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 negro 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 negro 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 negroes, but if Manuel was to be classed with niggers for all the

nigger 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 colored ones wouldn't ship for ports in

Slaves States. The Thebis got a colored 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 negro 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 negro, 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 negroes

or colored 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 negro 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 negro. 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 nigger, 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 negroes 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 negro'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 colored

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

nigger 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 nigger 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 nigger 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 darky 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 niggers. And

they all know so much about law, that they're always teaching our bad

niggers the beauties of their government, which makes them more unhappy

than they are. Our niggers 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 niggers; 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

nigger, 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 nigger, isn't he?” inquired

the pilot.

“Nigger!--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 nigger'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 niggers 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 nigger 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.”

“Nigger!” said the Captain indignantly, “what do they call niggers in

Charleston? My steward's no more a nigger 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 nigger, in your

country, I'm glad that you are blessed with so many good men.”

“We polishes our language, Captain, when we speak of niggers 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 niggers 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

niggers, 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 niggers 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 nigger, but he couldn't prove it, and had to stand aside

among the darkies. 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 nigger, and the boarders where he stayed raised a

fuss about it. The nigger's father had two of them sued for slander,

but they proved the nigger 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 nigger. It was a very well-considered

insinuation of the judges, but the young-un stands about A-1 with a

prime nigger-feller.”

“I should like to have 'em try me, to see whether I was a nigger or a

white man. It must be a funny law, 'nigger or no nigger.' 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 nigger. 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 nigger never has

the advantage of the law. They always go with the niggers, 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 niggers 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 niggers. If a fellow wants a real prime,

likely nigger wench, he must get the pure African blood. As they say

themselves, 'Wherever Buckra-man bin, make bad nigger.'”

“Well, Pilot, I think we've had enough about mixed niggers 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 colored 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

niggers 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 nigger, 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-colored hide

wouldn't be worth a sixpence to a nigger-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 nigger-dealing; his name's like a fiery

dragon among the niggers all over the South; and I hearn our skipper say

once when I sailed in a liner, that niggers 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 niggers, as they call 'em, and

black niggers--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 nigger 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 niggers 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 niggers 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 colored 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-colored 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

niggers 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

niggers, 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' niggers 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 niggers 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 niggers 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 niggers. “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 nigger, and take him home as a curiosity to show

among the Highlands. You can buy a young Sambo 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 niggers 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 niggers 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 darkies 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

niggers 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 nigger, 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 negro 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 niggers. Yes, sir, it's

only the extreme goodness of the Southern people's hearts that makes the

niggers like them so. I never saw a Northerner yet that wouldn't work

his niggers 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 negro-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.