CHAPTER VIII. A FEW POINTS OF THE LAW.

IN Charleston, such an adjournment at a bar-room or an eating-house,

when parties are enjoying what is termed a “pleasant occasion,” does not

mean an adjournment to the domestic fireside; nor are the distinctions

between married and single men regarded, though domestic attachments

may be considered as governing the thoughts and feelings. The practical

definition of such an adjournment means to some place where beauty

secludes itself to waste in shame.

The party descended into the lower bar-room, which, though rather

thinned, presented a picture of characters stimulated to the tottering

point. A motion had been made and strongly seconded to visit the

voluptuous house of a certain lady, which it is considered a stranger

has not seen Charleston until he has visited. The Captain remonstrated

against this, assuring the party that he must go to the ship and needed

rest. Again and again they insisted, setting forth the charms and beauty

of the denizens, but he as often declined in the most positive manner.

Unable to move him in his resolution, one by one began to give him a

hearty shake of the hand and bid him good-night, leaving little Master

George to the exclusive honor of seeing him home.

Standing in the centre of the room, surrounded by five or six persons

well-dressed but very weak in the knees, was a portly-looking gentleman;

with very florid countenance, keen dark eyes, and aquiline nose which

he frequently fingered. There was an air of respectability about him,

though his countenance was not marked with any particularly prominent

feature to distinguish him from the ordinary class of respectable men.

He spoke well, yet without taste or discrimination in his language, was

rather bald and gray, with small head and low perceptive powers; and

judging from the particular tone of his voice and the cant terms he

used, we should think he had figured among the Kentucky horse-traders,

or made stump speeches in Arkansas. His dress was inclined to the gaudy.

He wore a flashy brown-colored frock-coat with the collar laid very far

back, a foppish white vest exposing his shirt-bosom nearly down to

the waistbands of his pants, which were of gray stripes. But the more

fanciful portions of his dress were a large and costly fob-chain, which

hung very low and supported an immense seal containing a glistening

stone, which he seemed very fond of dangling with his left hand.

Attached to this was a very prominently displayed black ribbon,

answering the purpose of a guard-chain, and laid with great contrasting

care over the bosom of his shirt. This, with a neckerchief of more

flashy colors than Joseph's coat, and a late style Parisian hat, with

the rim very exquisitely turned upon the sides, make up our man.

He was discussing politics, with a great many sensible sayings, though

nothing like close reasoning; and strange as it may seem, he was

strongly opposed to the rabid views of several staggering secessionists,

who surrounded him, and advocated the views set forth in convention by

Mr. Butler. We remarked this more particularly, for it was about the

only instance we witnessed of a public man being independent enough to

denounce the fanaticism of secession. A more amusing scene than that

presented by the attitudes-the questions in regard to South Carolina

licking the Federal Government-the strange pomp-ribald gasconade, and

high-sounding chivalry of the worthies, cannot be imagined. They were

in a perfect ecstasy with themselves and South Carolina, and swore, let

whatever come, they were ready to meet it.

Little Master George seemed very anxious that the Captain should become

acquainted with him, and commenced giving him a monstrous account of his

distinguished abilities. “And that's not all!” said George; “he's not

only one of the greatest characters in Charleston, or perhaps the State,

but he's a right good fellow.”

We will interrupt, by informing the reader that he was one of the good

fellows-a numerous family in Charleston-who never use fine instruments

when they select their company; and pay a large amount of worthy tribute

to the liquor-dealers. There is no discriminating latitude attached

to the good-fellow family, for its members may be found with alike

gratifying inclinations, from the highest aristocracy to the negro

population.

“That, sir, is Col. S--e; belongs to one of the first families, sir. He

can beat old Pettigru all hollow; his eloquence is so thrilling that

he always reminds me of Pericles. He can beat little Thomas Y.

Simmons, Jr., all to pieces-make the best stump speech-address a public

assemblage, and rivet all their minds-can make a jury cry quicker than

any other man-can clear the worst criminal that ever committed crime-and

he's good-hearted too-can draw the most astonishing comparisons to

confound the minds of stupid jurors, and make them believe the d--dest

nonsense that ever man invented. Yes, sir-when he makes a speech,

everybody goes to hear him, for he says what he pleases, and old Judge

Withers, whose will is as arbitrary as Julius Caesar's, and has got the

obstinacy of Tom Boyce's mule, dar'n't attempt to control the tenor of

his plea. And he can tell the best invented story of any man in town.

He cleared the villanous Doctor Hines once upon the color of his

pantaloons.”

George waited impatiently for the end of the political controversy,

determined to introduce his friend to the colonel. He soon had an

opportunity, for the colonel, finding himself beset by a set of

unreasonable secessionists, made a sweeping declaration. “Gentlemen,”

said he, “let me tell you a modest fact: seven-eighths of the secession

fire-eaters don't know what the proper meaning of government is: I

make the charge against my own people-but it is true.” “Traitor!

traitor!--traitor to South Carolina,” was sounded at the top of a dozen

voices.

“Then, if I am such in your opinions, I'm gratified to know that my

feelings are my own. Good-night!”

Thus saying, he withdrew from the party, and making his way for the

door, was saluted by George, who introduced him to his friend, the

Captain. The colonel was a very sociable, communicative man; and taking

the Captain's arm, as they walked along, entered into an interesting

conversation about his voyage and first visit to the city, at the same

time displaying his good sense in not trying to force the great things

of South Carolina into his mind.

We, a few weeks afterward, had the good fortune to hear the legal

abilities of this gentleman displayed in a plea at the bar. There were

many good points in it, which, if not legally pointed, were said well;

yet we should class him as belonging to the loud school.

The Captain, thinking it a good opportunity to make some inquiries about

his steward, as they proceeded, commenced in the following manner:

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

“Well, no sir,” said the colonel, “if we except those which govern the

niggers; they of necessity must be so; we have had so many emeutes with

them, that no law can be made too strict in its bearings. We have so

many bad niggers poured in upon us, that the whole class is becoming

corrupted.”

“Your laws, of course, make a distinction between good and bad niggers,

and free negroes?” interposed the Captain.

“We make no distinction between the colors--some are as white as you

are; but the grades are so complex that it would be impossible to make a

sliding-scale law for any fixed complexions. The law which governs

them is distinctive and comprehensive-made in order to shield the white

population from their ignorance of law and evidence. We never could

govern them in their respective spheres, unless the laws were made

stringent in their effect. As for the free niggers, they're the greatest

nuisance we have; it is our policy to get rid of them, and to that end

we tax them severely. The riddance of this class of niggers would be an

essential benefit to our slaves, as upon account of their influence our

negro-laws are made more stringent. And the worst of it is that they

increase faster. But we make it a principal point to get all the free

men we can married to slaves, and the free women run off. You, that are

accustomed to the free institutions of your country, may think some of

these things singular at first; but you would soon become accustomed

to them, and would really admire them when you saw how beautifully they

worked.”

“Is there no discretionary power left?” inquired the Captain. “It

must be oppressive, if carried out; Good men-whether they be white or

black-are entitled to the advantages due them; but where laws such as

you describe are carried out, a good man's evidence being black, the

intention could not be made white. Now, according to my idea of the

law of nature, a man's merits are in his moral integrity and behaviour;

therefore I should establish the rule that a good black man was better

than a bad white man, and was as much entitled to the respect and

government of law.”

“Hi!--oh! Captain; it won't do to talk so in South Carolina. Just let a

nigger imagine himself as good as a white man, and all the seven codes

in Christendom wouldn't keep 'em under. Ah! you've got to learn a thing

or two about niggers yet,” interrupted Master George, before the Colonel

had time to speak.

“I only speak from my observation of human nature; but I may become

better acquainted with your laws, if I remain among you,” said the

Captain.

“As I have said before sir,” replied the Colonel, “our nigger-laws are

such as to require a strict enforcement. If we allowed the prerogative

of a discretionary power, it would open the way to an endless system of

favoritism, just at the mercy and feelings of those exercising it. As it

is now, the white or black nigger, male or female, gets the same law and

the same penalty. We make no distinction even at the paddle-gallows. The

paddle-gallows is a frame with two uprights, and a wrench screw at

the top. The negro's hands are secured in iron wristlets-similar to

handcuffs; a rope is then attached to an eye in these, and passing over

the wrench, which being turned, the negro is raised in an agonizing

position until the tips of his toes scarcely touch the floor. Thus

suspended, with the skin stretched to its utmost tension, it not

unfrequently parts at the first blow of the paddle. Sometimes the feet

are secured, when the effect of this modern science of demonstrating the

tension of the human body for punishment becomes more painful under the

paddle. South Carolinians deny this mode of punishment generally, and

never allow strangers to witness it. It is not, as some writers have

stated, practised in Georgia, where, we are happy to say, that so far as

punishment is conducted in a legal manner, at the jails and prisons,

it is administered in a humane manner; and instead of turning modern

barbarity into a science, as is, done in South Carolina, a strict

regard for the criminal is observed. I will relate some singular facts

connected with the strictness with which we South Carolinians carry

out our laws. And now that we are on the spot connected with it, its

associations are more forcibly impressed on my mind. It brings with it

many painful remembrances, and, were we differently situated, I should

wish the cause to be removed. But it cannot be, and we must carry out

the law without making allowances, for in these little leniencies all

those evils which threaten the destruction of our peculiar institution

creep in. In fact, Captain, they are points of law upon which all our

domestic quietude stands; and as such, we are bound to strengthen our

means of enforcing them to the strictest letter. Our laws are founded

upon the ancient wisdom of our forefathers, and South Carolina has never

traduced herself or injured her legal purity. We have reduced our system

almost to a practical science, so complete in its bearings and points

of government as to be worthy the highest and noblest purposes of our

country. And at the same time, such is the spirit and magnanimity of our

people, that in framing laws to guard against the dangerous influences

of that wing of our country that spreads its ambitious fallacies--its

tempting attractions-shallow criticisms upon minute and isolated

cases-redundant theories without measure or observation, and making

a standard for the government of slaves upon foolish and capricious

prejudices, we have been careful to preserve a conservative moderation

toward the slave. But, to my remarks.”

The party had now arrived opposite to what was formerly known as Jones's

Hotel, where the Colonel made a halt to relate the singular case that

had pained his feelings, though he held very tenaciously to the law as

it was, because he believed strongly in the wisdom of the South Carolina

judiciary.

“Our first and great object is to prevent the interchange of sentiment

between our domestic niggers, whether bond or free, and niggers who

reside abroad or have left our State; To do this, it became imperative

to establish a law prohibiting free negroes from coming into the State,

and those in the State from going out, under penalty of imprisonment and

fine, if they returned. The penalty amounted to sale upon a peon form;

and subjected the offender to the slave system in a manner that he

seldom retrieved himself. You will observe, Captain, the penalty is not

desired by our people, the object being to prevent them from returning,

and as such it must be taken in the spirit of its origin. Another very

wise provision was made by our legislators, and which has prevented a

great deal of suffering on the part of the slave. A few years ago, our

wise legislature made a law to revert the power of emancipation from the

board of magistrates where it had been very much abused, to the House

itself. And such is the law at the present day, that no master can give

his slaves their freedom, except by special act of the legislature, and

that with such a multiplicity of provisions and conditions that few even

attempt it. But I'm about to refer to cases in which some modification

might be said to have been necessary, because in them are embodied the

worst germs for abolition speculation.

“That, Captain, is Jones's Hotel,” said the Colonel, pointing to an

odd-looking house of antique and mixed architecture, with a large convex

window above the hall-entrance, in the second story. This house is

situated in Broad street, next to the aristocratic St. Michael's Church,

one of the most public places in the city. “In years past, that house

was kept by Jones, a free nigger. Jones was almost white, a fine

portly-looking man, active, enterprising, intelligent, honest to the

letter, and whose integrity and responsibility was never doubted. He

lived in every way like a white man, and, I think, with few exceptions,

never kept company with even bright folks. His house was unquestionably

the best in the city, and had a widespread reputation. Few persons of

note ever visited Charleston without putting up at Jones's, where they

found, not only the comforts of a private house, but a table spread with

every luxury that the county afforded. The Governor always put up at

Jones's; and when you were travelling abroad, strangers would speak

of the sumptuous fare at Jones's in Charleston, and the elegance and

correctness of his house. But if his house and fare were the boast of

Carolinians, and the remark of strangers, his civility and courteous

attention could not be outdone. Jones continued in the popularity of his

house for many years, reared a beautiful, intelligent, and interesting

family; at the same time accumulated about forty thousand dollars. The

most interesting part of his family was three beautiful daughters, the

eldest of whom was married to a person now in New York. She was fairer

than seven-eighths of those ladies who term themselves aristocracy in

Charleston, and promenade King street in the afternoon.

“She removed to New York with her husband, who now resides in that city,

engaged in lucrative and respectable business. A short time after, her

second sister-not dreaming that the law would be so stringent as to

class her with the lowest nigger, or even lay its painful bearings

at her door; for the family were very high-minded, and would have

considered themselves grossly insulted to have the opprobrious name of

nigger applied to them-paid her a visit. The public became acquainted

with the fact, and to his surprise, Jones was informed by authority

that upon no condition could she be allowed to return-that the law was

imperative, and no consideration could be given to the circumstances,

for such would be virtually destroying its validity, and furnishing a

precedent that would be followed by innumerable cases. In spite of all

the remonstrances which Jones could set forth, and the influence of

several friends of high standing, he was compelled to relinquish all

hope of his daughter's being allowed to return to the family. The

reasoning set forth had every plausibility; but such is our respect for

the law, that we were compelled to forego our hospitality, and maintain

it, even though the case was painful to our feelings. Thus, you see, we

maintain the point and spirit of the law above every thing else.

“But the end is not here! A few years after this, Jones received

a letter, that his daughter was very sick and not expected to

live-accompanied with a desire to have the last soothing comfort of

seeing her parents. Jones being an affectionate man, and dotingly fond

of his children, without regarding the former admonition, immediately

prepared himself, and left in disguise for New York. Mature

consideration would have convinced him of the error of one so well known

as himself trying to elude recognition.

“His son-in-law, Lee, a noble fellow, kept the house, and when Jones was

inquired for, it was reported that he was confined to his room. It would

have been well if Jones had kept himself secluded in New York; but he

was recognised by a Charlestonian, and, as such reports have uncommon

wings, the news of it soon reached the authorities; when a mandate was

issued accordingly, and Jones subjected to the fate of his daughter.

There are many painful circumstances connected with the affair, which,

if well told, would make quite a romance,” said the Colonel, all of

which the Captain listened to with profound attention. “His family all

moved to New York, and his affairs were put into the hands of attorneys

here, for settlement, by his son-in-law, who continued the business for

some years.”

“Of course he got his property restored to him?” interrupted the

Captain.

“Most certainly, Captain! The spirit of justice is coequal with that of

honorable law, in South Carolina,” said George, anxious to relieve the

Colonel of the answer.

“It is somewhat difficult to settle a man's business by legal process

when the principal is not present. The law's delay and lawyers' spoils

make time hallowed and costly,” said the Captain.

“You're right there, Captain,” said the Colonel; “and I doubt-to speak

honestly-whether Jones ever got much of his property. There's a good

many stories told, and a great deal of mystery about it that's got to be

explained to my mind. But you're a stranger, Captain, and it would

not be interesting to the feelings of a Scotchman. I may give you the

details more minutely at some future day.”

“Why, Colonel!” said George, “you should be considerate in your

statements. Remember the immense difficulty that has attended Jones's

affairs-they're not all settled yet.”

“True, George; and I'm afraid they never will be;--but there are

some very singular appearances connected with it. I mean no personal

disrespect toward those cousins of yours who have figured in the case.

'Tis bad to call names, but there is a mystery about a certain member of

our profession getting rich, when poor Jones declares he's got nothing,

and Lee has had to give up the house,--I don't say what for.” * * *

“Yes, strange things must be kept strangely secret in some parts of the

world, and only whispered when there's no wind,” said the Captain.

“But that's the only case, Captain,” said George; “and the Colonel

was indiscreet in recounting it; for from that you may conceive wrong

impressions of the best institutions and laws in the world. Jones was an

old fool, led away by his nigger-like affections for them gals of his.

He never knew when he was well off, and always wanted to be with white

folk when he was here. 'Twould been a great deal better if he'd let

them youngest gals gone with Pingree and Allston. They'd have made the

tip-top mistresses--been kept like ladies, and not been bothered,

and brought all this trouble upon their heads through these infernal

abolitionists. I really believe the old fool thought some white man

would marry them at one time.”

“What harm would there've been in that, providing they're as white as

anybody, and got plenty of money, and were handsome? There must be a

singular sensibility, that I don't understand, exerting itself in your

society,” said the Captain laconically.

“Harm! You'd find out the harm. Just live in South Carolina a year or

two. 'Tisn't the fair complexion-we don't dispute that-but it's the

blood.”

“Oh! then the legal objection,” said the Captain, “is what is so

revolting to society, eh! It may be sown broadcast in licentiousness,

then, and custom sustains an immoral element that is devouring the

essential bond of society.”

“Excuse me, Captain,” interrupted the Colonel. “George, you are always

taking me upon suppositions. I only related it to the Captain in order

to show the power and integrity of our law, and how South Carolinians

frequently sacrifice their own interests to maintain it intact. Nothing

could be more fatal to its vitality than to make provisions which would

entail legal preferences. The law in regard to free niggers leaving

the State should be looked upon in the light of protection rather than

alienation, for it is made to protect property and society. Yet where

a case is attended with such circumstances as that of Jones's, some

disposition to accommodate might have been evinced without endangering

the State's sovereignty. And I must also differ with you, George, so far

as the girls maintained their self-respect. It was commendable in them

to get husbands whom they could live with in the bonds of matrimony.

My word for it, George, though I am a Southerner, and may give rein to

improprieties at times, nothing can be more pernicious to our society

than this destructive system of our first people in keeping mistresses.

It's a source of misery at best, depending upon expediency instead of

obligation, and results in bringing forth children and heirs with an

entailed burden upon their lives, to be disowned, cast off from paternal

rights, and left to the tender mercies of the law. We see the curse, yet

countenance it-and while it devours domestic affections and has cankered

the core of social obligations, we look upon it as a flowery garden as

we pass by the wayside.. There may be but a shadow between the rightful

heir and the doubtful son-the former may enjoy the bounty of his

inheritance, but the latter is doomed to know not his sire nor his

kinsman, but to suffer the doubts and fears and the dark gloom which

broods over a bondman's life.”

“By-je-w-hu! Colonel, what in scissors are you preaching about. You must

a' got a pull too much at Bakers's. You're giving vent to real abolition

sentiments. Exercise your knowledge of the provision that is made for

such children. The Captain will certainly draw incorrect notions about

us,” said George, with anxiety pictured on his countenance. He knew the

Colonel's free, open, and frank manner of expressing himself, and feared

lest the famous name of the chivalry should suffer from his unconscious

disclosures.

“Provisions! George, you know my feelings concerning that vice which is

so universally practised in our community. If you know of any provision,

it's more than I do. Perhaps you are older and have had more experience.

'Tis the want of such a provision that is just destroying our

institution of slavery!”

At this juncture the Captain interrupted them, and begging that the

Colonel would finish the story about Jones, said he had a few questions

to ask them after it was through.

“Well,” said the Colonel, “Jones died, I believe; but his family are as

industrious as ever, and have made money enough to live comfortable; but

the scamps have turned out perfect helpmates of the abolitionists, and

make their intelligence figure at the bottom of many an escape. But

Lee's case is as hard as Jones's. His son went to New York to see his

grandfather, and was debarred by the same statute of limitations. Lee,

however, was a very capable fellow, and after trying for two years, and

finding it would be impossible to return to his father, very shrewdly

set about some kind of business, and is now largely engaged in the

preserve and pickle business. Lee's celebrated pickle and preserve

establishment, New York. The father is now in this city, making a living

for his family at something or other. He has made several efforts to

sell out his little property, but there's some trouble about the

title; and if he leaves it to go and see his son, he knows what the

consequences will be; and to leave it for settlement would be to abandon

it, to the same fate that swallowed up Jones's. Thus the son cannot come

to visit his father, nor the father go to visit the son. This, in my

opinion, is carrying a prohibition to an extreme point; and although

I believe the law should be maintained, I cannot believe that any good

arises from it upon such people as the Jones's and Lee's, from the very

fact that they never associated with niggers. Hence, where there is

no grounds for fear there can be no cause for action,” continued the

Colonel.

“Just what I wanted to know,” said the Captain. “As I informed you, I am

driven into your port in distress. Charleston, as you are aware, is in

an advantageous latitude for vessels to refit that have met with those

disasters which, are frequent in the gulf and among the Bahamas. Thus I

expected to find good facilities here, without any unkind feeling on the

part of the people”--

“Oh! bless me, Captain, you will find us the most hospitable people in

the world,” said the Colonel.

“But your pilot told me I would have trouble with my steward, and that

the law would make no distinction between his being cast upon your

shores in distress and subject to your sympathy, and his coming in

voluntarily.”

“What!” said little George. “Is he a nigger, Captain? Old Grimshaw's

just as sure to nab him as you're a white man. He'll buy and sell a

saint for the fees, and gives such an extended construction to the terms

of the act that you need expect no special favor at his hands. The law's

no fiction with him. I'm sorry, Captain: you may judge his conduct as

an index of that of our people, and I know him so well that I fear the

consequences.”

“No!” said the Captain. “My steward is a Portuguese, a sort of mestino,

and one of the best men that ever stepped foot aboard a vessel. He

is willing, intelligent, always ready to do his duty, and is a great

favorite with his shipmates, and saves his wages like a good man-but he

is olive complexion, like a Spaniard. He has sailed under the British

flag for a great many years, has been 'most all over the world, and is

as much attached to the service as if he was a Londoner, and has got a

register ticket. Nothing would pain my feelings more than to see him

in a prison, for I think he has as proud a notion of honesty as any man

I've seen, and I know he wouldn't commit a crime that would subject him

to imprisonment for the world. The boys have been pestering the poor

fellow, and telling him about some old fellow they heard the pilot speak

about, called Norman Gadsden; they tell him if he catches him they'll

sell him for a slave.”

“The question is one about which you need give yourself no concern. Our

people are not so inhuman but that they will shelter a castaway sailor,

and extend those comforts which are due from all humane people. The act

under which seamen are imprisoned is the law provided to prohibit free

niggers from entering our port, and, in my opinion, was brought into

life for the sake of the fees. It's no more nor less than a tax and

restriction upon commerce, and I doubt whether it was ever the intention

of the framers that it should be construed in this manner. However, so

far as your steward is con-cerned, the question of how far his color

will make him amenable to the law will never be raised; the mere

circumstance of his being a seaman in distress, thrown upon our

sympathies, will be all you need among our hospitable people. I'm not

aware of a precedent, but I will guaranty his safety from a knowledge

of the feelings of our people. Our merchants are, with few exceptions,

opposed to the law in this sense, but such is the power and control of

a class of inexperienced legislators, prompted by a most trifling clique

of office-holders, that their voice has no weight. I am opposed to this

system of dragging people into courts of law upon every pretext. It is

practised too much in our city for the good of its name.”

Upon this the Colonel and little George accompanied the Captain to his

ship, and, expressing their heartfelt regrets at her appearance, bid

him good-night-George promising to call upon him in the morning, and the

Colonel charging him to give himself no trouble about his steward, that

he would see Mr. Grimshaw that night, and make all things straight.

Thus ended the Captain's first night in Charleston, and represented a

picture from which he might have drawn conclusions somewhat different

from the actual result. Alas! that all the good fellowship and pleasant

associations of a people should be disgraced by an absurdity arising

from their fears.

The Colonel might have given many other instances equally as painful as

that connected with the transportation of Jones and his family, and the

fetters that were placed upon poor Lee. He might have instanced that

of Malcome Brown, a wealthy, industrious, honest, high-minded, and

straightforward man, now living at Aiken, in South Carolina. Brown

conducts a profitable mechanical business, is unquestionably the best

horticulturist in the State, and produces the best fruit brought to the

Charleston market. What has he done to be degraded in the eyes of the

law? Why is he looked upon as a dangerous citizen and his influence

feared? Why is he refused a hearing through those laws which bad white

men take the advantage of? He is compelled to submit to those which

were made to govern the worst slaves! And why is he subjected to that

injustice which gives him no voice in his own behalf when the most

depraved whites are his accusers? Can it be the little crimp that is in

his hair? for he has a fairer skin than those who make laws to oppress

him. If he inhaled the free atmosphere from abroad, can it be that

there is contagion in it, and Malcome Brown is the dreaded medium of its

communication? And if the statement rung in our ears be true, “that

the free colored of the North suffer while the slave is cared for and

comfortable,” why belie ourselves? Malcome's influence is, and always

has been, with the whites, and manifestly good in the preservation of

order and obedience on the part of the slaves. He pursues his avocation

with spirit and enterprise, while he is subjected to menial and

oppressive laws. His father visited New York, and was forbidden to

return. He appealed again and again, set forth his claims and his

integrity to the State and her laws, but all was of no avail. He was

hopelessly banished, as it were, from ever seeing his son again, unless

that son would sacrifice his property and submit to perpetual banishment

from the State. If we reflect upon the many paternal associations that

would gladden the hearts of father and child to meet in happy affection,

we may realize the effect of that law which makes the separation painful

and which denies even the death-bed scene its last cheering consolation.

We have conversed with poor Brown on many occasions, found him a very

intelligent man, full of humour, and fond of relating incidents in the

history of his family-even proud of his good credit in Charleston. He

frequently speaks of his father and the gratifying hope of meeting him

at some future day, when he can give vent to his feelings in bursts of

affection. He wants his father to return and live with him, because he

says he knows they would be more happy together. “I suppose the law was

made in justice, and it's right for me to submit to it,” he would say

when conversing upon its stringency; and it also seems a sort of comfort

to him that he is not the only sufferer.

If South Carolina would awake to her own interest, she would find more

to fear from the stringency of her own laws than from the influence of a

few men coming from abroad.

CHAPTER X. THE PROSPECT DARKENING.

AFTER the Colonel and little George left the Captain, as we have stated

in the foregoing chapter, he descended into the cabin, and found Manuel

sitting upon one of the lockers, apparently in great anxiety. He,

however, waited for the mate to speak before he addressed the

Captain. The mate awoke and informed the Captain that a slender,

dark-complexioned man had been aboard a few minutes after he left,

making particular inquiries about the steward; that he spoke like an

official man, was dressed in black clothes, and wore spectacles.

“I asked him if we'd have any trouble with Manuel, and tried to make him

understand that he wasn't a black, and that our situation might excuse

us from any annoyance through their peculiar laws. But the old chap

seemed mighty stupid about every thing, and talked just as if he didn't

know any thing about nothing. 'A nigger's a nigger in South Carolina,'

said he dryly, and inquired for a quid of tobacco, which I handed him,

and he took one big enough for six. Said I, 'Mister, do you call a man

a nigger what's a Portugee and a'n't black?' 'It depends on how he was

born,' says he. 'Well, but ye can't make a white man a nigger nohow,

whether it's in South Carolina or Scotland,' says I. 'Well, we don't

stand upon such things here; we can show you niggers as white as you be,

Mr. Mate,' says he. 'But, Mister, what's to do about our steward, that

ye make yer inquiries about him; he ha'n't did nothing,' said I. 'Well,

Mr. Mate; it's contrary to law to bring nigger stewards into our port.

They're a bad set of fellows generally, and we claim the right to lock

'em up to insure their good behavior and keep their bad influence away

from our slaves. 'Tis not my office. I observed your arrival and wrecked

condition, and merely came to take a look,' said he. 'Well now, Mister,

our steward thinks as much of himself as anybody and wouldn't mix with

your niggers on any account. But Mister! won't it make a difference

because we're cast upon your shore in distress,' says I. 'Not a whit!

it's contrary to law, and the law's got nothing to do with wind and

weather. We love the sovereignty of our law too well to make any

discrimination. We're a hospitable people, and always give folks plenty

to eat, but we never allow any favors in the law. I'll call and see you

in the morning,' said he, and away he went.”

This individual was Mr. Grimshaw, the principal mover of the powers that

be, notwithstanding he asserted that it was not his office, and that he

just walked round to take a look.

During his visit on board, Manuel was absent on board a Boston bark,

where he met a white steward, who gave him a sad picture of the

Charleston jail and the cruel treatment that was inflicted upon

prisoners there by starvation. He told him that he was once put in for

a trifling offence, and nearly starved to death before he got out.

“You will be sure to go there, Manuel,” said he, “for they make no

distinction; and if a man's a foreigner, and can't speak for himself,

he'll stand no chance at all. I'd give 'em the slip afore I'd suffer

such another punishment,” he continued.

This so worked upon the poor fellow's mind, that it became a matter of

little moment whether he jumped overboard or remained on the ship. He

waited until the mate had concluded, and commenced appealing to the

Captain in a most pitiful manner. The disgrace of being imprisoned

seemed worse than the punishment; and he did not seem to comprehend

the intention that he should be imprisoned for no crime in the United

States, when he had sailed around the world and visited a majority of

its ports, both barbarous and civilized, without molestation. He wanted

the Captain to pay him off and let him leave by some vessel in the

morning. The Captain endeavored to soothe his fears by assuring him

that there was no danger of his being imprisoned; that the people of

Charleston had too much good feeling in them to be cruel to a distressed

sailor; that the power of the consul was a sufficient guarantee of

protection. “You are not among Patagonians, Manuel,” said he. “There's

no use of working your mind into a fever, you'll be as well taken

care of here and be thought as much of as you would in London.” This

assurance had the effect to soothe his mind, upon which he left the

cabin more at ease, and went into the forecastle to turn in with his

little companion Tommy. Men had been detailed for the pumps as soon as

the flood-tide made, and the Captain retired to his berth.

It seemed there was a mutual understanding between the pilots and

officers in regard to the arrival of colored stewards; and the pilot,

after leaving the vessel, went directly to Mr. Grimshaw's office and

reported a nut for him to crack: this brought him to the wharf to “look

around.”

Early in the morning the crew were at their duty. The mate commenced

giving orders to clear away the deck, and Manuel to make preparations

for breakfast. He had scarcely commenced before two men, Messrs. Dunn

and Dusenberry walked up and down the wharf for several minutes, then

they would stand together and gaze as if to watch the approach of some

vessel in the offing. At length, Dusenberry, seeing Manuel come to the

gangway with a bucket in his hand, walked to her side, and, stepping on

board, seized him by the collar, and drawing a paper from his pocket,

said, “You're my prisoner! you must go to jail-come, be quick, sir; you

must not stop to get your things; you must send for them after you're

committed.”

The mate and several of the crew being near, at once gathered around

him. At the same time Dunn, who was standing at the end of the wharf

awaiting the result, thinking Dusenberry was opposed, came to his

assistance. The officers and crew knew the respect due to the laws too

well to oppose any obstacles to the constables in executing their duty.

The mate, in a very polite manner, asked as a favor that they would

leave the man a few minutes until the Captain came on deck. They yielded

to his solicitation after a great deal of grumbling. The arrest made a

deep feeling among the seamen, but none felt it more than little Tommy;

he heard the noise upon deck, and came running with tears in his eyes,

and cried, “Oh! Manuel, why Manuel, what are they going to take you

away for? Won't I see you again, Manuel?” The little fellow's simplicity

touched the feelings of all present. But the lame officer, Dunn, stood

with a pair of handcuffs in his hand, as unmoved as a stoic, while

Dusenberry expressed his impatience, and began to push the boy away, and

motion to march him off.

“Hold a bit!” said the mate. “The Captain will be on deck in a few

minutes; he wants a word or two with you.”

“We can't stop unless we're compensated for our time. 'Tis no use to

delay-'twon't do any good; he's a nigger to all intents and purposes. I

know by the curl in his hair-they can't escape me, I've had too much to

do with them!” said Dunn. “Yes, to be sure, I can tell a nigger by his

ear, if his skin's as white as chalk!” said Dusenberry. “It's all gammon

this bringing bright outlandish men here, and trying to pass them off

for white folks. 'Twon't stick-you must come up and be registered, and

you'll have a good time at the jail, my boy; there's plenty of bright

gals in there, and you can have a wife, if you know how to do the

courting.”

The Captain now came upon deck; and began to intercede, begging that

they would not take Manuel away until he had seen the British Consul. “I

know I can make every thing straight. There is no occasion to imprison

my steward-he's neither a nigger nor a bad man; and I'll pledge you my

honor that he shall not leave the ship, or even go upon the wharf, if

you will only allow me to see the Consul before you take any further

action,” he continued.

“That is beyond our power, sir; you must see the sheriff-you'll find him

in his office bright and early. But you might as well put your appeal in

your pocket, or send it to Queen Victoria, for all Consul Mathew can do

for you. He's been kicking up a fuss for two years; but he might as well

whistle agin a brickbat as to talk his nonsense about English niggers to

South Carolina. He'll get tarred and feathered yet, if he a'n't mighty

shy about his movements. Sorry, Captain, we can't accommodate you, but

we're only actin' for the sheriff, and his orders are imperative to

bring him right up. We must lock the fellow up. We don't make the law,

nor we ha'n't the power to control it.” Thus saying, Dunn took a little

key from his pocket and begun to turn it in the handcuffs.

“What!” said the Captain-“don't attempt to put them things on my man,

upon your peril. Is that the way you treat a poor shipwrecked sailor

in South Carolina, the State of boasted hospitality? No, sir! I will

sacrifice my life before my man shall submit to such a thing,” said the

Captain, with his Scotch energy aroused.

“Captain!” said Dunn, “we'd not be takin' the advantage of ye because

ye're a stranger, but 'tis the law; and if we accommodates ye, sure

it'll be at our own risk. But anyhow, Captain, ye'd be keepin' meself

an' this gentleman a long time waiting, 'twouldn't be amiss to be giving

us the usual perquisite. You won't miss it, and we've a great deal to do

for small fees, that niver compinsate for the accommodation we be's to

give everybody-an' the loss of time's the loss of money.”

“Give you a perquisite!--no, indeed; I never pay for such favors. Wait a

few moments; I will accompany you myself, if you will not take my honor

for his good conduct on the way to prison,” continued the Captain.

“Captain, sure ye needn't trouble yerself anyhow; we'll take yer honor

that he don't run away, and if he does ye'll stand the odds at the

sheriff's. Sure a case would niver pass Mr. Grimshaw s observation; but

to plase ye, and considerin' the wreck, meself and Dusenberry 'll put

him up without,” said Dunn.

During the conversation, Manuel plead hard to be heard before the

Consul, having a mistaken idea that the Consul could protect him from

all danger; and that if he could get a hearing before him, he was sure

to be released. The Captain shook his hand and told him to be contented

until the Consul's office opened, when he would come to the jail and see

him. Manuel then turned to the crew, and shaking the hands of each, took

his little bundle in one hand, and holding little Tommy by the other,

(who accompanied him to the head of the wharf,) was soon out of sight.

But will the reader believe what was the practice of these petty

officers? We can assure them that such instances as the one we shall

relate are not only practised in Charleston to an unlimited extent, but

the fact is well known to both magistrates and the public; the former

treat it as moonshine, and the latter rail against it, but never take

proper action.

Scarcely had little Tommy left them at the head of the wharf, before

they intimated that it would be well to consider a morning dram. To this

end, they walked into a “Dutch corner shop,” and passing into the back

room, gave sundry insinuations that could not be misunderstood. “Well!

come, who pays the shot?” said Dunn, stepping up to the counter, and

crooking his finger upon his nose at a dumpling-faced Dutchman, who

stood behind the counter, waiting for his man to name it. The Dutchman

was very short and very thick, leaving the impression that he had been

very much depressed in his own country when young. He rubbed his

hands and flirted his fingers in motion of anxiety, “Every ting vat de

shentleman vant him--dare notin like to my zin and brondty vat him got

mit ze zity,” said Dutchy.

“Gentlemen, I should be glad to have you drink with me, if it be proper

to ask,” said Manuel.

“Oh! yes--certainly, yes!--just what we come for, something to cut

away the cobwebs--'twouldn't do to go out in the morning fog without a

lining,” said Dunn.

“Name it! name it! shentlemen,” exclaimed the Dutchman, as he rapped his

fingers upon the counter, and seemed impatient to draw forth his filthy

stuff. They named their drinks, each with a different name. Manuel

not being a Charleston graduate in the profession of mixing drinks and

attaching slang names to them, Mr. Dusenberry undertook to instruct

him in a choice. The Dutchman was an adept at mixing, and the “morning

pulls” were soon set out to the extreme satisfaction of Dunn and

Dusenberry. “All right! tip her down, my old fellow; none o' yer

screwed faces over such liquor as that. We drink on the legitimate, in

Charleston, and can put it down until we see stars,” said Dusenberry,

addressing himself to Manuel, who was making a wry face, while straining

to swallow the cut-throat stuff.

Dusenberry now left Manuel in charge of Dunn, saying he was going out

to attend to some business. Manuel drew from his pocket a quarter of a

Colombian doubloon, and throwing it upon the counter, told the Dutchman

to give him change. The Dutchman picked it up, turned it over several

times, and squinting at it, inquired, in a very unpretending manner,

what its value was. He knew already, yet this was only done to try

Manuel. At the same moment he winked to Dunn, who, stepping up, gave

it a significant toss upon the counter. “The divil a bit more than two

dollars; all right, Swizer,” said he.

“'Tis four dollar, West Inge-I want my change,” said Manuel, shrugging

his shoulders. “I no want no more than my own; and no man to cheat-e

me.”

“Don't be bothering with your four dollars-sure ye a'n't in the West

Inges now; and money's plenty in Charleston, and I can't bring up so

much-half so much. Don't be bothering with yer West Inge nonsense. If

ye try to raise a fuss here, I'll make the Captain suffer. Ye must learn

that it won't do for a nigger to dispute a white man in Charleston; we'd

twitch ye up by the same law; we'd put it to our own niggers, and ye'd

git trised up, and about fifty paddles on yer bare butt.” The Dutchman

put down a dollar and seventy cents, but Manuel refused to take it up;

when this fellow, Dunn, pretending to be the friend of Manuel, held out

his hand, and telling the bar-keeper to put another dollar, which he

did, he passed it hurriedly into Manuel's hand, and making a pass, told

him to put it into his pocket.

It was now about good business time for the Dutchman, and his customers

were coming in with their bottles and pots in great numbers. The place

was a little filthy hole, very black and dirty, about twelve feet long,

and seven feet wide, with a high board counter almost in the centre. The

only stock-in-trade that decorated it, was a few barrels of lager beer;

several kegs, with names to set forth the different qualities of liquors

painted upon them; a bushel basket about half full of onions, and a few

salt fish in a keg that stood by the door. Around the room were

several benches similar to those in guard-houses. Upon two of them were

stretched two ragged and filthy-looking negroes, who looked as if they

had been spending the night in debauchery. Dunn, as if to show his

authority, limped toward them, and commenced fledging their backs

with his hickory stick in a most unmerciful manner, until one poor old

fellow, with a lame hand, cried out for mercy at the top of his voice.

“It's a bad business keeping these niggers here all night, Swizer-you

know I've done the clean thing with you several times,” said Dunn,

pointing his finger at the Dutchman; who winked, and coming from behind

the counter, slipped something into his hand, and stepping to the door,

assumed some threatning language against the negroes, should they ever

came back to his store. A large portion of those who came for liquor

were negroes, who looked as if they were parting with their last cent

for stimulant, for they were ragged and dirty, and needed bread more

than liquor. Their condition seemed pitiful in the extreme, and yet the

Dutch “corner-shop keeper” actually got rich from their custom, and so

craving was he upon their patronage, that he treated them with much more

courtesy than his white customers.

These “Dutch corner-shops” are notorious places in Charleston, and

are discountenanced by respectable citizens, because they become the

rendezvous of “niggers,” who get into bad habits and neglect their

masters' or mistresses' business. Yet the keepers exert such an

influence at elections, that the officials not only fear them, but in

order to secure their favors, leave their rascality unmolested. Well

might a writer in the Charleston Courier of August 31, 1852, say--

“We were astonished, with many others, at the sweeping charges made in

the resolutions passed at the HUTCHINSON meeting at Hatch's Hall,

and were ready to enlist at once to lend our voice to turn out an

'administration' that for two years permitted 'moral sentiment to

be abandoned,' 'truthfulness disregarded,' 'reverence for religion

obliterated,' 'protection to religious freedom refused,' 'licentiousness

allowed,' 'and a due administration for vice, neglected.'” These charges

stand unrefuted, and with but one or two exceptions, we have never

known one of those unlawful corner shops prosecuted by the present

administration. And those single instances only where they were driven

to notice the most flagrant abuses.

It is strictly “contrary to law in Charleston,” to sell liquor to a

negro without an order from a white man; the penalty being fine

and imprisonment. Yet, so flagrant has become the abuse, that it

is notorious that hush-money is paid by a certain class of Dutch

liquor-sellers to the officers. In nearly all the streets of Charleston,

where there is a shanty or nook large enough to hold a counter and some

tumblers, these wretches may be found dealing out their poisonous drugs

to a poor, half-starved class of negroes, who resort to all kinds of

dishonest means to get money to spend at their counters. These places

are nearly all kept by foreigners, whose merciless avarice scruples at

nothing, however mean. They soon become possessed of considerable means,

and through their courtesy and subserviency to the negro-for they are

the only class of whites that will beg his pardon, if they have offended

him-carry on a sort of active rivalry with each other for his custom. It

is from these miserable hells that seven-tenths of the crimes arise for

which the poor negro is dragged to the work-house and made to suffer

under the paddle.

And yet these very men, whose connivance at vice and crime is

disregarded by the law, rise and take position in society-not only

entering into more respectable business-but joining in that phalanx

who are seeking the life-blood of the old Southerner, and like a silent

moth, working upon his decay. There is a deep significance in the answer

so frequently given in Charleston to the interrogatory, “Who lives in

that splendid dwelling-it seems to have been the mansion of a prince,

but is somewhat decayed?”

“Oh! bless me, yes! It was once the mansion of the So-and-sos, one of

the first families, but they're very poor now. Mr. What-you-may-call-em

owns it now-they say he didn't get it honestly. He kept a little

grog-shop on the Bay, or sold bacon and whisky on the Bay, and made

awful charges against poor So-and-so, and after a long trial in Chancery

he got his house. He's a big fellow; now, I tell you, and is going to

fit the house up for himself!”

Dunn told Manuel to be seated, that there was no occasion for hurrying;

it would be all right if he got to the sheriffs office at nine o'clock;

and then commenced descanting upon the fine time he would have at the

jail. “There's a right good lot of comrades there, me boy; ye'll have

fiddling and dancing, plenty of gals, and a jolly time; and ye a'n't a

criminal, ye know, so it won't be any thing at all, only keep up a stiff

under-lip. Come, let us take another drink; I feel mighty husky this

morning!” said he.

Just at this time Dusenberry re-entered, puffing and blowing as if he

had been engaged in a foot-race. “Another bird for old Grimshaw, at

Commercial Wharf! I know'd she had one aboard, 'cause I seed him from

the wharf,” said he, in perfect ecstasy, pulling out a pencil and making

a note in a little book.

“Don't be a child,” said Dunn. “Come, we have just proposed another

drink; you join of course; ye niver says no,--eh, Duse?” They stepped to

the counter, and Dunn, again, pointing his finger upon his nose at the

Dutchman, who stood with his hands spread upon the counter, called for

gin and bitters, Stoughton light. Turning to Manuel, who was sitting

upon a bench with his head reclined upon his hand, apparently in deep

meditation, he took him by the collar in a rude manner, and dragging him

to the counter, said, “Come, by the pipers, rouse up your spirits, and

don't be sulking, my old Portugee; take another O-be-joyful, and it'll

put ye all right, and ye'll dance a hornpipe like a jim-crack.”

“Excuse me, sir; I think I have taken enough; do, please, either take me

back to my vessel, or where you are going to. This is no place for me!”

said Manuel.

“Sure, what signifies; don't be talking your botheration here; a nigger

musn't sauce a white man. Come, there's no use backing out; you must

take a glass of Swizer's lager beer,” said Dunn.

Manuel looked around him, and then closing up very reluctantly, the

Dutchman filled his glass with frothy beer, and the three touched

glasses and drank. They then retired to a bench and commenced discussing

the propriety of some point of their official privileges, while Manuel

was left standing at the counter.

“Who pay de drink vat shu get?” inquired the Dutchman, anxious to serve

two little niggers who had just come in with bottles in their hands.

“It was our friend's treat; come, my good fellow, do the clean thing

according to Southern science. We'll put a good word in for you to the

jailer; you won't lose nothing by it,” said Dusenberry.

“My friends, I work hard for my money, and have none to spend foolishly.

The small amount is of little consequence, but I would much sooner make

you a present of it, than to be drugged by pretence. I've no desire to

indulge the propensities of others. Whatever you are going to do with

me, do it; and let me know my fate. I am sick and fatigued, and have

need for the doctor. Take me to a prison or where you please. I have

done no crime; I want sleep, not punishment. Next time I shipwrecked,

I get plank and go overboard 'fore I cum to Charleston.” So saying, he

pulled out fifty cents and threw it upon the counter, and the Dutchman

swept it into the drawer, as if it was all right, and “just the change.”

“Shut up, you black rascal, you; you musn't talk that way in South

Carolina; we'll have you stretched on the frame and paddled for

insolence to a white man. D--n me, if you're in such a hurry for it,

just come along,” said Dusenberry; and reaching his hand over to Dunn,

took the handcuffs from him and attempted to put them on Manuel's

wrists. The poor fellow struggled and begged for more than ten minutes,

and was wellnigh overpowering them, when Dusenberry drew a long

dirk-knife from his bosom, and holding it in a threatening attitude

at his breast, uttered one of those fierce yells such as are common to

slave-hunters, whose business it is to hunt and run down runaway niggers

with bloodhounds. “Submit, you black villain, or I'll have your heart's

blood; bring a rope, and we'll trise him up here. Jump, be quick,

Swizer!” said he, addressing himself to the Dutchman. The Dutchman ran

into the front apartment; brought out a cord similar to a clothes-line;

and commenced to undo it.

“Do you give up now?” said Dusenberry, still holding the knife pointed

at him. Manuel was in the habit of carrying a poniard when on shore in

foreign countries, and put his hand to his breast-pocket to feel for

it. He remembered that he had left it in his chest, and that resistance

would be useless against a posse giving expression to such hostility to

him. The shackles were put upon his hands with ruffianly force.

“Oh! am I a man, or am I a brute? What have I done to receive such

treatment? May God look down upon me and forgive me my transgressions;

for in his hands are my rights, and he will give me justice,” said

Manuel, looking his cruel torturers in the face.

“A man! No, by heavens, you're a nigger; an' it's that we'd he teaching

you! Come, none of yer sermons here, trot off! We'll give you a

handkerchief to cover your hands, if you're so d--d delicate about

walking through the streets,” said Dunn, throwing him an old red

handkerchief, and marching him along through Broad street. Dusenberry

now left him entirely in the charge of Dunn; while, as he said, he went

to Adger's Wharf to keep his eye on another vessel that was approaching

the dock. The tricks of this man Dunn were well known to those,

connected with the police and sheriff's office; but, instead of being

displaced for his many offences, he was looked upon by them as the best

officer upon the rolls; and in fishing for mischievous niggers he was

held as a perfect paragon. In this instance he was not contented with

the outrages he had inflicted upon Manuel at the Dutch grog-shop, which

he had forced him into, but he would stop in the public street to hold

conversation with every cove he met, and keep the poor man standing for

public gaze, like chained innocence awaiting the nod of a villain. The

picture would have been complete, if a monster in human form were placed

in the foreground applying the lash, according to the statute laws of

South Carolina.

CHAPTER XI. THE SHERIFF'S OFFICE.

IT is nine o'clock, on the morning of the 24th March, 1852. Manuel was

marched into the sheriff's office, situated in the court-house, on the

corner of Broad and Meeting streets. A large table stood in the centre

of the room, covered with sundry old papers and an inkstand. At one side

was an old sofa, bearing strong evidence of its being worn out at the

expense of the State. A few pine-wood and painted book-stands, several

tip-staffs, old broken-backed chairs, and last, but not least, a

wood-sawyer's buck-saw, stood here and there in beautiful disorder

around the room; while, as if to display the immense importance of the

office, a “cocked” hat with the judicial sword hung conspicuously above

the old sofa. A door opened upon the left hand, leading into the clerk's

office, where the books and archives of the office were kept. Mr.

Kanapeaux, the incumbent, exhibited a great deal of good feeling, which

it would have lost the sheriff none of his reputation to pattern after,

and kept his office in very respectable order.

“Come in 'ere, Manwell, or whatever yer name is,” said Dunn, as he led

the way into the presence of Mr. Grimshaw, the lean, haggard-looking man

we have before described. His dark, craven features, as he sat peering

through his glasses at the morning news, gave him the appearance of a

man of whom little was, to be expected by those who had the misfortune

to fall into his hands.

“Ah! Dunn, you are the best officer in the city; 'pon my soul, these

fellows can't escape you! Where did you pick up that nigger?” said he,

with a look of satisfaction.

“A fat fee case, Mr. Grimshaw, 'contrary to law;' he's a Portugee

nigger. Never had so much trouble with a nigger in my life; I didn't

know but the fellow was going to preach a sermon. The Captain-he belongs

to a wrecked Englishman-wanted to come the gammon game with him, and

pass him for a white man; but sure he couldn't come that game over

meself and Duse, anyhow,” said Dunn.

Without saying a word, Manuel stood up before his accusers, upon this

strange charge of “contrary to law.”

As he looked upon his accusers, he said, “What have I done to suffer a

murderer's fate? Am I to be sold as a slave, because of the visitation

of God? I have done no murder! No!--nor have I stolen in your land! and

why did these men decoy me into”--

“Silence! silence! You are in the sheriff's office,” said Dunn, pointing

his finger at his nose. “You can't come your John Bull nigger in South

Carolina.”

This brought the sheriff's clerk to the door that led into the passage.

“Dunn, I have warned you about these things several times; the public

are getting wind of them; they'll bring this office into disrepute yet.

You ought to know what effect the association of officials with these

'corner-shop keepers' is already having in the community,” said he.

“How the divil do ye know what yer talking about; sure it's his honor's

bisniss, and not yours at all, at all,” said Dunn, addressing himself to

Mr. Kanapeaux, and then looking at Mr. Grimshaw.

“Mr. Kanapeaux, you must not interfere with the officers and their

duty; attend to your business, and get, your book ready to register this

nigger-boy,” said Grimshaw.

“Well, now, my good fellow,” continued Grimshaw, “I dislike this

business very much; it don't pay me enough for all the bother I have

with it. 'Tis just a little filtering of fees, which makes the duty of

my office exceedingly annoying. But we must respect the law. We do these

things to protect our institutions and make them as light as possible. I

might give you a great deal of trouble; I have the power, but I make it

a point to consider men in your case, and we'll make you so comfortable

that you won't think of being imprisoned. You must understand that it is

'contrary to law' to come among our niggers in this way; it gives them

fanciful ideas. There's such an infernal imperfect state of things as

these abolitionists are getting every thing into, behooves us to watch

the communications which are going on between, designing people and our

slaves. We are a hospitable people--the world knows that--and have a

religious respect for our laws, which we enforce without respect to

persons. We'd like to let you go about the city, but then it's 'contrary

to law.' Make up your mind, my good fellow, that you are among humane

people, who will seek to benefit you among men of your class. Make

yourself happy--and look upon me as a friend, and you will never be

deceived. I control the jail, and my prisoners are as much attached to

me as they would be to a father.”

“It must be humanity that puts these symbols of ignominy upon my hands,”

said Manuel; “that confines me in a dungeon lest I should breathe a word

of liberty to ears that know it only as a fable.”

Nobody had asked him to sit down, and, feeling the effect of his

sickness and fatigue, he turned around as if to look for something

to rest against. “You must not sit down,--take off your hat!” said

Grimshaw.

The poor fellow made an effort, but could not effect it with the fetters

on his hands; at which, Dunn stepped up, and snatching it from his head,

flung it upon the floor. “You should learn manners, my good fellow,”

said Grimshaw, “when you come into a sheriff's office. It's a place of

importance, and people always pay respect to it when they come into it;

a few months in Charleston would make you as polite as our niggers.”

“Had you not better take the irons off the poor fellow's hands?--he

looks as if he was tired out,” said Mr. Kanapeaux, the clerk, who again

came to the door and looked upon Manuel with an air of pity. The words

of sympathy touched his feelings deeply; it was a simple word in his

favour, so different from what he had met since he left the vessel, that

he felt a kind friend had spoken in his behalf, and he gave way to his

feeling in a gush of tears.

“Good suggestion, Mr. Kanapeaux!” said Grimshaw. “Better take 'em off,

Mr. Dunn; I don't think he'll give you any more difficulty. He seems

like a 'likely fellow,' and knows, if he cuts up any nigger rascality

in Charleston, he'll be snapped up. Now, my good fellow, put on your

best-natured countenance, and stand as straight as a ramrod. Mr.

Kanapeaux, get your book ready to register him,” continued Grimshaw.

Manuel now stood up under a slide, and his height and general features

were noted in the following manner, in order to appease that sovereign

dignity of South Carolina law, which has so many strange devices to show

its importance:--“Contrary to Law.” Violation of the Act of 1821, as

amended, &c. &c. Manuel Pereira vs. State of South Carolina, Steward on

board British Brig Janson, Captain Thompson. Entered 24th March, 1852.

Height, 5 feet 8 1/2 inches.

Complexion, light olive, (bright.)

Features, sharp and aquiline.

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

General remarks:--Age, twenty-nine; Portuguese by birth; speaks rather

broken, but politely; is intelligent, well formed, and good looking.

Fees to Sheriff:

To arrest, $2--Registry, $2 - $4 00 To Recog. $1.31--Constable. $1 - $2.31 To

Commitment and discharge, $1.00

$7.31

Jail fees to be added when discharged.

After these remarks were duly entered, and Mr. Grimshaw read another

lecture to him on the importance of South Carolina law, and the kindness

he would receive at his hands if he made himself con-tented, he was told

that he could go and be committed. The poor fellow had stood up until he

was nearly exhausted; yet, it was not enough to gratify the feelings

of that miserable miscreant, Dunn. Scarcely had he left the sheriff's

office, or passed two squares from the court-house, before he entered

another Dutch grog-shop, a little more respectable in appearance-but

not in character. They entered by a side door, which led into a back

apartment provided with a table and two wooden settees. As Dunn entered,

he was recognised by two negro-fellows, who were playing dominoes at the

table. They arose and ran through the front store, into the street, as

if some evil spirit had descended among them. The Dutchman sprang

for the dominoes, and quickly thrust them into a tin measure which he

secreted under the counter.

“Ah! Drydez!” said Dunn; “you vagabond, you; up to the old tricks again?

Ye Dutchmen are worse than the divil! It's meself'll make ye put a five

for that. Come, fork it over straight, and don't be muttering yer Dutch

lingo!”

“Vat zue drink mit me dis morning? Misser Dunz' te best fellow vat comez

in my shop,” said Drydez.

“Ah! stop yer botheration, and don't be comin' yer Dutch logger over

an Irishman! put down the five dollars, and we'll take the drinks

presently; meself and me friend here'll drink yer health,” said Dunn,

pointing to Manuel, who shook his head as much as to decline. The

Dutchman now opened his drawer, and rolling a bill up in his fingers,

passed it as if unobserved into the hands of Dunn.

“Now, Drydez,” said Dunn, “if ye want to do the clean thing, put a

couple of brandy smashes-none of your d--d Dutch cut-throat brandy-the

best old stuff. Come, me old chuck, (turning to Manuel and pulling him

by the Whiskers,) cheer up, another good stiff'ner will put you on your

taps again. South Carolina's a great State, and a man what can't

be happy in Charleston, ought to be put through by daylight by the

abolitionists.”

The Dutchman soon prepared the smashes, and supplying them with straws,

put them upon the table, and seated chairs close at hand. “Excuse me!”

said Manuel, “I've drunk enough already, and should like to lie down.

I am unwell, and feel the effect of what I have already taken. I am

too feeble. Pray tell me how far the prison is from here, and I will go

myself.”

“Go, is it?--the divil a go ye'll go from this until ye drink the smash.

None of yer Portugee independence here. We larn niggers the politeness

of gintlemen in Charleston, me buck!” and seizing him by the collar,

dragged him to the table, then grasping the tumbler with the other hand,

he held it before his face. “Do you see that? and, bedad, ye'll drink

it, and not be foolin', or I'd put the contents in your phiz,” said he.

Manuel took the glass, while the Dutchman stood chuckling over the very

nice piece of fun, and the spice of Mr. Dunn's wit, as he called it.

“Vat zu make him vat'e no vants too? You doz make me laugh so ven zu

comes 'ere, I likes to kilt myself,” said Drydez.

A bright mulatto-fellow was now seen in the front store, making

quizzical signs to the Dutchman; who understanding its signification,

lost no time in slipping into his pocket a tumbler nearly half full of

brandy and water; and stepping behind the division door, passed it slily

to the mulatto, who equally as slily passed it down his throat; and

putting a piece of money into the Dutchman's hand, stepped up to the

counter, as if to wait for his change. “All right!” said the Dutchman,

looking around at his shelves, and then again under the counter.

“No so!” said the mulatto; “I want fourpence; you done' dat befor'

several times; I wants my money.”

“Get out of my store, or I'll kick you out,” said the Dutchman, and

catching up a big club, ran from behind the counter and commenced

belaboring the negro over the head in a most unmerciful manner. At this,

the mulatto retreated into the lane, and with a volley of the vilest

epithets, dared the Dutchman to come out, and he would whip him.

Dunn ran to the scene, and ordered the negro to be off, and not use such

language to a white man, that it was “contrary to law,” and he would

take him to the workhouse.

“Why, massa, I knows what 'em respect white men what be gemmen like

yersef, but dat Dutchman stand da'h a'n't no gentlem', he done gone

tieffe my money seven time; an' I whip him sure-jus' lef' him come out

here. I doesn't care for true, and God saw me, I be whip at the wukhouse

next minute. He tief, an' lie, an 'e cheat me.” The Dutchman stood at

the door with the big stick in his hand-the negro in the middle of the

lane with his fists in a pugilistic attitude, daring and threatening,

while the limping Dunn stood by the side of the Dutchman, acting as

a mediator. Manuel, taking advantage of the opportunity, emptied his

tumbler down a large opening in the floor.

It is a notorious fact in Charleston, that although the negro, whether

he be a black or white one, is held in abject obedience to the white man

proper, no matter what his grade may be, yet such is the covetous and

condescending character of these groggery keepers, that they become

courteous to the negro and submit to an equality of sociability. The

negro, taking advantage of this familiarity, will use the most insulting

and abusive language to this class of Dutchmen, who, either through

cowardice, or fear of losing their trade, never resent it. We may say,

in the language of Dunn, when he was asked if negroes had such liberties

with white men in Charleston, “A nigger knows a Dutch shopkeeper better

than he knows himself-a nigger dare not speak that way to anybody else.”

The Dutchman gets a double profit from the negro, and with it diffuses

a double vice among them, for which they have to suffer the severest

penalty. It is strictly “contrary to law” to purchase any thing from

a negro without a ticket to sell it, from his master. But how is this

regarded? Why, the shopkeeper foregoes the ticket, encourages the

warehouse negro to steal, and purchases his stealings indiscriminately,

at about one-half their value. We might enumerate fifty different modes

practised by “good” legal voting citizens--totally regardless of the

law--and exerting an influence upon the negro tenfold more direful

than that which could possibly arise from the conversation of a few

respectable men belonging to a friendly nation.

Dunn, after driving the mulatto man from the door and upbraiding the

Dutchman for his cowardice, returned to the table, and patting Manuel

upon the back, drank the balance of his smash, saying, “Come, me good

fellow, we must do the thing up brown, now; we've got the Dutchman

nailed on his own hook. We must have another horn; it's just the stuff

in our climate; the 'Old Jug's' close by, and they'll be makin' a parson

of you when you get there. We've had a right jolly time; and ye can't

wet your whistle when ye're fernint the gates.”

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

“Fill her up, Drydez! fill her up! two more smashes-best brandy and

no mistake. You must drink another, my old chuck-we'll bring the pious

notions out o' ye in Charleston,” said Dunn, turning around to Manuel.

The Dutchman filled the glasses, and Dunn, laying his big hickory stick

upon the counter, took one in each hand, and going directly to Manuel,

“There, take it, and drink her off-no humbugging; yer mother niver gave

such milk as that,” said he.

“Excuse me, sir; I positively will not!” said Manuel, and no sooner had

he lisped the words, than Dunn threw the whole contents in his face.

Enraged at such outrageous conduct, the poor fellow could stand it no

longer, and fetched him a blow that levelled him upon the floor.

The Dutchman ran to the assistance of Dunn, and succeeded in relieving

him from his unenviable situation. Not satisfied, however, they

succeeded, after a hard struggle, in getting him upon the floor, when

the Dutchman-after calling the assistance of a miserable negro, held

him down while Dunn beat him with his stick. His cries of “Murder” and

“Help” resounded throughout the neighbourhood, and notwithstanding they

attempted to gag him, brought several persons to the spot. Among them

was a well-known master builder, in Charleston-a very muscular and a

very humane man. The rascality of Dunn was no new thing to him, for he

had had practical demonstrations of it upon his own negroes,--who had

been enticed into the “corner shops” for the double purpose of the

Dutchmen getting their money, and the officers getting hush-money from

the owner.

The moment he saw Dunn, he exclaimed, “Ah! you vagabond!” and springing

with the nimbleness of a cat, struck the Dutchman a blow that sent him

measuring his length, into a corner among a lot of empty boxes; then

seizing Dunn by the collar, he shook him like a puppy, and brought him

a slap with his open hand that double-dyed his red face, and brought a

stream of claret from his nose; while the miserable nigger, who had been

struggling to hold Manuel down, let go his hold, and ran as if his life

was in danger. The scene was disgusting in the extreme. Manuel arose,

with his face cut in several places, his clothes bedaubed with filth

from the floor, and his neck and shirt-bosom covered with blood; while

the aghast features of Dunn, with his red, matted hair, and his glaring,

vicious eyes, bespattered with the combined blood of his victim and his

own nasal organ, gave him the most fiendish look imaginable.

The gentleman, after reprimanding the Dutchman for keeping up these

miserable practices, which were disgracing the community, and bringing

suffering, starvation, and death upon the slaves, turned to Dunn, and

addressed him. “You are a pretty officer of the law! A villain upon the

highway-a disgrace to your color, and a stain upon those who retain

you in office. A man who has violated the peace and every principle of

honest duty, a man who every day merits the worst criminal punishment,

kept in the favor of the municipal department, to pollute its very name.

If there is a spark of honesty left in the police department, I will use

my influence to stop your conduct. The gallows will be your doom yet.

You must not think because you are leagued in the same traffic.”

Dunn kept one of the worst and most notorious drinking-shops in

Charleston, but, to reconcile his office with that strict requirement

which never allowed any thing “contrary to law” in Charleston, he made

his wife a “free trader.” This special set of South Carolina may in

effect be classed among its many singular laws. It has an exceedingly

accommodating effect among bankrupt husbands, and acts as a masked

battery for innumerable sins in a business or official line. It so

happens, once in a while, that one of the “fair free dealers” gets

into limbo through the force of some ruthless creditor; and the “Prison

Bounds Act,” being very delicate in its bearings, frequently taxes the

gallantry of the chivalrous gentlemen of the Charleston bar that you are

to go unpunished. And you, Drydez,” said he, turning to the Dutchman, “I

shall enter you upon the information docket, as soon as I go down into

the city.”

“Zeu may tu vat zeu plas mit me-te mayor bees my friend, an' he knowz

vot me ams. Yuz sees zel no bronty, no zin! Vot yu to mit de fine, ah?”

* * *

“I'd like to see you do that same agin Mr.--. It wouldn't be savin'

yerself a pace-warrant, and another for assault and battery! Sure

magistrate Gyles is a first-rate friend of me own, and he'd not suffer

me imposed on. The d--d nigger was obstinate and wouldn't go to jail,”

said Dunn in a cowardly, whimpering manner.

“Oh yez, me heard mit 'im swore, vat he no go to zale!” rejoined the

Dutchman anxiously.

“Tell me none of your lies,” said he; “you are both the biggest rascals

in town, and carry on your concerted villany as boldly as if you had

the control of the city in your hands.” Manuel was trembling under the

emotions of grief and revenge. His Portuguese blood would have revenged

itself at the poniard's point, but fortunately he had left it in his

chest. He saw that he had a friend at his hand, and with the earnestness

of a child, resigned himself to his charge.

In a few minutes quiet was produced, and the gentleman expressing a

desire to know how the trouble originated, inquired of Manuel how it

was brought about. But no sooner had he commenced his story, than he was

interrupted by Dunn asserting his right, according to the laws of South

Carolina, to make his declaration, which could not be refuted by the

negro's statement, or even testimony at law; and in another moment

jumped up, and taking Manuel by the collar, commanded him to come along

to jail; and turning to the gentleman, dared him to interfere with his

duty.

“I know how you take people to jail, very well. I'll now see that you

perform that duty properly, and not torture prisoners from place to

place before you get there. You inflict a worse punishment in taking

poor, helpless people to jail, than they suffer after they get there!”

said he; and immediately joined Manuel and walked to the jail with him.

CHAPTER XII. THE OLD JAIL.

THERE are three institutions in Charleston-either of which would be

a stain upon the name of civilization-standing as emblems of the

time-established notions of a people, and their cherished love for

the ancestral relics of a gone-by age. Nothing could point with more

unerring aim than these sombre monuments do, to the distance behind the

age that marks the thoughts and actions of the Charlestonians. They are

the poor-house, hospital, and jail; but as the latter only pertains

to our present subject, we prefer to speak of it alone, and leave

the others for another occasion. The workhouse may be said to form an

exception-that being a new building, recently erected upon a European

plan. It is very spacious, with an extravagant exterior, surmounted

by lofty semi-Gothic watch-towers, similar to the old castles upon the

Rhine. So great was the opposition to building this magnificent temple

of a workhouse, and so inconsistent, beyond the progress of the age,

was it viewed by the “manifest ancestry,” that it caused the mayor his

defeat at the following hustings. “Young Charleston” was rebuked for its

daring progress, and the building is marked by the singular cognomen

of “Hutchinson's Folly.” What is somewhat singular, this magnificent

building is exclusively for negroes. One fact will show how progressive

has been the science of law to govern the negro, while those to which

the white man is subjected are such as good old England conferred upon

them some centuries ago. For felonious and burglarious offences, a white

man is confined in the common jail; then dragged to the market-place,

stripped, and whipped, that the negroes may laugh “and go see buckra

catch it;” while a negro is sent to the workhouse, confined in his cell

for a length of time, and then whipped according to modern science,--but

nobody sees it except by special permission. Thus the negro has the

advantage of science and privacy.

The jail is a sombre-looking building, with every mark of antiquity

standing boldly outlined upon its exterior. It is surrounded by a

high brick wall, and its windows are grated with double rows of bars,

sufficiently strong for a modern penitentiary. Altogether, its dark,

gloomy appearance strikes those who approach it, with the thought and

association of some ancient cruelty. You enter through an iron-barred

door, and on both sides of a narrow portal leading to the right are four

small cells and a filthy-looking kitchen, resembling an old-fashioned

smoke-house. These cells are the debtors'; and as we were passing out,

after visiting a friend, a lame “molatto-fellow” with scarcely rags to

cover his nakedness, and filthy beyond description, stood at what was

called the kitchen door. “That poor dejected object,” said our friend,

“is the cook. He is in for misdemeanor-one of the peculiar shades of

it, for which a nigger is honored with the jail.” “It seems, then, that

cooking is a punishment in Charleston, and the negro is undergoing the

penalty,” said we. “Yes!” said our friend; “but the poor fellow has a

sovereign consolation, which few niggers in Charleston can boast of-and

none of the prisoners here have-he can get enough to eat.”

The poor fellow held out his hand as we passed him, and said, “Massa,

gin poor Abe a piece o' 'bacca'?” We freely gave him all in our

possession.

On the left side, after passing the main iron door, are the jailer's

apartments. Passing through another iron door, you ascend a narrow,

crooked stairs and reach the second story; here are some eight or nine

miserable cells-some large and some small-badly ventilated, and entirely

destitute of any kind of furniture: and if they are badly ventilated

for summer, they are equally badly provided with means to warm them in

winter. In one of these rooms were nine or ten persons, when we visited

it; and such was the morbid stench escaping from it, that we were

compelled to put our handkerchiefs to our faces. This floor is

appropriated for such crimes as assault and battery; assault and

battery, with intent to kill; refractory seamen; deserters; violating

the statutes; suspicion of arson and murder; witnesses; all sorts of

crimes, varying from the debtor to the positive murderer, burglar,

and felon. We should have enumerated, among the rest, all stewards,

(colored,) whether foreign or domestic, who are committed on that

singular charge, “contrary to law.” And it should have been added, even

though cast away upon our “hospitable shores.” Among all these different

shades of criminals, there must be some very bad men. And we could

recount three who were pointed out to us, as very dangerous men, yet

were allowed the favor of this floor and its associations. One was

an Irish sailor, who was sentenced to three years and nine months'

imprisonment by the United States court, for revolt and a desperate

attempt to murder the captain of a ship; the next was a German, a

soldier in the United States army, sentenced to one year and eight

months' imprisonment for killing his comrade; and the third was an

English sailor, who killed a woman-but as she happened to be of doubtful

character, the presiding judge of the sessions sentenced him to a light

imprisonment, which the Governor very condescendingly pardoned after a

few weeks.

The two former acted as attendants, or deputy jailers; with the

exception of turning the key, which privilege the jailer reserved for

himself exclusively. The principle may seem a strange one, that places

men confined upon such grave charges in a superior position over

prisoners; and may be questionable with regard to the discipline itself.

From this floor, another iron door opened, and a winding passage led

into the third and upper story, where a third iron door opened into a

vestibule, on the right and left of which were grated doors secured with

heavy bolts and bars. These opened into narrow portals with dark, gloomy

cells on each side. In the floor of each of these cells was a large iron

ring-bolt, doubtless intended to chain refractory prisoners to; but we

were informed that such prisoners were kept in close stone cells, in

the yard, which were commonly occupied by negroes and those condemned

to capital punishment. The ominous name of this third story was “Mount

Rascal,” intended, no doubt, as significant of the class of prisoners

it contained. It is said that genius is never idle: the floor of these

cells bore some evidence of the fact in a variety of very fine specimens

of carving and flourish work, done with a knife. Among them was a

well-executed crucifix; with the Redeemer, on Calvary-an emblem of hope,

showing how the man marked the weary moments of his durance. We spoke

with many of the prisoners, and heard their different stories, some of

which were really painful. Their crimes were variously stated, from that

of murder, arson, and picking pockets, down to the felon who had stolen

a pair of shoes to cover his feet; one had stolen a pair of pantaloons,

and a little boy had stolen a few door-keys. Three boys were undergoing

their sentence for murder. A man of genteel appearance, who had been

sentenced to three years imprisonment, and to receive two hundred and

twenty lashes in the market, at different periods, complained bitterly

of the injustice of his case. Some had been flogged in the market, and

were awaiting their time to be flogged again and discharged; and others

were confined on suspicion, and had been kept in this close durance

for more than six months, awaiting trial. We noticed that this worst of

injustice, “the law's delay,” was felt worse by those confined on the

suspicion of some paltry theft, who, even were they found guilty by a

jury, would not have been subjected to more than one week imprisonment.

Yet such was the adherence to that ancient system of English criminal

jurisprudence, that it was almost impossible for the most innocent

person to get a hearing, except at the regular sessions, “which sit

seldom, and with large intervals between.” There is indeed a city

court in Charleston, somewhat more modern in its jurisprudence than the

sessions. It has its city sheriff, and its city officers, and holds its

terms more frequently. Thus is Charleston doubly provided with sheriffs

and officials. Both aspire to a distinct jurisdiction in civil and

criminal cases. Prisoners seem mere shuttlecocks between the sheriffs,

with a decided advantage in favor of the county sheriff, who is autocrat

in rei over the jail; and any criminal who has the good fortune to get

a hearing before the city judge, may consider himself under special

obligation to the county sheriff for the favor.

We noticed these cells were much cleaner than those below, yet there

was a fetid smell escaping from them. This we found arose from the tubs

being allowed to stand in the rooms, where the criminals were closely

confined, for twenty-four hours, which, with the action of the damp,

heated atmosphere of that climate, was of itself enough to breed

contagion. We spoke of the want of ventilation and the noxious fumes

that seemed almost pestilential, but they seemed to have become

habituated to it, and told us that the rooms on the south side were

lighter and more comfortable. Many of them spoke cheerfully, and

endeavored to restrain their feelings, but the furrows upon their

haggard countenances needed no tongue to utter its tale.

Hunger was the great grievance of which they complained; and if

their stories were true--and we afterward had strong proofs that they

were--there was a wanton disregard of common humanity, and an abuse of

power the most reprehensible. The allowance per day was a loaf of bad

bread, weighing about nine ounces, and a pint of thin, repulsive soup,

so nauseous that only the most necessitated appetite could be forced

to receive it, merely to sustain animal life. This was served in a

dirty-looking tin pan, without even a spoon to serve it. One man told us

that he had subsisted on bread and water for nearly five weeks-that

he had lain down to sleep in the afternoon and dreamed that he was

devouring some wholesome nourishment to stay the cravings of his

appetite, and awoke to grieve that it was but a dream. In this manner

his appetite was doubly aggravated, yet he could get nothing to appease

its wants until the next morning. To add to this cruelty, we found two

men in close confinement, the most emaciated and abject specimens of

humanity we have ever beheld. We asked ourselves, “Lord God! was it

to be that humanity should descend so low?” The first was a forlorn,

dejected-looking creature, with a downcast countenance, containing

little of the human to mark his features. His face was covered with

hair, and so completely matted with dirt and made fiendish by the tufts

of coarse hair that hung over his forehead, that a thrill of horror

invaded our feelings. He had no shoes on his feet; and a pair of ragged

pantaloons, and the shreds of a striped shirt without sleeves, secured

around the waist with a string, made his only clothing. In truth, he had

scarce enough on to cover his nakedness, and that so filthy and swarming

with vermin, that he kept his shoulders and hands busily employed; while

his skin was so incrusted with dirt as to leave no trace of its original

complexion. In this manner he was kept closely confined, and was more

like a wild beast who saw none but his keepers when they came to throw

him his feed. Whether he was kept in this manner for his dark deeds or

to cover the shame of those who speculated upon his misery, we leave to

the judgment of the reader.

We asked this poor mortal what he had done to merit such a punishment?

He held his head down, and motioned his fevered lips. “Speak out!” said

we, “perhaps we can get you out.” “I had no shoes, and I took a pair

of boots from the gentleman I worked with,” said he in a low, murmuring

tone,

“Gracious, man!” said we, “a pair of boots! and is that all you are here

for?”

“Yes, sir! he lives on the wharf, is very wealthy, and is a good man:

't wasn't his fault, because he tried to get me out if I'd pay for the

boots, but they wouldn't let him.”

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

“Better than five months-but it's because there a'n't room up stairs.

They've been promising me some clothes for a long time, but they don't

come,” he continued.

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

“Well, they say 'at court sets in October; it's somethin' like two

months off; the grand jury'll visit the jail then, and maybe they'll

find a bill' against me, and I'll be tried. I dont't care if they only

don't flog me in that fish-market.”

“Then you have not been tried yet? Well, may God give that man peace

to enjoy his bounty, who would consign a poor object like thee to such

cruelty!” said we.

“I was raised in Charleston-can neither read nor write-I have no father,

and my mother is crazy in the poor-house, and I work about the city for

a living, when I'm out!” said he. There was food for reflection in

this poor fellow's simple story, which we found to be correct, as

corroborated by the jailer.

“Do you get enough to eat?” we asked.

“Oh no, indeed! I could eat twice as much-that's the worst on't: 't

wouldn't be bad only for that. I git me loaf' in the mornin', and me

soup at twelve, but I don't git nothin' to eat at night, and a feller's

mighty hungry afore it's time to lay down,” said he.

We looked around the room, and not seeing any thing to sleep upon,

curiosity led us to ask him where he slept.

“The jail allows us a blanket-that's mine in the corner: I spread it

at night when I wants to go to bed,” he answered, quite contentedly. We

left the poor wretch, for our feelings could withstand it no longer. The

state of society that would thus reduce a human being, needed more pity

than the calloused bones reduced to such a bed. His name was Bergen.

The other was a young Irishman, who had been dragged to jail in his

shirt, pantaloons, and hat, on suspicion of having stolen seven dollars

from a comrade. He had been in jail very near four months, and in regard

to filth and vermin was a counterpart of the other. A death-like smell,

so offensive that we stopped upon the threshold, escaped from the room

as soon as the door opened, enough to destroy a common constitution,

which his emaciated limbs bore the strongest evidence of.

The prisoners upon the second story were allowed the privilege of the

yard during certain hours in the day, and the debtors at all hours in

the day; yet, all were subjected to the same fare. In the yard were a

number of very close cells, which, as we have said before, were kept

for negroes, refractory criminals, and those condemned to capital

punishment. These cells seemed to be held as a terror over the

criminals, and well they might, for we never witnessed any thing more

dismal for the tenement of man.

CHAPTER XIII. HOW IT IS.

IT is our object to show the reader how many gross abuses of power exist

in Charleston, and to point him to the source. In doing this, the task

becomes a delicate one, for there are so many things we could wish were

not so, because we know there are many good men in the community whose

feelings are enlisted in the right, but their power is not coequal; and

if it were, it is checked by an opposite influence.

The more intelligent of the lower classes look upon the subject of

politics in its proper light--they see the crashing effect the doctrine

of nullification has upon their interests; yet, though their numbers

are not few, their voice is small, and cannot sound through the channels

that make popular influence. Thus all castes of society are governed by

impracticable abstractions.

The jail belongs to the county--the municipal authorities have no voice

in it; and the State, in its legislative benevolence, has provided

thirty cents a day for the maintenance of each prisoner. This small sum,

in the State of South Carolina, where provision is extremely high, may

be considered as a paltry pittance; but more especially so when the

magnificent pretensions of South Carolina are taken into consideration,

and a comparison is made between this meagre allowance and that of other

States. Even Georgia, her sister State, and one whose plain modesty is

really worthy of her enterprising citizens, takes a more enlightened

view of a criminal's circumstances-allows forty-four cents a day for his

maintenance, and treats him as if he was really a human being. But

for this disparity and the wanton neglect of humane feelings South

Carolinians excuse themselves upon the ground that they have no

penitentiary; nor do they believe in that system of punishment,

contending that it creates an improper competition with the honest

mechanic, and gives countenance to crime, because it attempts to improve

criminals. The common jail is made the place of confinement, while the

whipping-post and starvation supply the correctives.

The sheriff being created an absolute functionary, with unlimited

powers to control the jail in all its varied functions, without either

commissioners or jail-committee, what state of management may be

expected? The court gives no specific direction as to the apartment or

mode of confinement when sentencing a criminal; consequently, it becomes

an established fact that the legislative confidence deposed in the

sheriff is used as a medium of favors, to be dispensed as best suits the

feelings or interests of the incumbent. Such power in the hands of an

arbitrary, vindictive, or avaricious man, affords unlimited means of

abuse, and without fear of exposure.

It may be inferred from what we have said that the jailer was relax in

his duty. This is not the case, for we have good authority that a more

kind-hearted and benevolent man never filled the office. But his power

was so restricted by those in absolute control, that his office became a

mere turnkey's duty, for which he was paid the pittance of five hundred

dollars a year or thereabouts. Thus he discharged his duty according to

the instructions of the sheriff, who, it was well known, looked upon

the jail as a means of speculation; and in carrying out his purposes, he

would give very benevolent instructions in words, and at the same time

withhold the means of carrying them out, like the very good man who

always preached but never practised.

Now, how is it? What is the regimen of this jail-prison and how is it

provided? We will say nothing of that arduous duty which the jailer

performs for his small sum; nor the report that the sheriff's office

is worth fourteen thousand dollars a year: these things are too well

established. But the law provides thirty cents a day for the prisoner's

maintenance, which shall be received by the sheriff, who is to procure

one pound of good bread, and one pound of good beef per day for each

man. Now this provision is capable of a very elastic construction. The

poor criminal is given a loaf of bad bread, costing about three cents,

and a pound of meat, the most unwholesome and sickly in its appearance,

costing five cents. Allowing a margin, however, and we may say the

incumbent has a very nice profit of from eighteen to twenty cents

per day on each prisoner. But, as no provision is made against the

possibility of the criminal eating his meat raw, he is very delicately

forced to an alternative which has another profitable issue for the

sheriff; that of taking a pint of diluted water, very improperly called

soup. Thus is carried out that ancient law of England which even she

is now ashamed to own. Our feelings are naturally roused against the

perpetration of such abuses upon suffering humanity. We struggle between

a wish to speak well of her whose power it is to practise them, and an

imperative duty that commands us to speak for those who cannot speak for

themselves.

These things could not exist if the public mind was properly

enlightened. It is unnecessary to spend many words in exposing

such palpable abuses, or to trace the cause of their existence and

continuance. One cause of this is the wilful blindness and silly

gasconade of some of those who lead and form public opinion. With South

Carolinians, nothing is done in South Carolina that is not greater than

ever was done in the United States-no battles were ever fought that

South Carolina did not win-no statesman was ever equal to Mr. Calhoun-no

confederacy would be equal to the Southern, with South Carolina at its

head-no political doctrines contain so much vital element as secession,

and no society in the Union is equal to South Carolina for caste and

elegance-not excepting the worthy and learned aristocracy of Boston.

A will to do as it pleases and act as it pleases, without national

restraint, is the great drawback under which South Carolina sends forth

her groaning tale of political distress. Let her look upon her dubious

glory in its proper light-let her observe the rights of others, and

found her acts in justice!--annihilate her grasping spirit, and she will

find a power adequate to her own preservation. She can then show to the

world that she gives encouragement to the masses, and is determined to

persevere in that moderate and forbearing policy which creates its own

protection, merits admiration abroad, instead of rebuke, and which

needs no gorgeous military display to marshal peace at the point of the

bayonet.

CHAPTER XIV. MANUEL PEREIRA COMMITTED.

IT was nearly eleven o'clock as they ascended the jail steps and rang

the bell for admittance. The jailer, a stout, rough-looking man, opened

the iron door, and as Manuel was about to step over the stone sill, Dunn

gave him a sudden push that sent him headlong upon the floor. “Heavens!

what now?” inquired the jailer with a look of astonishment, and at the

next moment Dunn raised his foot to kick Manuel in the face.

“You infernal beast!” said the jailer, “you are more like a savage than

a man-you are drunk now, you vagabond,” and jumped in between them to

save him from the effect of the blow. As he did this, the gentleman who

accompanied them from the “corner-shop,” as a protection against Dunn's

cruelty, fetched Dunn a blow on the back of the neck that made him

stagger against a door, and created such confusion as to arouse the

whole jail. Turning to Manuel, he, with the assistance of the jailer,

raised him from the ground and led him into the jail-office. “Mister

jailer,” said Dunn, “the prisoner is mine until such times as you

receipt the commitment, and I demand protection from you against this

man. He has committed two violent assaults upon me, when I'd be doing me

duty.”

“You have violated all duty, and are more like an incarnate fiend. You

first decoy men into rum-shops, and then you plunder and abuse them,

because you think they are black and can get no redress. You abused that

man unmercifully, because you knew his evidence was not valid against

you!” said the gentleman, turning to the jailer, and giving him the

particulars of what he saw in the “corner-shop,” and what cruelties he

had seen practised by Dunn on former occasions.

The jailer looked upon Manuel with commiseration, and handed him a chair

to sit down on. The poor fellow was excited and fatigued, for he had

eaten nothing that day, and been treated more like a brute than a human

being from the time, he left the ship until he arrived at the jail. He

readily accepted the kind offer, and commenced to tell the story of his

treatment.

“You need' not tell me,--I know too much of that man already. It has

long been a mystery to me why he is retained in office.”--

Here Dunn interrupted. “Sure it's yer master I'd obey and not yerself,

an' I'd do what I'd plase with prisoners, and, it's his business and not

yeers. If ye had yer way, sure you'd be makin' white men of every nigger

that ye turned a key upon.”

“Give me none of your insolence,” said the jailer. “You have no

authority beyond my door. Your brutal treatment to prisoners has caused

me an immense deal of trouble-more than my paltry pay would induce me

to stay for. Suppose you were indicted for these outrages? What would be

the result?” asked the jailer.

“Sure it's meself could answer for the sheriff, without yer bothering

yerself. I'd not work for yer, but for him; and he's yer master anyhow,

and knows all about it. Give me the receipt, and that's all I'd ax yer.

When a nigger don't mind me, I just makes him feel the delight of a

hickory stick.”

“Yes, if you had the shame of a man in you, you'd not make a beast of

yourself with liquor, and treat these poor stewards as if they were

dogs,” said the jailer.

“Indeed, ye might learn a thing or two if ye was a politician like

meself, and belonged to the secession party. An' if his honor the

sheriff-for he's a dacent man-knew ye'd be preachin' in that shape, ye

wouldn't keep the jail f'nent the morning. Be letting me out, and make

much of the nigger; ye have him there.”

The jailer unlocked the door and allowed him to pass out, with a

pertinent rebuke. This was but a trifling affair in Dunn's ear, for he

knew his master's feelings too well, and was backed by him in his most

intolerable proceedings. Returning to the office, he looked at the

commitment, and then again at Manuel. “This is a 'contrary to law' case,

I see, Mr. Manuel; you are a likely fellow too, to come within that,”

said he.

“Yes. If I understand him right, he's a shipwrecked sailor, belonging

to a foreign vessel that was driven in here in distress,” said the

man. “It's a hard law that imprisons a colored seaman who comes here

voluntarily; but it seems beyond all manner of precedent to imprison

a shipwrecked man like this, especially when he seems so respectable.

There are no circumstances to warrant the enforcement of such a law.”

Thus saying, he left the jail.

Be it said of the jailer, to his honor, so far as personal kindness

went, he did his utmost--brought him water to wash himself, and gave

him some clean clothes. After which, he was registered upon the criminal

calendar as follows:--

“March 24, 1852.--Manuel Peirire.--[Committed by] Sheriff--Sheriff.

Crime--Contrary to law.”

Now the jailer had done his duty, so far as his feelings were concerned;

but, such were the stern requirements of the law, and his functions

so restricted by Mr. Grimshaw, that he dare not make distinctions. He

called Daley, one of the criminal assistants, and ordered him to show

the prisoner his room.

“Here, my boy, take yer blanket,” said Daley; and throwing him a coarse,

filthy-looking blanket, told him to roll it up and follow him. “It's on

the second floor we'll put ye, among the stewards; there's a nice lot

on 'em to keep yer company, and ye'll have a jolly time, my boy.” Manuel

followed through the second iron door until he came to a large door

secured with heavy bolts and bars, which Daley began to withdraw and

unlock. “Don't be takin' it amiss; it's a right good crib, savin' the'

bed, an' it's that's the worst of it. Bad luck to old Grimshaw, an'

himself thinks everybody's bones be's as tuf as his own,” said Daley,

and threw open the heavy doors, sending forth those ominous prison

sounds. “All here? Ah! yer a pretty set of lambs, as the British consul

calls yees. Have ye ever a drop to spare?” At this, three or four

respectable-looking black men came to the door and greeted Manuel.

“Come, talk her out, for th' auld man'll be on the scent.” At this, one

of the confined stewards, a tall, good-looking mulatto man, ran his hand

into a large opening in the wall, and drew forth a little soda-bottle

filled with Monongahela whisky. Without giving reasonable time for

politeness, Daley seized the bottle, and putting it to his mouth, gauged

about half its contents into his homony dept, smacked his lips,

wiped his mouth with his cuff, and, passing the balance back, shut and

rebolted the door, after saying, “Good luck till yees, an' I wish yees

a merry time.” The reader may imagine what provision the State or the

sheriff had made for the comfort of these poor men, one of whom was

imprisoned because it was “contrary to law” to be driven into the port

of Charleston in distress, and the rest, peaceable, unoffending citizens

belonging to distant States and countries, and guilty of no crime, when

we describe the room and regimen to which they were subjected. The room

was about twenty-six feet long and ten feet wide. The brick walls were

plastered and colored with some kind of blue wash, which, however, was

so nearly obliterated with dirt and the damp of a southern climate, as

to leave but little to show what its original color was. The walls were

covered with the condensed moisture of the atmosphere, spiders hung

their festooned network overhead, and cockroaches and ants, those

domesticated pests of South Carolina, were running about the floor in

swarms, and holding all legal rights to rations in superlative contempt.

Two small apertures in the wall, about fourteen inches square, and

double-barred with heavy flat iron, served to admit light and air. The

reader may thus judge of its gloomy appearance, and what a miserable

unhealthy cell it must have been in which to place men just arrived from

sea. There was not the first vestige of furniture in the room, not;

even a bench to sit upon, for the State, with its gracious hospitality,

forgot that men in jail ever sit down; but it was in keeping with all

other things that the State left to the control of its officials.

“Am I to be punished in this miserable place? Why, I cannot see where

I'm going; and have I nothing to lay down upon but the floor, and that

creeping with live creatures?” inquired Manuel of those who were already

inured to the hardship.

“Nothing! nothing! Bring your mind to realize the worst, and forget the

cruelty while you are suffering it; they let us out a part of the day.

We are locked up to-day because one of the assistants stole my friend's

liquor, and he dared to accuse him of the theft, because he was a white

man,” said a tall, fine-looking mulatto man by the name of James Redman,

who was steward on board a Thomastown (Maine) ship, and declared that he

had visited Charleston on a former occasion, and by paying five dollars

to one of the officers, remained on board of the ship unmolested.

“And how long shall I have to suffer in this manner?” inquired Manuel.

“Can I not have my own bed and clothing?”

“Oh, yes,” said Redman; “you can have them, but if you bring them here,

they'll not be worth anything when you leave; and the prisoners upon

this floor are so starved and destitute, that necessity forces them

to steal whatever comes in their way; and the assistants are as much

implicated as the prisoners. You'll fare hard; but just do as we do in

a calm, wait for the wind to blow, and pray for the best. If you say any

thing, or grumble about it, the sheriff will order you locked, up on the

third story, and that's worse than death itself. The first thing you do,

make preparations for something to eat. We pay for it here, but don't

get it; and you'd starve afore you'd eat what they give them poor white

prisoners. They suffer worse than we do, only they have cleaner rooms.”

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

His manners and appearance at once enlisted the respect of those

present, and they immediately set to work, with all the means at hand,

to make him comfortable. Joseph Jociquei, a young man who had been taken

from a vessel just arrived from Rio, and was more fortunate than the

rest, in having a mattrass, seeing Manuel's weak condition, immediately

removed it from its place, and spreading it upon the floor, invited him

to lay down. The invitation was as acceptable as it was kind on the

part of Jociquei, and the poor fellow laid his weary limbs upon it, and

almost simultaneously fell into a profound sleep. Manuel continued to

sleep. His face and head were scarred in several places; which were

dressed and covered with pieces of plaster that the jailer had supplied.

His companions, for such we shall call those who were confined with him,

sat around him, discussing the circumstances that brought him there, and

the manner in which they could best relieve his suffering. “It's just

as I was sarved,” said Redman. “And I'll bet that red-headed constable,

Dunn, brought him up: and abused him in all them Dutch shops. I didn't

know the law, and he made me give him three dollars not to put the

handcuffs upon me, and then I had to treat him in every grog-shop we

came to. Yes, and the last shop we were in, he throw'd liquor in me

face, cursed the Dutchman that kept the shop, kick'd me, and tried every

way in the world to raise a fuss. If I hadn't know'd the law here too

well, I'd whipt him sure. I have suffered the want of that three dollars

since I bin here. 'Twould sarved me for coffee. We have neither coffee

nor bread to-night, for we gave our allowance of bad bread to the white

prisoners, but we must do something to make the poor fellow comfortable.

I know the constable has kept him all day coming up, and he'll be hungry

as soon as he awakes.”

“Won't he receive his allowance to-day like another prisoner?” inquired

Copeland, a thick-set, well made, dark-skinned negro steward, who had

formerly conducted a barber shop in Fleet street, Boston, but was now

attached to the schooner Oscar Jones, Kellogg, master.

“Oh! no, sir,” said Redman, “that's against the rules of the jail-every

thing is done by rule here, even to paying for what we don't get, and

starving the prisoners. A man that don't come in before eleven o'clock

gets no ration until the next morning. I know, because I had a fuss with

the jailer about it, the first day I was brought in; but he gin me a

loaf out of his own house. The old sheriff never allows any thing done

outside the rules, for he's tighter than a mantrap. 'T a'n't what ye

suffers in this cell, but it's what ye don't get to eat; and if that

poor feller a'n't got money, he'll wish himself alongside the caboose

again 'fore he gets out.” The poor fellows were driven to the extreme of

providing sustenance to sustain life. They mustered their little means

together, and by giving a sum to the sheriff's black boy, (a man more

intelligent, gentlemanly, and generous-hearted than his master,) had a

measure of coffee, sugar, and bread brought in. Necessity was the mother

of invention with them, for they had procured a barrel for twenty-five

cents, and made it supply the place of a table. With a few chips that

were brought to them by a kind-hearted colored woman that did their

washing, and bestowed many little acts of kindness, they made a fire,

endured the annoyance of a dense smoke from the old fire-place, and

prepared their little supper. As soon as it was upon the table, they

awoke Manuel, and invited him to join in their humble fare. The poor

fellow arose, and looking around the gloomy, cavern-like place, heaved a

deep sigh. “It's hard to be brought to this for nothing!” said he; “and

my bones are so sore that I can scarcely move. I must see the Captain

and consul.”

“That won't do any good; you might as well keep quiet and drink your

coffee. A prisoner that says the least in this jail is best off,”

returned Redman.

Manuel took his bowl of coffee and a piece of bread, eating it with a

good appetite, and asking what time they got breakfast. “It's the first

time I was abused in a foreign country. I'm Portuguese, but a citizen of

Great Britain, and got my protection.-When it won't save me, I'll never

come to South Carolina again, nor sail where a flag won't protect me.

When I go among Patagonians, I know what they do; but when I sail

to United States or be cast away on them, I don't know what they do,

because I expect good people.” * * *

“Never mind, my good fellow,” said Redman; “cheer up, take it as a good

sailor would a storm, and in the morning you'll get a small loaf of sour

bread and a bucket of water for breakfast, if you go to the pump for it.

Be careful to moderate your appetite when you breakfast according to the

State's rules; for you must save enough to last you during the day, and

if you can keep “banyan day,” as the Bluenose calls it, you're just the

man for this institution, and no mistake. Come, I see you're hungry;

drink another bowl of coffee, and eat plenty of bread; then you'll be

all right for another good sleep.”

“Yes, but I don't expect to be in here long. But tell me, do we get

nothing more than a loaf? didn't the jail give us this supper?” he

inquired with surprise.

“Supper, indeed!--it's against the rules for prisoners to have coffee;

that's our private fixings; but you'll get a pound of bloody neck-bone,

they call beef, in the morning. I have twice thrown mine to the dog,

but he doesn't seem to thank me for it; so I told the cook he needn't

trouble his steelyards for me again.”

Redman's conversation was interrupted by a noise that seemed to be a

ring of the prison bell, and an anxious expression which Manuel gave

utterance to, indicated that he expected somebody would come to see him.

He was not disappointed, for a few minutes after, the bolts were heard

to withdraw and the heavy door swung back. There, true to his charge,

was little Tommy, in his nicest blue rig, tipped off a la man-o'-war

touch, with his palmetto-braid hat,--a long black ribbon displayed over

the rim,--his hair combed so slick, and his little round face and red

cheeks so plump and full of the sailor-boy pertness, with his blue,

braided shirt-collar laid over his jacket, and set off around the neck,

with a black India handkerchief, secured at the throat with the joint

of a shark's backbone. He looked the very picture and pattern of a

Simon-Pure salt. He had wended his way through strange streets and

lanes, with a big haversack under his arm, which Daley had relieved

him of at the door, and brought into the room under his arm. As soon as

Manuel caught a glimpse of him, he rose and clasped the little fellow

in his arms with a fond embrace. No greeting could be more affecting.

Manuel exulted at seeing his little companion; but Tommy looked grieved,

and asked, “But what has scarred your face so, Manuel? You didn't look

that way when you left the brig. We have had a site o' folks down to see

us to-day.”

“Oh, that's nothing!--just a little fall I got; don't tell the Captain:

it'll all be well to-morrow.”

“Here, Jack, take your knapsack; did yer bring ever a drop o' liquor for

the steward?” said Daley, addressing himself to Tommy, and putting the

package upon the floor.

“Yes, Manuel!” said Tommy, “the Captain sent you some nice bread and

ham, some oranges and raisins, and a bottle of nice claret,--for he was

told by the consul that they didn't give 'em nothing to eat at the

jail. And I had a tug with 'em, I tell you. I got lost once, and got a

good-natured black boy to pilot me for a Victoria threepence,--but he

did not like to carry the bundle to the jail, for fear of his master.

Captain 'll be up first thing in the morning, if he can get away from

business,” said the little tar, opening the haversack and pulling out

its contents to tempt the hungry appetites of those around him.

Daley very coolly took the bottle of claret by the neck, and holding it

between himself and the light, took a lunar squint at it, as if doubting

its contents; and then, putting it down, exclaimed, “Ah! the divil a red

I'd give you for your claret. Sure, why didn't ye bring a token of

good old hardware?” “Hardware! what is hardware?” inquired Manuel. “Ah!

botheration to the bunch of yees--a drap of old whiskey, that 'd make

the delight cum f'nent. Have ye ne'er a drap among the whole o' yees?”

Receiving an answer in the negative, he turned about with a Kilkenny,

“It don't signify,” and toddled for the door, which he left open, to

await Tommy's return. Redman knew Daley's propensity too well, and

having ocular proof that he had wet t'other eye until it required

more than ordinary effort to make either one stay open, he declined

recognising his very significant hint.

As soon as Daley withdrew, Manuel invited his companions to partake of

the Captain's present, which they did with general satisfaction.

CHAPTER XV. THE LAW'S INTRICACY.