, there was no alternative for him, except upon the ground
of his proving himself entitled to a white man's privileges. To do
this would require an endless routine of law, which would increase his
anxiety and suffering twofold. Mr. Grimshaw had been heard to say, that
if an habeas corpus were sued out, he should stand upon the technicality
of an act of the legislature, refuse to answer the summons or give the
man up. No, he would himself stand the test upon the point of right to
the habeas corpus, and if he was committed for refusing to deliver up
the prisoner, he would take advantage of another act of the legislature,
and after remaining a length of time in jail, demand his release
according to the statutes. So far was Mr. Grimshaw impressed with his
own important position in the matter, and of the course which he should
pursue, that he several times told the prisoners that he should be a
prisoner among them in a few days, to partake of the same fare.

Judge Withers, however, saved him the necessity of such important
trouble. To those acquainted with Judge Withers it would be needless to
dwell upon the traits of his character. To those who are not, we can
say that his were feelings founded upon interest-moving in the foremost
elements of secession-arbitrary, self-willed, and easily swayed by
prejudice-a man known to the public and the bar for his frigidity, bound
in his own opinions, and yielding second to the wishes and principles of
none-fearful of his popularity as a judge, yet devoid of those sterling
principles which deep jurists bring to their aid when considering
important questions, where life or liberty is at stake-a mind that
would rather reinstate monarchy than spread the blessings of a free
government. What ground have we here to hope for a favorable issue?

Thus when the consul applied for the writ of habeas corpus, the right
was denied him, notwithstanding the subject was heir-inherent to all the
rights of citizenship and protection, which the laws of his own nation
could clothe him with. To show how this matter was treated by the
press-though we are happy to say the feelings of the mercantile
community are not reflected in it-we copy the leader from the "Southern
Standard," a journal published in Charleston, the editor of which
professes to represent the conservative views of a diminutive minority.
Here it is:--

"CHARLESTON, APRIL 23, 1852. " Seamen and State Rights.

"Our readers have not forgotten the correspondence which some time
since took place between His Excellency Governor Means and Her British
Majesty's Consul, Mr. Mathew. We published in the Standard, of the 5th
December last, the very temperate, dignified, and well-argued report of
Mr. Mazyck, chairman of the special committee of the Senate, to whom
had been referred the message of the Governor, transmitting the
correspondence. In our issue of the 16th December, we gave to our
readers the able report of Mr. McCready, on behalf of the committee of
the other house, on the same subject.

"We have now to call the attention of the public to the fact, that the
practical issue has been made, by which the validity of the laws in
regard to  seamen arriving in our port is to be submitted to the
judicial tribunals of the country. For ourselves we have no fears for
the credit of the State in such a controversy. The right of the State
to control, by her own legislation, the whole subject-matter, can, as we
think, by a full discussion, be established upon a basis which, in the
South at least, will never hereafter be questioned. If there be defects
in the details of the regulations enacted, the consideration of them is
now precluded, when the issue presented is the right of the State to act
at all times in the premises.

"The writ of habeas corpus was applied for before Judge Withers, during
the term of the court which has just closed, by the British consul,
through his counsel, Mr. Petigru, in behalf of one Manuel Pereira,
a  sailor, who claims to be a Portuguese subject, articled to
service on board an English brig driven into this port by stress of
weather; the said Manuel Pereira being then in jail under the provisions
of the act of the legislature of this State, passed in 1835, emendatory
of the previous acts on the subject. Judge Withers, in compliance with
the requirements of the act of 1844, refused the writ of habeas corpus,
and notice of appeal has been given. Thus is the issue upon us.

"We have but one regret in the matter, and that is that the case made is
one where the party asking his liberty has been driven into our harbor
involuntarily. Great Britain, it is true, is the last power which
should complain on this account, with her own example in the case of the
Enterprise before her eyes; but we do not, we confess, like this feature
of the law. We have no doubt, however, that this fact being brought to
the notice of the executive, he will interfere promptly to release the
individual in the present case, provided the party petitions for the
purpose, and engages at once to leave the State. But we shall see
nothing of this. Mr. Manuel Pereira, like another John Wilkes, is to
have settled in his person great questions of constitutional liberty.
The posterity which in after times shall read of his voluntary martyrdom
and heroic self-sacrifice in the cause of suffering humanity, must be
somewhat better informed than Mr. Pereira himself; for we observe that
his clerkly skill did not reach the point of enabling him to subscribe
his name to the petition for habeas corpus, which is to figure so
conspicuously in future history, it being more primitively witnessed by
his 'mark.'"

An appeal was taken from this refusal, and carried before the appeal
court, sitting at Columbia, the capital of the State. How was this
treated? Without enlisting common respect, it sustained the opinion
of Judge Withers, who was one of its constituted members. Under such a
state of things, where all the avenues to right and justice were clogged
by a popular will that set itself above law or justice, where is the
unprejudiced mind that will charge improper motives in asking justice of
the highest judicial tribunal in the country.

In the year 1445, a petition was presented, or entered on the rolls of
the British Parliament, from the commons of two neighboring counties,
praying the abatement of a nuisance which promised fearful interruptions
to the peace and quiet of their hamlets, in consequence of the number of
attorneys having increased from eight to twenty-four, setting forth that
attorneys were dangerous to the peace and happiness of a community, and
praying that there should be no more than six attorneys for each county.
The king granted the petition, adding a clause which left it subject
to the approval of the judges. Time works mighty contrasts. If those
peaceable old commoners could have seen a picture of the nineteenth
century, with its judiciary dotted upon the surface, they would
certainly have put the world down as a very unhappy place. The people
of Charleston might now inquire why they have so much law and so little
justice?




CHAPTER XXVIII. THE CAPTAIN'S DEPARTURE AND MANUEL'S RELEASE.



AFTER remaining nearly three weeks in close confinement in a cell on
the third story, Manuel was allowed to come down and resume his position
among the stewards, in the "steward's cell." There was a sad change of
faces. But one of those he left was there; and he, poor fellow, was so
changed as to be but a wreck of what he was when Manuel was confined in
the cell.

After little Tommy left, the Captain deposited a sum of money with
the jailer to supply Manuel's wants. The jailer performed his duty
faithfully, but the fund was soon exhausted, and Manuel was forced to
appeal to his consul. With the care for its citizens that marks the
course of that government, and the characteristic kindness of its
representative in Charleston, the appeal was promptly responded to.
The consul attended him in person, and even provided from his own purse
things necessary to make him comfortable. We could not but admire the
nobleness of many acts bestowed upon this humble citizen through the
consul, showing the attachment and faith of a government to its humblest
subject. The question now was, would the Executive release him? Mr.
Grimshaw had interposed strong objections, and made unwarrantable
statements in regard to his having been abandoned by his captain,
the heavy expenses incurred to maintain the man, and questioning the
validity of the British consul's right to protect him. Under the effect
of these representations, the prospect began to darken, and Manuel
became more discontented, and anxiously awaited the result.

In this position, a petition was despatched to the Executive, asking
that the man might be released, on the faith of the British Government
that all expenses be paid, and he immediately sent beyond the limits of
the State.

But we must return and take leave of Captain Thompson, before we receive
the answer to the petition. The day fixed for his departure had arrived.
He had all his papers collected, and arose early to take his accustomed
walk through the market. It was a little after seven o'clock, and as he
approached the singular piece of wood-work that we have described in
a previous chapter as the Charleston Whipping-post, he saw a crowd
collected around it, and <DW64>s running to the scene, crying out,
"Buckra gwine to get whip! buckra get 'e back scratch!" &c. &c. He
quickened his pace, and, arriving at the scene, elbowed his way through
an immense crowd until he came to where he had a fair view. Here,
exposed to view, were six respectably dressed white men, to be whipped
according to the laws of South Carolina, which flog in the market
for petty theft. Five of them were chained together, and the other
scientifically secured to the machine, with his bare back exposed,
and Mr. Grimshaw (dressed with his hat and sword of office to make the
dignity of the punishment appropriate) laying on the stripes with a big
whip, and raising on tip-toe at each blow to add force, making the flesh
follow the lash. Standing around were about a dozen huge constables
with long-pointed tipstaffs in their hands, while two others assisted
in chaining and unchaining the prisoners. The spectacle was a barbarous
one, opening a wide field for reflection. It was said that this
barbarous mode of punishment was kept up as an example for the <DW64>s.
It certainly is a very singular mode of inspiring respect for the laws.

He had heard much of T. Norman Gadsden, whose fame sounded for being the
greatest <DW64>-seller in the country, yet he had not seen him, though he
had witnessed several <DW64>-sales at other places. On looking over the
papers after breakfast, his eye caught a flaming advertisement with "T.
Norman Gadsden's sale of <DW64>s" at the head. There were plantation
<DW64>s, coachmen, house-servants, mechanics, children of all ages, with
descriptions as various as the kinds. Below the rest, and set out with
a glowing delineation, was a description of a remarkably fine young
sempstress, very bright and very intelligent, sold for no fault. The
notice should have added an exception, that the owner was going to get
married.

He repaired to the place at the time designated, and found them selling
an old plantation-<DW64>, dressed in ragged, gray clothes, who, after a
few bids, was knocked down for three hundred and fifty dollars. "We will
give tip-top titles to everything we sell here to-day; and, gentlemen,
we shall now offer you the prettiest wench in town. She is too
well-known for me to say more," said the notorious auctioneer.

A number of the first citizens were present, and among them the Captain
recognised Colonel S--, who approached and began to descant upon the
sale of the woman. "It's a d--d shame to sell that girl, and that fellow
ought to be hung up," said he, meaning the owner; and upon this he
commenced giving a history of the poor girl.

"Where is she? Bring her along! Lord! gentlemen, her very curls are
enough to start a bid of fifteen hundred," said the auctioneer.

"Go it, Gadsden, you're a trump," rejoined a number of voices.

The poor girl moved to the stand, pale and trembling, as if she was
stepping upon the scaffold, and saw her executioners around her. She was
very fair and beautiful-there was something even in her graceful motions
that enlisted admiration. Here she stood almost motionless for a few
moments.

"Gentlemen, I ought to charge all of you sevenpence a sight for looking
at her," said the auctioneer. She smiled at the remark, but it was the
smile of pain.

"Why don't you sell the girl, and not be dogging her feelings in this
manner?" said Colonel S--.

Bids continued in rapid succession from eleven hundred up to thirteen
hundred and forty. A well-known trader from New Orleans stood behind
one of the city brokers, motioning him at every bid, and she was knocked
down to him. We learned her history and know the sequel.

The Captain watched her with mingled feelings, and would fain have said,
"Good God! and why art thou a slave?"

The history of that unfortunate beauty may be comprehended in a few
words, leaving the reader to draw the details from his imagination. Her
mother was a fine mulatto slave, with about a quarter Indian blood. She
was the mistress of a celebrated gentleman in Charleston, who ranked
among the first families, to whom she bore three beautiful children, the
second of which is the one before us. Her father, although he could not
acknowledge her, prized her highly, and unquestionably never intended
that she should be considered a slave. Alice, for such was her name,
felt the shame of her position. She knew her father, and was proud to
descant upon his honor and rank, yet must either associate with <DW64>s
or nobody, for it would be the death of caste for a white woman, however
mean, to associate with her. At the age of sixteen she became attached
to a young gentleman of high standing but moderate means, and lived
with him as his mistress. Her father, whose death is well known, died
suddenly away from home. On administering on his estate, it proved that
instead of being wealthy, as was supposed, he was insolvent, and the
creditors insisting upon the children being sold. Alice was purchased
by compromise with the administrator, and retained by her lord under a
mortgage, the interest and premium on which he had regularly paid for
more than four years. Now that he was about to get married, the excuse
of the mortgage was the best pretext in the world to get rid of her.

The Captain turned from the scene with feelings that left deep
impressions upon his mind, and that afternoon took his departure for his
Scottish home.

Time passed heavily at the jail, and day after day Manuel awaited his
fate with anxiety. At every tap of the prison-bell he would spring to
the door and listen, asserting that he heard the consul's voice in every
passing sound. Day after day the consul would call upon him and quiet
his fears, reassuring him that he was safe and should not be sold as
a slave. At length, on the seventeenth day of May, after nearly two
months' imprisonment, the glad news was received that Manuel Pereira
was not to be sold, according to the statutes, but to be released upon
payment of all costs, &c. &c., and immediately sent beyond the limits
of the State. We leave it to the reader's fancy, to picture the scene of
joy on the reception of the news in the "stewards' cell."

The consul lost no time in arranging his affairs for him, and at five
o'clock on the afternoon of the 17th of May, 1852, Manuel Pereira,
a poor, shipwrecked mariner, who, by the dispensation of an all-wise
Providence, was cast upon the shores of South Carolina, and imprisoned
because hospitality to him was "contrary to law," was led forth, pale
and emaciated, by two constables, thrust into a closely covered vehicle,
and driven at full speed to the steamboat then awaiting to depart for
New York. This is but a faint glimpse, of the suffering to which 
stewards are subjected in the Charleston jail.

There were no less than sixty-three cases of  seamen imprisoned
on this charge of "contrary to law," during the calendar year ending
on the twelfth of September, 1852. And now that abuses had become so
glaring, a few gentlemen made a representation of the wretched prison
regimen to his Excellency, Governor Means, who, as if just awoke from
a dream that had lasted a generation, addressed a letter to the
Attorney-General, dated on the seventh of September, 1852, requesting a
statement in regard to the jail-how many prisoners there were confined
on the twelfth day of September, under sentence and awaiting trial,
the nature of offences, who committed by, and how long they had awaited
trial; what the cost of the jail was, how much was paid by prisoners,
and how much by the State, &c. &c. In that statement, the number of
 seamen was, for reasons best known to Mr. Grimshaw, kept out of
the statement; so also was the difference between thirty cents and eight
cents a day, paid for the ration for each man. The real statement showed
a bounty to the sheriff of fourteen hundred and sixty-three dollars on'
the provisions alone-a sad premium upon misery. Now add to this a medium
amount for each of these sixty-three sailors, and we have between eight
and nine hundred dollars more, which, with sundry jail-fees and other
cribbage-money, makes the Charleston jail a nice little appendage to
the sheriff's office, and will fully account for the tenacity with which
those functionaries cling to the "old system."

We conclude the bills by giving Manuel's as it stands upon the
books:--"Contrary to law." British brig "Janson," Capt. Thompson. For
Manuel Pereira,  Seaman. 1852. To Sheriff of Charleston District.

May 15th. To Arrest, $2; Register, $2, $4.00" "Recog., $1.31; Constable,
$1, 2.31" "Commitment and Discharge, 1.00" "52 Days' Maintenance of
Manuel Pereira, at 30 cents per day, 15.60

$22.81 Rec' payment, J. D--, S. C. D. Per Chs. Kanapeaux, Clerk.

This amount is exclusive of all the long scale of law charges and
attorney's fees that were incurred, and is entirely the perquisite of
the sheriff.

Now, notwithstanding that high-sounding clamor about the laws of
South Carolina, which every South Carolinian, in the redundance of his
feelings, strives to impress you with the sovereignty of its justice,
its sacred rights, and its pre-eminent reputation, we never were in a
country or community where the privileges of a certain class were so
much abused. Every thing is made to conserve popular favor, giving to
those in influence power to do what they please with a destitute class,
whether they be white or black. Official departments are turned into
depots for miserable espionage, where the most unjust schemes are
practised upon those whose voices cannot be heard in their own defence.
A magistrate is clothed with, or assumes a power that is almost
absolute, committing them without a hearing, and leaving them to waste
in jail; then releasing them before the court sits, and charging the
fees to the State; or releasing the poor prisoner on receiving "black
mail" for the kindness; giving one man a peace-warrant to oppress
another whom he knows cannot get bail; and where a man has served
out the penalty of the crime for which he was committed, give a
peace-warrant to his adversary that he may continue to vent his spleen
upon him. In this manner, we have known a man who had served seven
months' imprisonment for assault and battery, by an understanding
between the magistrate and the plaintiff, continued in jail for several
years upon a peace-warrant, issued by the magistrate from time to time,
until at length he shot himself in jail. The man was a peaceable man,
and of a social temperament. He had been offered the alternative of
leaving the State, but he scorned to accept it. To show that we are
correct in what we say respecting some of the Charleston officials, we
insert an article which appeared in the Charleston Courier of Sept. 1,
1852:--[For the Courier.]

"Many of the quiet and moral portion of our community can form no
adequate conception of the extent to which those who sell liquor,
and otherwise trade with our slaves, are now plying their illegal
and demoralizing traffic. At no period within our recollection has it
prevailed to such an alarming extent; at no period has its influence
upon our slave population been more palpable or more dangerous; at no
period has the municipal administration been so wilfully blind to these
corrupt practices, or so lenient and forgiving when such practices are
exposed."

* * * *

"We have heard it intimated that when General Schnierle is a candidate
for the mayoralty, they are regularly assessed for means to defray the
expenses of the canvass. Instances are not wanting where amounts of
money are paid monthly to General Schnierle's police as a reward for
shutting their eyes and closing their lips when unlawful proceedings are
in progress. We have at this moment in our possession a certificate from
a citizen, sworn to before Mr. Giles, the magistrate, declaring that he,
the deponent, heard one of the city police-officers (Sharlock) make a
demand for money upon one of these shop-keepers, and promised that if
he would pay him five dollars at stated intervals, 'none of the
police-officers would trouble him.' This affidavit can be seen, if
inquired for, at this office. Thus bribery is added to guilt, and those
who should enforce the laws are made auxiliaries in their violation.
Said one of these slave-destroyers to us, 'General Schnierle suits us
very well. I have no trouble with General Schnierle'--remarks at once
repugnant and suggestive. * * * We are told by one, that Mr. Hutchinson,
when in power, fined him heavily (and, as he thought, unjustly)
for selling liquor to a slave; hence he would not vote for him. An
additional reason for this animosity toward Mr. Hutchinson arises from
the fact that the names of offenders were always published during that
gentleman's administration, while under that of General Schnierle they
are screened from public view. On any Sunday evening, light may be seen
in the shops of these dealers. If the passer-by will for a few moments
stay his course, he will witness the ingress and egress of <DW64>s; if
he approach the door, he will hear noise as of card-playing and revelry
within. And this is carried on unblushingly; is not confined to a shop
here and a shop there, but may be observed throughout the city. The
writer of this article, some Sundays since, witnessed from his upper
window a scene of revelry and gambling in one of these drinking-shops,
which will scarcely be credited. A party of <DW64>s were seen around
a card-table, with money beside them, engaged in betting; glasses
of liquor were on the table, from which they ever and anon regaled
themselves with all the nonchalance and affected mannerism of the most
fashionable blades of the beau monde.

"This may not be a 'desecration of the Sabbath' by the municipal
authorities themselves, but they are assuredly responsible for its
profanation. Appointed to guard the public morals, they are assuredly
censurable if licentiousness is suffered to run its wild career
unnoticed and unchecked. We do not ask to be believed. We would prefer
to have skeptical rather than credulous readers. We should prefer that
all would arise from the perusal of this article in doubt, and determine
to examine for themselves. We believe in the strength and sufficiency of
ocular proof, and court investigation.

* * *

"We are abundantly repaid if we succeed in arousing public attention to
the alarming and dangerous condition of our city. * * * Let inquiry be
entered into. We boldly challenge it. It will lead to other and more
astonishing developments than those we have revealed. (Signed)

"A RESPONSIBLE CITIZEN."




CHAPTER XXIX. MANUEL'S ARRIVAL IN NEW YORK.



WHEN we left Manuel, he was being hurried on board the steamship, as if
he was a bale of infected goods. Through the kindness of the clerk in
the consul's office, he was provided with a little box of stores to
supply his wants on the passage, as it was known that he would have to
"go forward." He soon found himself gliding over Charleston bar, and
took a last look of what to him had been the city of injustice. On the
afternoon of the second day, he was sitting upon the forward deck
eating an orange that had been given to him by the steward of the ship,
probably as a token of sympathy for his sickly appearance, when a number
of passengers, acting upon the information of the clerk of the ship,
gathered around him. One gentleman from Philadelphia, who seemed to take
more interest in the man than any other of the passengers, expressed his
indignation in no measured terms, that such a man should be imprisoned
as a slave. "Take care," said a bystander, "there's a good many
Southerners on board."

"I don't care if every slaveholder in the South was on board, holding
a knife at my throat; I'm on the broad ocean, where God spreads the
breezes of freedom that man cannot enslave," said he, sitting down
beside Manuel, and getting him to recount the details of his shipwreck
and imprisonment. The number increased around him, and all listened with
attention until he had concluded. One of the spectators asked him if
he would have something good to eat? but he declined, pulling out the
little box that the consul had sent him, and, opening it before them,
showed it to be well-stored with little delicacies.

The Philadelphian motioned that they take up a subscription for him, and
almost simultaneously took his hat off and began to pass it around;
but Manuel, mistaking the motive, told them that he never yet sought
charity-that the consul had paid him his wages, and he had money enough
to get home. But if he did not accept their contributions, he had their
sympathies and their good wishes, which were more prized by him, because
they were contrasted with the cold hospitality he had suffered in
Charleston.

On the morning of the twentieth he arrived in New York. Here things wore
a different aspect. There were no constables fettering him with irons,
aggravating his feelings, and dragging him to a miseerable cell overrun
with vermin. He had no scientific ordeal of the statutes to pass
through, requiring the measure of his form and features; and he was a
man again, with life and liberty, and the dark dread of the oppressor's
power far from him. He went to his comfortable boarding-house, and laid
his weary limbs down to rest, thanking God that he could now sleep
in peace, and awake to liberty. His system was so reduced that he was
unable to do duty, although he was anxious to proceed on his way to join
the old owners, but wanted to work his way in the capacity of steward.
Thus he remained in New York more than four weeks, gaining vigor and
strength, and with a lingering hope that he should meet his little
companion.

On the twenty-first of June, being well recruited, he sailed for
Liverpool, and after a remarkably calm passage of thirty-four days,
arrived in the Mersey, and in forty-eight hours more the ship was safely
within the Princess' Dock, and all hands ready to go on shore. In the
same dock was a ship taking in cargo and passengers for Charleston,
South Carolina. Manuel went on board, and found, in conversation with
the steward, that she had sailed from that port on the 23d of May. A
short conversation disclosed that they had been old shipmates from the
Thames, on board of the Indiaman, Lord William Bentick, and were on
board of that ship when an unfortunate circumstance occurred to her on
entering a British North American port, many years ago. Here they sat
recounting the many adventures through which they had passed since
that period, the ships they had sailed in, the sufferings they had gone
through, and the narrow escapes they had had for their lives, until past
midnight. Manuel wound up by giving a detailed account of his sufferings
in Charleston.

"What!" said the steward of the Charleston ship, "then you must have
known our cabin-boy, he belonged to the same vessel!"

"What was his name?" inquired Manuel.

"Tommy Ward! and as nice a little fellow as ever served the cabin; poor
little fellow, we could hardly get him across."

"Gracious! that's my Tommy," said Manuel. "Where is he? He loves me as
he does his life, and would run to me as a child would to its father.
Little as he is, he has been a friend through my severest trials, and a
companion in my pleasures."

"Ah, poor child! I'm afraid you wouldn't know him now. He has suffered
much since you saw him."

"Is he not aboard? Where can I find him?" inquired Manuel, hastily.

"No, he is not aboard; he is at the hospital in Dennison street. Go
there to-morrow, and you will find him."




CHAPTER XXX. THE SCENE OF ANGUISH.



WE are sorry, that having traced the details of our narrative as they
occurred, without adding for dramatic effect, we are constrained to
conclude with a picture at once painful and harrowing to the feelings.
We do this that we may be sustained by records, in what we have stated,
rather than give one of those more popular conclusions which restore
happiness and relieve the reader's feelings.

Manuel retired to his berth, full of meditation. His little companion
was before him, pictured in his child-like innocence and playfulness. He
saw him in the youthful zeal and freshness of the night when he brought
the well-laden haversack into his dreary cell, and which kind act was
repaid by a night of suffering in the guard-house. There was too much of
life and buoyancy in the picture his imagination called up, to reconcile
the belief that any thing serious had befallen him; and yet the man
spoke in a manner that aroused the intensity of his feelings. It was a
whisper full of fearful forebodings, and filled his mind with anxious
expectation. He could not sleep-the anxiety of his feelings had
awakened a nervvous restlessness that awaited the return of morning with
impatience.

Morning came. He proceeded to the hospital and rang the bell. An aged
gentleman came to the door, and to his questions about Tommy being
there, answered in the affirmative, and called an attendant to show him
the ward in which the little sufferer lay. He followed the attendant,
and after ascending several flights of stairs and following a dark,
narrow passage nearly to its end, was shown into a small, single-room on
the right. The result was suggestive in the very atmosphere, which had
a singular effect upon the senses. The room, newly-whitewashed, was
darkened by a green curtain tacked over the frame of the window.
Standing near the window were two wooden-stools and a little table, upon
which burned the faint light of a small taper, arranged in a cup of oil,
and shedding its feeble flickers on the evidences of a sick-chamber.
There, on a little, narrow cot, lay the death-like form of his once
joyous companion, with the old nurse sitting beside him, watching his
last pulsation. Her arm encircled his head, while his raven locks curled
over his forehead, and shadowed the beauty of innocence even in death.

"Is he there? is he there?" inquired Manuel in a low tone. At the same
time a low, gurgling noise sounded in his ears. The nurse started to
her feet as if to inquire for what he came. "He is my companion-my
companion," said Manuel.

It was enough. The woman recognised the object of the little sufferer's
anxiety. "Ah! it is Manuel. How often he has called that name for the
last week!" said she.

He ran to the bedside and grasped his little fleshless hand as it lay
upon the white sheet, bathing his cold brow with kisses of grief. Life
was gone-the spirit had winged its way to the God who gave it. Thus
closed the life of poor Tommy Ward. He died as one resting in a calm
sleep, far from the boisterous sound of the ocean's tempest, with God's
love to shield his spirit in another and brighter world.




CONCLUSION.



IN a preceding chapter, we left the poor boy on the plantation of
Colonel Whaley, affected by a pulmonary disease, the seeds of which were
planted on the night he was confined in the guard-house, and the signs
of gradual decay evinced their symptoms. After Captain Williams--for
such was the name of the captain of the Three Sisters--left the
plantation, no person appeared to care for him, and on the second day he
was attacked with a fever, and sent to one of the <DW64> cabins, where an
old mulatto woman took care of him and nursed him as well as her scanty
means would admit. The fever continued for seven days, when he
became convalescent and able to walk out; but feeling that he was an
incumbrance to those around him, he packed his clothes into a little
bundle and started for Charleston on foot. He reached that city after
four days' travelling over a heavy, sandy road, subsisting upon the
charity of poor <DW64>s, whom he found much more ready to supply his
wants than the opulent planters. One night he, was compelled to make
a pillow of his little bundle, and lay down in a corn-shed, where the
planter, aroused by the noise of his dogs, which were confined in a
kennel, came with a lantern and two <DW64>s and discovered him. At first
he ordered him off, and threatened to set the dogs upon him if he
did not instantly comply with the order; but his miserable appearance
affected the planter, and before he had gone twenty rods one of the
<DW64>s overtook him, and said his master had sent him to bring him
back. He returned, and the <DW64> made him a coarse bed in his cabin, and
gave him some homony and milk.

His hopes to see Manuel had buoyed him up through every fatigue, but
when he arrived, and was informed at the jail that Manuel had left three
days before, his disappointment was extreme. A few days after he shipped
as cabin-boy on board a ship ready for sea and bound to Liverpool.
Scarcely half-way across, he was compelled to resign himself to the
sick-list. The disease had struck deep into his system, and was rapidly
wasting him away. The sailors, one by one in turns, watched over him
with tenderness and care. As soon as the ship arrived, he was sent
to the hospital, and there he breathed his last as Manuel entered the
sick-chamber. We leave Manuel and a few of his shipmates following his
remains to the last resting-place of man.




APPENDIX.

SINCE the foregoing was written, Governor Means, in his message to the
Legislature of South Carolina, refers to the laws under which "
seamen" are imprisoned. We make the subjoined extract, showing that
he insists upon its being continued in force, on the ground of
"self-preservation"--a right which ship-owners will please regard for
the protection of their own interests:--

"I feel it my duty to call your attention to certain proceedings
which have grown out of the enforcement of that law of our State which
requires the Sheriff of Charleston to seize and imprison  seamen
who are brought to that port. You will remember that the British Consul
addressed a communication to the legislature in December, 1850, on the
subject of a modification of this law. A committee was appointed by
the House and Senate to report upon it at the next session of the
legislature. These committees reported adverse to any modification. On
the 24th March, 1852, Manuel Pereira was imprisoned in accordance with
the law alluded to. The vessel in which he sailed was driven into the
port of Charleston in distress. This was looked upon as a favorable case
upon which to make an issue, as so strong an element of sympathy was
connected with it. Accordingly, a motion was made before Judge
Withers for a writ of 'habeas corpus,' which was refused by him. These
proceedings were instituted by the British Consul, it is said, under
instructions from his government, to test the constitutionality of
the Act. I think it here proper to state, that Pereira was at perfect
liberty to depart at any moment that he could get a vessel to transport
him beyond the limits of the State. In truth, in consideration of the
fact that his coming into the State was involuntary, the Sheriff of
Charleston, with his characteristic kindness, procured for him a place
in a ship about to sail for Liverpool. Early in April, Pereira was
actually released, and on his way to the ship, having himself signed the
shipping articles, when, by interposition of the British Consul, he was
again consigned to the custody of the sheriff. A few days after this,
the British Consul insisted no longer on his detention, but voluntarily
paid his passage to New York. This was looked upon as an abandonment of
that case. The statement of Mr. Yates, together with the letter of the
British Consul, are herewith transmitted.

"While these proceedings were pending, the Sheriff of Charleston had
my instructions not to give up the prisoners even if a writ of habeas
corpus had been granted. I considered that the 'Act of 1844,' entitled,
'An Act more effectually to prevent <DW64>s and other persons of color
from entering into this State, and for other purposes,' made it my duty
to do so.

"On the 19th May, Reuben Roberts, a  seaman, a native of Nassau,
arrived in the steamer Clyde, from Baracoa. The Sheriff of Charleston,
in conformity with the law of the State, which has been in force
since 1823, arrested and lodged him in the district jail, where he was
detained until the 26th of May, when, the Clyde being ready to sail,
Roberts was put on board, and sailed the same day.

"On the 9th of June, a writ in trespass, for assault and false
imprisonment, from the Federal Court, was served upon Sheriff Yates,
laying the damage at $4000.

"The Act of 1844, I take it, was intended to prevent all interference
on the part of any power on the face of the earth, with the execution of
this police regulation, which is so essential to the peace and safety of
our community. Had the legislature which passed it ever dreamed that the
sheriff was to be subjected to the annoyance of being dragged before the
Federal Court for doing his duty under a law of the State, I am sure it
would have provided for his protection. As no such provision has been
made for so unexpected a contingency, I recommend that you so amend this
Act of 1844, that it may meet any case that may arise.

"It is certainly wrong to tolerate this interference with the
laws enacted for the protection of our institution. In the general
distribution of power between the Federal and State Governments, the
right to make their own police regulations was clearly reserved to
the States. In fact, it is nothing more nor less than the right of
self-preservation-a right which is above all constitutions, and above
all laws, and one which never was, nor never will be, abandoned by a
people who are worthy to be free. It is a right which has never yet been
attempted to be denied to any people, except to us.

"The complaint against this law is very strange, and the attempt to
bring us in conflict with the General Government on account of it, is
still more remarkable; when, so far from its being at variance with the
laws of the United States, it is only requiring the State authorities to
enforce an Act of Congress, approved February 28th, 1803, entitled, An
Act to prevent the importation of certain persons into certain States,
where, by the laws thereof, their importation is prohibited. By
referring to this Act, you will see that the plaintiff in the action
alluded to was prohibited by it from entering into this State. I deem
it unnecessary, however, to enter fully into the argument. If any doubt
should be entertained by you, as to its constitutionality, I beg leave
to refer to the able opinion of the Hon. J. McPherson Berrien, delivered
at the time he was Attorney-General of the United States, which I
herewith send you.

"On the subject of the modification of this law, I am free to say,
that when Her B. M.'s Government, through its consul, made a respectful
request to our legislature to that effect, I was anxious that it should
be made. It was with pleasure that I transmitted his first communication
to the last legislature. I would have made a recommendation of its
modification a special point in my first message, but that I thought it
indelicate to do so, as the matter was already before the legislature,
and committees had been appointed to report upon it. Another reason for
the neglect of this recommendation, was the then excited state of
party politics, which might have precluded the possibility of a calm
consideration of the subject. But for the proceedings instituted in the
premises, I would even now recommend a modification of the law, so as to
require captains to confine their  seamen to their vessels, and
to prevent their landing under heavy penalties. For while I think the
State has a perfect right to pass whatever laws on this subject it may
deem necessary for its safety, yet the spirit of the age requires that
while they should be so formed as to be adequate to our protection,
they should be at the same time as little offensive as possible to other
nations with whom we have friendly relations. But since an attempt has
been made to defy our laws, and bring us in conflict with the Federal
Government, on a subject upon which we are so justly sensitive, our own
self-respect demands that we should not abate one jot or tittle of that
law, which was enacted to protect us from the influence of ignorant
incendiaries."

We are under many obligations to Governor Means for his remarks upon
this subject. We esteem his character too highly to entertain an
idea that he would knowingly make an incorrect statement; but, with a
knowledge of the facts, we can assure him that he was misled by those
whom he depended upon for information. And also, though his name
deserves to stand pre-eminent among the good men of Carolina, for
recurring to that frightful state of things which exists in the
Charleston prison, that he did not receive a correct statement in regard
to it. In this want, his remarks lose much of their value. Subjects and
grievances exist there which he should know most of, and yet he knows
least, because he intrusts them to the caretakers, who make abuses their
medium of profit.

Under the influence of that exceedingly suspicious, and yet exceedingly
credulous characteristic of a people, few know the power that is working
beneath the sunshine of South Carolina, and those who do, stand upon
that slaveworn ostentation which considers it beneath notice.

We have no interest nor feeling beyond that of humanity, and a right
to expose the mendacity of those who have power to exercise it over the
prisoners in Charleston. That mendacity has existed too long for the
honor of that community, and for the feelings of those who have suffered
under it.

It may be true that this case was considered a favorable one to try the
issue upon, but no elements of sympathy were sought by the consul.
That functionary to whom the Governor has attributed "characteristic
kindness," said, in our presence, and we have the testimony of others
to confirm what we say, that if Judge Withers had granted the habeas
corpus, he would not have given up the prisoner, but rather gone to
jail and suffered the same regimen with the prisoners. Had he tried the
accommodations, he would have found the "profits" more than necessary to
appease common hunger.

The Governor says, "Pereira was at liberty to depart at any moment that
he could get a vessel to transport him beyond the limits of the State."
How are we to reconcile this with the following sentence, which appears
in the next paragraph:--"While these proceedings were pending," (meaning
the action instituted by the consul to release the prisoner,) "the
sheriff of Charleston had my instructions not to give up the prisoner,
even if a writ of habeas corpus had been granted?" According to this,
the sheriff assumed a power independent of and above the Governor's
prerogative. We have attempted to picture the force of this in our
work, and to show that there are official abuses cloaked by an honorable
dishonesty, which dignifies the business of the local factor and vendor
of human property, and which should be stayed by the power of the
Executive.

The singular fact presents itself, that while Judge Withers was
deliberating upon the question of granting the "habeas corpus," the
proceedings pending, and the Governor's instructions to the contrary
before him, the sheriff takes it upon himself to smuggle the prisoner
out of port. Now what was the object of this Secret and concerted
movement? Was it "kindness" on the part of that functionary, who has
grasped every pretence to enforce this law? We think not. The reader
will not require any extended comments from us to explain the motive;
yet we witnessed it, and cannot leave it without a few remarks.

It is well known that it has been the aim of that functionary, whose
"characteristic kindness" has not failed to escape the Governor's
notice, to thwart the consul in all his proceedings. In this instance,
he engaged the services of a "shipping master" as a pretext, and with
him was about to send the man away when his presence was essential to
test his right to the habeas corpus, and at this very time, more than
two months wages, due him from the owners, lay in the hands of the
consul, ready to be paid on his release.

The nefarious design speaks for itself.

The consul was informed of the proceeding, and very properly refused
to submit to such a violation of authority, intended to annul his
proceedings. He preferred to await the "test," demanding the prisoner's
release through the proper authorities. That release, instead of being
"a few days after this," as the message sets forth, was-not effected
until the fifteenth of May.

Let the Governor institute an inquiry into the treatment of these men
by the officials, and the prison regimen, and he will find the truth
of what we have said. Public opinion will not credit his award of
"characteristic kindness" to those who set up a paltry pretext as an
apology for their wrong-doing.

If men are to be imprisoned upon this singular construction of law,
(which is no less than arming the fears of South Carolina,) is it any
more than just to ask that she should pay for it, instead of imposing
it upon innocent persons? Or, to say the least, to make such comfortable
provision for them as is made in the port of Savannah, and give them
what they pay for, instead of charging thirty cents a day for their
board, and making twenty-two of that profit?

Had the Governor referred to the "characteristic kindness" of the
jailer, his remarks would have been bestowed upon a worthy man, who has
been a father to those unfortunates who chanced within the turn of his
key.

In another part of his message, commenting upon the existence of
disgraceful criminal laws, the management and wretched state of prisons,
he says, "The attorney-general, at my request, has drawn up a report
on the subject of prisons and prison discipline." Now, if such were the
facts, the reports would be very imperfect to be drawn up by one who
never visits the prisons.

We are well aware that he called for this report, and further, that the
attorney-general, in a letter to the sheriff, (of which we have a copy,)
propounded numerous questions in regard to the jail, calling for a
statement in full, particularly the amount of fees paid to certain
functionaries; those charged to the State, and the average number of
prisoners per month, from Sept. 1851, to Sept. 1852, &c. &c. That letter
was transmitted to the jailer-a man whose character and integrity is
well known, and above reproach in Charleston-with a request that he
would make out his report. He drew up his report in accordance with the
calendar and the facts, but that report was not submitted. Why was it
not submitted? Simply because it showed the profit of starving men in
South Carolina prisons.

We have the evidence in our possession, and can show the Executive that
he has been misled. We only ask him to call for the original statement,
made out in the jailer's handwriting, and compare it with the calendar;
and when he has done that, let us ask, Why the average of prisoners per
month does not correspond? and why the enormous amount of fees accruing
from upward of fifty " seamen," imprisoned during the year, and
entered upon the calendar "contrary to law," was not included?

It is a very unhealthy state of things, to say the least; but as the
sheriff considers it his own, perhaps we have no right to meddle with
it.

All this clamor about the bad influence of " seamen" is kept up
by a set of mendicant officials who harvest upon the fees, and falls
to naught, when, at certain hours of the day during their imprisonment,
they are allowed to associate with "bad <DW65>s," committed for criminal
offences and sale. If their presence is "dangerous," it certainly would
be more dangerous in its connection with criminals of the feared class.

Take away the fees--the mercantile community will not murmur, and
the official gentry will neither abuse nor trouble themselves about
enforcing the law to imprison freemen.






End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Manuel Pereira, by F. C. Adams

*** 