WHILE the scenes we have described in the foregoing chapter were being

performed, several very interesting ones were going through the course

of performance at the consul's office and other places, which we must

describe. The British Government, in its instructions to Mr. Mathew,

impressed upon him the necessity of being very cautious lest he should

in any manner prejudice the interests of the local institutions within

his consular jurisdiction; to make no requests that were incompatible

with the local laws; but to pursue a judicious course in bringing the

matter of Her Majesty's subjects properly to the consideration of

the legal authorities, and to point to the true grievance; and as it

involved a question of right affecting the interests and liberties of

her citizens, to ask the exercise of that judicial power from which it

had a right to expect justice. The main object was to test the question

whether this peculiar construction given to that local law which

prohibits free colored men from coming within the limits of the State,

was legal in its application to those who come into its ports connected

with the shipping interests, pursuing an honest vocation, and intending

to leave whenever their ship was ready. The consul was censured by the

press in several of the slaveholding States, because he dared to bring

the matter before the local legislature. We are bound to say that Consul

Mathew, knowing the predominant prejudices of the Carolinians, acted

wisely in so doing. First, he knew the tenacious value they put upon

courtesy; secondly, the point at issue between South Carolina and the

Federal Government, (and, as a learned friend in Georgia once said,

“Whether South Carolina belonged to the United States, or the United

States to South Carolina;”) and thirdly, the right of State sovereignty,

which South Carolina held to be of the first importance. To disregard

the first, would have been considered an insult to the feelings of

her people; and if the question had first been mooted with the Federal

Government, the ire of South Carolinians would have been fired; the

slur in placing her in a secondary position would have sounded the

war-trumpet of Abolition encroachments, while the latter would have been

considered a breach of confidence, and an unwarrantable disregard of her

assertion of State rights. The Executive transmitted the documents to

the Assembly, that body referred them to special committees, and the

Messrs. Mazyck and McCready, reported as everybody in South Carolina

expected, virtually giving the British consul a very significant

invitation to keep his petitions in his pocket for the future, and his

“black lambs” out of the State, or it might disturb their domesticated

ideas. Thus was the right clearly reserved to themselves, and the

question settled, so far as the State Legislature was concerned. The

next course for Mr. Mathew was to appeal to the Judiciary, and should

redress be denied, make it the medium of bringing the matter, before the

Federal courts.

We cannot forbear to say, that the strenuous opposition waged against

this appeal of common humanity arose from political influence, supported

by a set of ultra partisans, whose theoretical restrictions, assisted

by the voice of the press, catered to the war-spirit of the

abstractionists.

The British consul, as the representative of his government, knowing the

personal suffering to which the subjects of his country were subjected

by the wretched state of the Charleston prison, and its management,

sought to remove no restriction that might be necessary for protecting

their dangerous institutions, but to relieve that suffering. He had

pointed the authorities to the wretched state of the prison, and the

inhuman regimen which existed within it; but, whether through that

superlative carelessness which has become so materialized in the spirit

of society--that callousness to misfortune so strongly manifested by the

rich toward the industrious poor and the slaves-or, a contempt for

his opinions, because he had followed out the instructions of his

government, things went on in the same neglected manner and no attention

was paid to them.

Now, we dare assert that a large, portion of the excitement which the

question has caused has arisen from personal suffering, consequent upon

that wretched state of jail provisions which exists in South Carolina,

and which, to say the least, is degrading to the spirit and character of

a proud people. If a plea could be made, for excuse, upon the shattered

finances of the State, we might tolerate something of the abuse. But

this is not the case; and when its privileges become reposed in men who

make suffering the means to serve their own interests, its existence

becomes an outrage.

A stronger evidence of the cause of these remonstrances on the part

of the British Government, is shown by the manner in which it has been

submitted to in Georgia. The British consul of the port of Savannah, a

gentleman whose intelligence and humane feelings are no less remarkable

than Mr. Mathew's, has never had occasion to call the attention of

the Executive of Georgia to the abuse of power consequent upon the

imprisonment of colored seamen belonging to the ships of Great Britain

in that port. The seaman was imprisoned, consequently deprived of his

liberty; but there was no suffering attendant beyond the loss of liberty

during the stay of the vessel; for the imprisonment itself was a nominal

thing; the imprisoned was well cared for; he had good, comfortable

apartments, cleanly and well ordered, away from the criminals, and

plenty of good, wholesome food to eat. There was even a satisfaction in

this, for the man got what he paid for, and was treated as if he were

really a human being. Thus, with the exception of the restriction on the

man's liberty, and that evil, which those interested in commerce would

reflect upon as a tax upon the marine interests of the port to support a

municipal police, because it imposes a tax and burdensome annoyance upon

owners for that which they have no interest in and can derive no benefit

from, the observance of the law had more penalty in mental anxiety than

bodily suffering. We have sometimes been at a loss to account for the

restriction, even as it existed in Georgia, and especially when

we consider the character of those controlling and developing the

enterprising commercial affairs of Savannah.

But we must return to South Carolina. If we view this law as a police

regulation, it only gives us broader latitude. If a community has that

within itself which is dangerous to its well-being, it becomes pertinent

to inquire whether there is not an imperfect state of society existing,

and whether this policy is not injurious to the well-being of the State.

The evil, though it be a mortifying fact, we are bound to say, arises

from a strange notion of caste and color, which measures sympathy

according to complexion. There is no proof that can possibly be adduced,

showing that colored seamen have made any infections among the slaves,

or sought to increase the dangers of her peculiar institution.

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

LAWS.

THE consul's office opened at nine o'clock,--the Captain, with his

register-case and shipping papers under his arm, presented himself to

Mr. Mathew, handed him his papers, and reported his condition. That

gentleman immediately set about rendering every facility to relieve his

immediate wants and further his business. The consul was a man of plain,

unassuming manners, frank in his expressions, and strongly imbued with

a sense of his rights, and the faith of his Government,--willing to take

an active part in obtaining justice, and, a deadly opponent to wrong,

regardless of the active hostility that surrounded him. After relating

the incidents of his voyage, and the circumstances connected with

Manuel's being dragged to prison,--“Can it be possible that the law is

to be carried to such an extreme?” said he, giving vent to his feelings.

“Your people seem to have a strange manner of exhibiting their

hospitality,” said the Captain, in reply.

“That is true; but it will not do to appeal to the officials.” Thus

saying, the consul prepared the certificate, and putting on his hat,

repaired to the jail. Here he questioned Manuel upon the circumstances

of his arrest, his birthplace, and several other things. “I am not sure

that I can get you out, Manuel, but I will do my best; the circumstances

of your being driven in here in distress will warrant some consideration

in your case; yet the feeling is not favorable, and we cannot expect

much.”

From thence he proceeded to the office of Mr. Grimshaw, where he met

that functionary, seated in all the dignity of his office.

“Good morning, Mr. Consul. Another of your darkies in my place, this

morning,” said Mr. Grimshaw.

“Yes; it is upon that business I have called to see you. I think you

could not have considered the condition of this man, nor his rights,

or you would not have imprisoned him. Is there no way by which I can

relieve him?” inquired the consul, expecting little at his hands, but

venturing the effort.

“Sir! I never do any thing inconsistent with my office. The law gives

me power in these cases, and I exercise it according to my judgment. It

makes no exceptions for shipwrecks, and I feel that you have no right to

question me in the premises. It's contrary to law to bring niggers here;

and if you can show that he is a white man, there's the law; but you

must await its process.”

“But do you not make exceptions?” inquired the consul. “I do not wish

to seek his relief by process of law; that would increase expense and

delay. I have made the request as a favor; if you cannot consider it in

that light, I can only say my expectations are disappointed. But how is

it that the man was abused by your officers before he was committed?”

“Those are things I've nothing to do with; they are between the officers

and your niggers. If they are stubborn, the officers must use force,

and we have a right to iron the whole of them. Your niggers give more

trouble than our own, and are a set of unruly fellows. We give 'em

advantages which they don't deserve, in allowing them the yard at

certain hours of the day. You Englishmen are never satisfied with any

thing we do,” returned Mr. Grimshaw, with indifference, appearing to

satisfy himself that the law gave him the right to do what he pleased in

the premises. There seemed but one idea in his head, so far as niggers

were concerned, nor could any mode of reasoning arouse him: to a

consideration of any extenuating circumstances. A nigger was a nigger

with him, whether white or black-a creature for hog, homony, and

servitude.

“I expected little and got nothing. I might have anticipated it, knowing

the fees you make by imprisonment. I shall seek relief for the man

through a higher tribunal, and I shall seek redress for the repeated

abuses inflicted upon these men by your officers,” said the consul,

turning to the door.

“You can do that, sir,” said Mr. Grimshaw; “but you must remember that

it will require white evidence to substantiate the charge. We don't take

the testimony of your niggers.”

Just as the consul left the office, he met Colonel S--entering. The

colonel always manifested a readiness to relieve the many cases of

oppression and persecution arising from bad laws and abused official

duty. He had called upon Mr. Grimshaw on the morning of the arrest, and

received from him an assurance that the case would be considered, the

most favorable construction given to it, and every thing done for

the man that was in his power. Notwithstanding this to show how far

confidence could be put in such assurances, we have only to inform the

reader that he had despatched the officers an hour previously.

The colonel knew his man, and felt no hesitation at speaking his mind.

Stepping up to him, “Mr. Grimshaw,” said he, “how do you reconcile

your statement and assurances to me this morning with your subsequent

conduct?”

“That's my business. I act for the State, and not for you. Are you

counsel for these niggers, that you are so anxious to set them at

liberty among our slaves? You seem to have more interest in it than that

interfering consul. Just let these Yankee niggers and British niggers

out to-night, and we'd have another insurrection before morning; it's

better to prevent than cure,” said Grimshaw.

“The only insurrection would have been in your heart, for the loss of

fees. If you did not intend what you said, why did you deceive me with

such statements? I know the feelings of our people, as well as I do

yours for caging people within that jail. Upon that, I intimated to the

Captain what I thought would be the probable result, and this morning I

proceeded to his vessel to reassure him, upon your statement. Imagine my

mortification when he informed me that his steward had been dragged

off to jail early in the morning, and that those two ruffians whom you

disgrace the community with, behaved in the most outrageous manner. It

is in your power to relieve this man, and I ask it as a favor, and on

behalf of what I know to be the feelings of the citizens of Charleston.”

“Your request, colonel,” said Mr. Grimshaw, with a little more

complacency, “is too much in the shape of a demand. There's no

discretion left me by the State, and if you have a power superior to

that, you better pay the expenses of the nigger, and take the management

into your own hands. I never allow this trifling philanthropy about

niggers to disturb me. I could never follow out the laws of the State

and practise it; and you better not burden yourself with it, or your

successors may suffer for adequate means to support themselves. Now,

sir, take my advice. It's contrary to law for them niggers to come

here; you know our laws cannot be violated. South Carolina has a great

interest at stake in maintaining the reputation of her laws. Don't

excite the nigger's anxiety, and he'll be better off in jail than he

would running about among the wenches. He won't have luxuries, but we'll

make him comfortable, and he must suit his habits to our way of living.

We must not set a bad example before our own niggers; the whiter they

are the worse they are. They struggle for their existence now, and think

they're above observing our nigger laws. We want to get rid of them, and

you know it,” returned Grimshaw.

“Yes; I know it too well, for I have had too many cases to protect them

from being 'run off' and sold in the New Orleans market. But when you

speak of white niggers, I suppose you mean our brightest; I dispute your

assertion, and point you to my proof in the many men of wealth among

them now pursuing their occupations in our city. Can you set an example

more praiseworthy? And notwithstanding they are imposed upon by taxes,

and many of our whites take the advantage of law to withhold the payment

of debts contracted with them, they make no complaint. They are subject

to the same law that restricts the blackest slave. Where is the white

man that would not have yielded under such inequality? No! Mr. Grimshaw,

I am as true a Southerner-born and bred-as you are; but I have the

interests of these men at heart, because I know they are with us, and

their interests and feelings are identical with our own. They are Native

Americans by birth and blood, and we have no right to dispossess them

by law of what we have given them by blood. We destroy their feelings by

despoiling them of their rights, and by it we weaken our own cause. Give

them the same rights and privileges that we extend to that miserable

class of foreigners who are spreading pestilence and death over our

social institutions, and we would have nothing to fear from them, but

rather find them our strongest protectors. I want to see a law taking

from that class of men the power to lord it over and abuse them.”

A friend, who has resided several years in Charleston, strong in his

feelings of Southern rights, and whose keen observation could not fail

to detect the working of different phases of the slave institution,

informed us that he had conversed with a great many very intelligent

and enterprising men belonging to that large class of “bright” men in

Charleston, and that which appeared to pain them most was the manner

they were treated by foreigners of the lowest class; that rights which

they had inherited by birth and blood were taken away from them; that,

being subjected to the same law which governed the most abject slave,

every construction of it went to degrade them, while it gave supreme

power to the most degraded white to impose upon them, and exercise his

vindictive feelings toward them; that no consideration being given to

circumstances, the least deviation from the police regulations made to

govern negroes, was taken advantage of by the petty guardmen, who either

extorted a fee to release them, or dragged them to the police-office,

where their oath was nothing, even if supported by testimony of their

own color; but the guardman's word was taken as positive proof. Thus the

laws of South Carolina forced them to be what their feelings revolted

at. And I want to see another making it a penal offence for those men

holding slaves for breeding purposes. Another, which humanity calls

for louder than any other, is one to regulate their food, punish

these grievous cases of starvation, and make the offender suffer for

withholding proper rations.

“Well-pretty well!” said Grimshaw, snapping his fingers very

significantly. “You seem to enjoy the independence of your own opinion,

colonel. Just prove this nigger's a white, and I'll give you a release

for him, after paying the fees. You better move to Massachusetts, and

preach that doctrine to William Lloyd Garrison and Abby Kelly.”

“Give me none of your impudence, or your low insults. You may protect

yourself from personal danger by your own consciousness that you are

beneath the laws of honor; but that will not save you from what you

deserve, if you repeat your language. Our moderation is our protection,

while such unwise restrictions as you would enforce, fan the flame of

danger to our own households,” said the colonel, evidently yielding

to his impulses; while Mr. Grimshaw sat trembling, and began to make a

slender apology, saying that the language was forced upon him, because

the colonel had overstepped the bounds of propriety in his demands.

“I'm somewhat astonished at your demand, colonel, for you don't seem

to comprehend the law, and the imperative manner in which I'm bound

to carry it out. Shipowners should get white stewards, if they want to

avoid all this difficulty. I know the nature of the case, but we can't

be accountable for storms, shipwrecks, old vessels, and all these

things. I'll go and see the fellow to-morrow, and tell the jailer-he's

a pattern of kindness, and that's why I got him for jailer-to give him

good rations and keep his room clean,” said Grimshaw, getting up and

looking among some old books that lay on a dusty shelf. At length he

found the one, and drawing it forth, commenced brushing the dust from it

with a dust-brush, and turning his tobacco-quid. After brushing the

old book for a length of time, he gave it a scientific wipe with his

coat-sleeve, again sat down, and commenced turning over its pages.

“It's in here, somewhere,” said he, wetting his finger and thumb at

every turn.

“What's in there, pray? You don't think I've practised at the Charleston

bar all my life without knowing a law which has called up so many

questions?” inquired the colonel.

“Why, the act and the amendments. I believe this is the right one. I

a'n't practised so long, that I reckon I've lost the run of the appendix

and everything else,” adding another stream of tobacco-spit to the

puddle on the floor.

“That's better thought than said. Perhaps you'd better get a schoolboy

to keep his finger on it,” continued the colonel, laconically.

“Well, well; but I must find it and refresh your memory. Ah! here it is,

and it's just as binding on me as it can be. There's no mistake about

it-it's genuine South Carolina, perfectly aboveboard.” Thus saying,

he commenced reading to the colonel as if he was about to instruct

a schoolboy in his rudiments. “Here it is-a very pretty specimen of

enlightened legislation-born in the lap of freedom, cradled in a land of

universal rights, and enforced by the strong arm of South Carolina.”

“An Act for the better regulation and government of free negroes and

persons of color, and for other purposes,” &c. &c. &c., Mr. Grimshaw

read; but as the two first sections are really a disgrace to the

delegated powers of man, in their aim to oppress the man of color,

we prefer to pass to the third section, and follow Mr. Grimshaw as he

reads:--

“That if any vessel shall come into any port or harbor of this State,

(South Carolina,) from any other State or foreign port, having on board

any free negroes or persons of color, as cooks, stewards, or mariners,

or in any other employment on board said vessel, such free negroes or

persons of color shall be liable to be seized and confined in jail until

said vessel shall clear out and depart from this State; and that when

said vessel is ready to sail, the captain of said vessel shall be

bound to carry away the said free negro or person of color, and pay the

expenses of detention; and in case of his refusal or neglect to do so,

he shall be liable to be indicted, and, on conviction thereof, shall be

fined in a sum not less than one thousand dollars, and imprisoned not

less than two months; and such free negroes or persons of color shall

be deemed and taken as absolute slaves, and sold in conformity to the

provisions of the act passed on the twentieth day of December, one

thousand eight hundred and twenty aforesaid.'”

Mr. Grimshaw's coolness in the matter became so intolerable, that the

colonel could stand it no longer; so, getting up while Mr. Grimshaw was

reading the law, he left the office, perfectly satisfied that further

endeavors at that source would be fruitless.

After Mr. Grimshaw had concluded, he looked up, perfectly amazed to find

that he was enjoying the reading of the act to himself. “Had I not given

it all the consideration of my power, and seen the correctness of the

law, I should not have given so much importance to my opinion. But there

it is, all in that section of the Act, and they can't find no convention

in the world to control the Legislature of South Carolina. There's my

principles, and all the Englishmen and Abolitionists in Christendom

wouldn't change me. Now, I've the power, and let 'em get the nigger out

of my place, if they can,” said Grimshaw, shutting the book, kicking

a good-sized, peaceable-looking dog that lay under the table, and

deliberately taking his hat and walking into the street.

Here is an Act, bearing on its face the arrogant will of South Carolina,

setting aside all constitutional rights, and denying the validity of

stipulations made by the United States in her general commercial laws.

She asserts her right to disregard citizenship, to make criminals of

colored men, because they are colored, and to sell them for slaves to

pay the expenses which she had incurred to make them such. And what is

still worse, is, that the exercise of this misconceived and unjust law

is so unrelentingly enforced, and so abused by those who carry it out.

During this time the consul had been unremitting in his endeavors to

procure the man's release. The mayor had no power in the premises; the

attorney-general was not positive in regard to the extent of his power

in such a case, though he admitted the case to be an aggravated one; the

judges could only recognise him as a nigger, consequently must govern

their proceedings by legislative acts. Upon the whole, he found that

he was wasting his time, for while they all talked sympathy, they

acted tyranny. Cold, measured words about niggers, “contrary to law,”

constitutional rights, inviolable laws, State sovereignty and secession,

the necessary police regulations to protect a peculiar institution,

and their right to enforce them, everywhere greeted his ears. There was

about as much in it to relieve Manuel, as there would have been had a

little bird perched upon the prison-wall and warbled its song of love to

him while strongly secured in his cell-more tantalizing because he could

hear the notes, but not see the songster.

Notwithstanding the commendable energy of the consul, he had the

satisfaction of knowing that several very improbable reports touching

his course, and construing it into an interference with the institution

of slavery, had been widely circulated, and were creating a feeling

against him among a certain class of “fire-eating” secessionists. He was

too well aware of the source from which they originated to awaken any

fears, and instead of daunting his energy they only increased it, and

brought to his aid the valuable services of the Hon. James L. Petigru, a

gentleman of whom it is said, (notwithstanding his eminence at the

bar,) that had it not been for his purity of character, his opinions

in opposition to the State would have long since consigned him to a

traitor's exile. The truth was-and much against Mr. Petigru's popularity

in his own State-that he was a man of sound logic, practical judgment,

and legal discrimination. Thus endowed with the requisite qualities of

a good statesman, and pursuing a true course to create a conservative

influence in the State, he failed to become popular beyond his legal

sphere. Had he espoused that most popular of all doctrines in South

Carolina-nullification and secession-and carried abstraction to

distraction, James L. Petigru would have added another “Roman name” to

that which has already passed from South Carolina's field of action.

The consul did his duty, but effected nothing; and such was the

opposition manifested by the officials who were interested in the spoils

of law, and politicians who could not see any thing important beyond

secession, that there was no prospect of it. And, as the last resort,

he appealed to the Judiciary through the “habeas corpus,” the result of

which we shall show in a subsequent chapter.

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

THE consul had returned to his office rather discomfited at not being

able to relieve Manuel, yet satisfied that he had placed matters in

their proper light before the public. The Captain reported and left his

manifest at the custom-house, after entering his protest and making the

necessary arrangements for survey, &c. &c. And Colonel S--became so well

satisfied of the affectation of law protectors, and that his services

in behalf of humanity were like straws contending against a foaming

current, that, acknowledging his regrets to the Captain, he preferred to

make up in attention what he could not do for Manuel through the law.

Little George paid his respects to the Janson between ten and eleven

o'clock, duly dressed. “Mr. Mate, where's your skipper?” he inquired,

with an air of consequence that put an extra pucker on his little

twisting mouth.

“Gone to jail, or to see Doctor Jones, I expect, not giving ye an ill

answer,” replied the old mate, gruffly.

“Perhaps you don't know who I am, sir. Your answer's not polite. You

must remember, sir, you're in South Carolina, the sunny city of the

South,” said the little secessionist.

“I al'a's make my answer to suit myself. I study hard work and honesty,

but never was known to carry a grammar in my pocket. But, my taut

friend, I should know'd I was in South Carolina if you hadn't said a

word about it, for no other nation under the sky would a dragged a poor

cast-away sailor to prison because he had the misfortune to have a tawny

hide. It's a ten-to-one, my hearty, if you don't find the skipper in

jail, and all the rest of us, before we leave. I'm lookin' now to see

some body-grabber coming down with a pair of handcuffs,” continued the

mate.

“What! do you mean to insult me again, Mr. Mate? Explain yourself! I'm

not accustomed to this ironical talk!”

“Well, it's something like your laws. They dragged our steward off

to jail this morning, without judge or jury, and with about as much

ceremony as a Smithfield policeman would a pickpocket.”

“What! you don't say. Well, I was afraid of that. Our officers are

mighty quick, but I'd hoped differently. But, sir, give my compliments

to the Captain. Tell him I'll make the matter all right; my influence,

sir, and my father's--he is one of the first men in the city--tells

mightily here. I have promised my services to the Captain, and I'll see

him through. Just pledging my word to Grimshaw will be enough to satisfy

the judicial requisites of the law,” said George, switching his little

cane on his trowsers.

“My good fellow,” said the mate, “if you can get our steward out a

limbo, you'll be doing us all a good turn, and we'll remember you as

long as we pull a brace.”

“You may reckon on me, Mister Mate; and if I a'n't down before six

o'clock, my father will certainly take the matter in hand; and he and

Mazyck belong to the secession party, and control things just as they

please at Columbia.” So saying, George bid the old mate good morning,

and bent his course for the head of the wharf.

“There,” said the old mate, “it's just what I thought all along; I knew

my presentiment would come true. I'll wager a crown they treat Manuel

like a dog in that old prison, and don't get him out until he is

mildewed; or perhaps they'll sell him for a slave a'cos he's got curly

black hair and a yellow skin. Now I'm a hardy sailor, but I've sailed

around the world about three times, and know something of nature. Now ye

may note it as clear as the north star, prisons in slave countries a'n't

fit for dogs. They may tell about their fine, fat, slick, saucy niggers,

but a slave's a slave--his master's property, a piece of merchandise,

his chattel, or his football-thankful for what his master may please to

give him, and inured to suffer the want of what he withholds. Yes,

he must have his thinking stopped by law, and his back lashed at his

master's will, if he don't toe the mark in work. Men's habits and

associations form their feelings and character, and it's just so with

them fellers; they've become so accustomed to looking upon a nigger as

a mere tool of labor--lordin' it over him, starving him, and lashing

him-that they associate the exercise of the same feelings and actions

with every thing connected with labor, without paying any respect to a

poor white man's feelings,” continued the mate, addressing himself to

his second, as they sat upon the companion, waiting for the Captain to

come on board and give further orders.

Never were words spoken with more truth. The negro is reduced to the

lowest and worst restrictions, even by those who are considered wealthy

planters and good masters. We say nothing of those whose abuse of their

negroes by starvation and punishment forms the theme of complaint among

slaveholders themselves. His food is not only the coarsest that can, be

procured, but inadequate to support the system for the amount of labor

required. Recourse to other means becomes necessary. This is supplied by

giving the slave his task, which, so far as our observation extends, is

quite sufficient for any common, laborer's day's-work. This done, his

master is served; and as an act of kindness, (which Sambo is taught to

appreciate as such,) he is allowed to work on his own little cultivated

patch to raise a few things, which mass'r (in many cases) very

condescendingly sells in the market, and returns those little comforts,

which are so much appreciated by slaves on a plantation-tea, molasses,

coffee, and tobacco-and now and then a little wet of whiskey. This is

the allowance of a good man doing a good week's work, and getting two

pounds of bacon and a peck of corn as his compensation. But, in grateful

consideration, his good master allows him to work nights and Sundays to

maintain himself. In this way was “Bob's bale of cotton” raised, which

that anxious child of popular favor, the editor of the “Savannah Morning

News,” so struggled to herald to the world as something magnificent on

the part of the Southern slave-masters. At best, it was but a speck. If

the many extra hours of toil that poor Bob had spent, and the hours

of night that he had watched and nursed his plants, were taken into

account, there would be a dark picture connected with “Bob's bale of

cotton,” which the editor forgot to disclose.

Every form of labor becomes so associated with servitude, that we may

excuse the Southerner for those feelings which condemn those devoted

to mechanical pursuits as beneath his caste and dignity. Arrogance and

idleness foster extravagance, while his pride induces him to keep up a

style of life which his means are inadequate to support. This induces

him to subsist his slaves on the coarsest fare, and becoming hampered,

embarrassed, and fretted in his fast-decaying circumstances, his slaves,

one by one, suffer the penalty of his extravagance, and finally he

himself is reduced to such a condition that he is unable to do justice

to himself or his children any longer; his slaves are dragged from him,

sold to the terrors of a distant sugar-plantation, and he turned out of

doors a miserable man.

We see this result every day in South Carolina; we hear the comments

in the broadways and public places, while the attorney and bailiff's

offices and notices tell the sad tale of poverty's wasting struggle.

George, in passing from the wharf into the bay, met the Captain, who was

shaping his course for the brig. He immediately ran up to him, and shook

his hands with an appearance of friendship. “Captain, I'm right sorry

to hear about your nigger. I was not prepared for such a decision on the

part of Mr. Grimshaw, but I'm determined to have him out,” said he.

“Well!” said the Captain, “I'm sorry to say, I find things very

different from what I anticipated. My steward is imprisoned, for

nothing, except that he is a Portuguese, and everybody insists that he's

a nigger. Everybody talks very fine, yet nobody can do any thing; and

every thing is left to the will of one man.”

“Why, Captain, we've the best system in the world for doing business;

you'd appreciate it after you understood it! Just come with me, and let

me introduce you to my father. If he don't put you right, I'll stand

convicted,” said little George.

Accepting the invitation, they walked back to the “old man's”

counting-room. George had given the Captain such an extended account of

his father's business and estates, that the latter had made up his

mind to be introduced to an “India Palace' counting-room. Judge of

his surprise, then, when George led the way into an old, dirty-looking

counting-room, very small and dingy, containing two dilapidated high

desks, standing against the wall. They were made of pitch pine, painted

and grained, but so scarred and whittled as to have the appearance

of long use and abuse. In one corner was an old-fashioned low desk,

provided with an ink-stand, sundry pieces of blotting-paper, the

pigeon-holes filled with loose invoices, letters, and bills of lading,

very promiscuously huddled together; while hanging suspended on a

large nail, driven in the side, and exposed to view, was an enormous

dust-brush. A venerable-looking subject of some foreign country stood

writing at one desk, a little boy at the other, and George's veritable

“old man” at the low desk. Here and there around the floor were baskets

and papers containing samples of sea-island and upland cotton. George

introduced the Captain to his father with the suavity of a courtier. He

was a grave-looking man, well dressed, and spoke in a tone that at once

enlisted respect. Unlike George, he was a tall, well-formed man, with

bland, yet marked features, and very gray hair. He received the Captain

in a cold, yet dignified manner-inquired about his voyage, and who

he had consigned to, and what steps he had taken to proceed with

his business,--all of which the Captain answered according to the

circumstances.

“What! then you have consigned already, have you?” said little George,

with surprise.

“Oh yes,” returned the Captain, “I have left my business in the hands

of the consul, and shall follow his directions. It's according to my

sailing orders. But there's so much difficulty, I shouldn't wonder if I

had to leave the port, yet!”

“Not so, Captain; I'll take care of that!” said George, giving his

father a statement of the Captain's trouble about Manuel's imprisonment,

and begging that he would bestow his influence in behalf of his

friend the Captain. Although George coupled his request with a seeming

sincerity, it was evident that he felt somewhat disappointed at the

consignment. The old gentleman looked very wise upon the subject, lifted

his gold-framed spectacles upon his forehead, gratified his olfactory

nerves with a pinch of snuff, and then said in a cold, measured tone,

“Well, if he's a nigger, I see no alternative,--the circumstances may

give a coloring of severity to the law; but my opinion has always been,

that the construction of the law was right; and the act being

founded upon necessity, I see no reason why we should meddle with its

prerogative. I think the interference of the consul unwarrantable, and

pressed upon mere technical grounds. These stories about the bad state

of our jail, and the sufferings of criminals confined in it, arise, I

must think, from the reports of bad prisoners. I have never been in it.

Our people are opposed to vice, and seldom visit such a place; but the

sheriff tells me it is comfortable enough for anybody. If this be so,

and I have no reason to doubt his word, we can exercise our sympathy and

kindness for his shipwrecked circumstances, and make him as comfortable

there as we could anywhere else. There are many different opinions, I

admit, touching the effect of this law; but I'm among those who support

stringent measures for better protection. His color can form no excuse,

Captain, so long as there is symptoms of the negro about him. We

might open a wide field for metaphysical investigation, if we admitted

exceptions upon grades of complexion; for many of our own slaves are

as white ar the brightest woman. Consequently, when we shut the gates

entirely, we save ourselves boundless perplexity. Nor would it be safe

to grant an issue upon the score of intelligence, for experience has

taught us that the most intelligent 'bright fellows' are the worst

scamps in creating discontent among the slaves. I only speak of these

things, Captain, in a general sense. Your man may be very good, noble,

generous, and intelligent; and, more than all, not inclined to meddle

with our peculiar institution,--but it would be a false principle

to make him an exception, setting an example that would be entirely

incompatible with our greatest interests. So far as my word will affect

the sheriff, and enlist his better feelings in making him comfortable, I

will use it,” said the 'old man,' again adjusting his specs.

Little George seemed dumbfounded with mortification, and the Captain

felt as though he would give a guinea to be on board his brig. It was no

use for him to enter into the extenuating circumstance of his voyage, or

the character of the man, Manuel. The same cold opinions about the

law, and the faith and importance of South Carolina and her peculiar

institutions, met his ears wherever he went. The Captain arose, took

his hat, and bidding the old gentleman good morning, again left for his

brig.

“Don't be worried about it-I'll do what I can for you,” said the old

man, as the Captain was leaving. George followed him into the street,

and made a great many apologies for his father's opinions and seeming

indifference, promising to do himself what his father did not seem

inclined to undertake. The Captain saw no more of him during his stay in

Charleston, and if his influence was exerted in Manuel's behalf, he did

not feel its benefits.

Business had so occupied the Captain's attention during the day, that

he had no time to visit Manuel at the jail; and when he returned to the

vessel, a message awaited him from the British consul. One of the seamen

had been detailed to fill Manuel's place, who, with his dinner all

prepared, reminded the Captain that it was awaiting him. He sat down,

took dinner, and left to answer the consul's call. Arriving at the

office, he found the consul had left for his hotel, and would not return

until four o'clock. As he passed the post-office, a knot of men stood

in front of it, apparantly in anxious discussion. Feeling that their

conversation might be interesting to him, or have some connection with

his case, he walked slowly back, and as he approached them, observed

that the conversation had become more excited. The principals were Mr.

Grimshaw, and a factor on the bay, deeply interested in shipping.

“A man acting in your capacity,” said the factor, “should never make use

of such expressions-never give encouragement to mob law. It's not only

disgraceful to any city, but ruinous to its interests. Officials never

should set or encourage the example. Want of order is already in the

ascendant, and if the populace is to be led on to riot by the officials,

what check have we? God save us from the direful effects!”

“Well, perhaps I went too far,” said Mr. Grimshaw, “for I think as much

of the name of our fair city as you do. But we ought to teach him that

he can't pursue this open, bold, and daring course, endangering our

institutions, because he's consul for Great Britain. I would, at all

events, treat him as we did the Yankee HOAR from Massachusetts, and let

the invitation be given outside of official character, to save the name;

then, if he did not move off, I'd go for serving him as they did the

Spanish consul, in New Orleans. These English niggers and Yankee niggers

are fast destroying the peace of Charleston.”

“You would, would you?” said another. “Then you would incite the fury

of an ungovernable mob to endanger the man's life for carrying out the

instructions of his government.”

“That don't begin to be all that he does, for he's meddling with every

thing, and continually making remarks about our society,” said Grimshaw,

evidently intending to create ill feeling against the consul, and to

make the matter as bad as possible.

“Now, Mr. Grimshaw,” said the factor, “you know your jail is not fit to

put any kind of human beings into, much less respectable men. It's

an old Revolutionary concern, tumbling down with decay, swarming with

insects and vermin; the rooms are damp and unhealthy, and without means

to ventilate them; the mildew and horrible stench is enough to strike

disease into the strongest constitution; and you aggravate men's

appetites with food that's both insufficient and unwholesome, I know,

because I visited a friend who was put in there on 'mesne process.'”

“There is little confidence to be placed in the stories of prisoners;

they all think they must be treated like princes, instead of considering

that they are put there for cause, and that a jail was intended for

punishment,” interrupted Grimshaw, anxious to change the subject of

conversation, and displaying an habitual coldness to misfortune which

never can see the gentleman in a prisoner.

“Yes, but you must not measure men by that standard. Circumstances which

bring them there are as different as their natures. I've known many

good, honest, and respectable, citizens, who once enjoyed affluence in

our community, put in there, month after month, and year after year,

suffering the persecution of creditors and the effects of bad laws. Now

these men would not all complain if there was no cause, and they all

loved you, as you state. But tell me, Mr. Grimshaw, would it not be even

safer for our institutions to make a restriction confining them to the

wharf, which could be easily done, and with but small expense to the

city? Niggers on the wharves could have no communication with them,

because each is occupied in his business, and ours are too closely

watched and driven during working hours. As soon as those hours end,

they are bound to leave, and the danger ends. Again, those niggers who

work on the wharves are generally good niggers, while, on the other

hand, bad niggers are put into jail; and during the hours these stewards

are allowed the privilege of the yard, they mix with them without

discrimination or restraint. Their feelings, naturally excited by

imprisonment, find relief in discoursing upon their wrongs with those of

their own color, and making the contamination greater,” said the factor,

who seemed inclined to view the matter in its proper light.

“Oh! what sir? That would never do. You mistake a nigger's feelings

entirely. Privileges never create respect with them. Just make a law to

leave 'em upon the wharf, and five hundred policemen wouldn't keep 'em

from spoiling every nigger in town, just destroying the sovereignty of

the law, and yielding a supreme right that we have always contended

for. It's 'contrary to law,' and we must carry out the law,” replied

Grimshaw.

“Pshaw! Talk such stuff to me! Just take away the sixteen hundred or

two thousand dollars that you make by the law; and you'd curse it for

a nuisance. It would become obsolete, and the poor devils of stewards

would do what they pleased; you'd never trouble your head about

them. Now, Grimshaw, be honest for once; tell us what you would do if

circumstances compelled the Captain to leave that nigger boy here?”

“Carry out the letter of the law; there's no alternative. But the

Captain swears he's a white man, and that would give him an opportunity

to prove it.”

“How is he to prove it, Grimshaw? We take away the power, and then ask

him to do what we make impossible. Then, of course, you would carry out

the letter of the law and sell him for a slave. * * * Well, I should

like to see the issue upon a question of that kind carried out upon an

English nigger. It would be more of a curse upon our slave institution

than every thing else that could be raised,” said the factor.

“Gentlemen, you might as well preach abolition at once, and then the

public would know what your sentiments were, and how to guard against

you. I must bid you good-by.” So saying, Mr. Grimshaw twisted his

whip, took a large quid of tobacco, and left the company to discuss the

question among themselves.

CHAPTER XVIII. LITTLE TOMMY AND THE POLICE.

WE must take the reader back to the old jail, and continue our scene

from where we left little Tommy spreading the Captain's present before

the imprisoned stewards, whose grateful thanks were showered upon the

head of the bestower. Kindness, be it ever so small, to a man in prison,

is like the golden rays of the rising sun lighting up the opening day.

They all partook of the refreshments provided for them with grateful

spirits.

It was near ten o'clock when Daley came to announce that it was time to

close the prison, and all strangers must withdraw. Tommy had insisted

upon stopping with Manuel during the night.

This man Daley was a proverbial drunkard, a tyrant in the exercise of

his “little brief authority,” and a notorious--. Singular as it may

seem, considering his position, he would quarrel with the men for a

glass of whiskey, had given the jailer more trouble than any other man,

and been several times confined in the cells for his incorrigible vices.

If any thing more was wanting to confirm our note, we could refer to

Colonel Condy, the very gentlemanly United States marshal in a very rude

manner, told him it was against the rules, and putting his hand to

his back, pushed him out of the cell and secured the bolts. The little

fellow felt his way through the passage and down the stairs in the dark

until he reached the corridor, where the jailer stood awaiting to

let him pass the outer iron-gate. “You've made a long stay, my little

fellow. You'll have a heap o' trouble to find the wharf, at this time o'

night. I'd o' let you stopped all night, but it's strictly against the

sheriff's orders,” said the jailer, as, he passed into the street, at

the same time giving him a list of imperfect directions about the course

to proceed.

The jail is in a distant and obscure part of the city, surrounded by

narrow streets and lanes, imperfectly laid out and undefined. In leaving

the walls of the prison, he mistook his direction, and the night being

very dark, with a light, drizzling rain, which commenced while he was in

the prison, the whole aspect of things seemed reversed. After travelling

about for some time, he found himself upon a narrow strip of land that

crossed a basin of water and led to Chisholm's mill. The different

appearance of things here convinced him of his error. Bewildered,

and not knowing which way to proceed, he approached a cross road, and

sitting down upon a log, wept bitterly. He soon heard a footstep, and as

it approached, his cares lightened. It proved to be a negro man from the

mill.

These mills are worked all night, and the poor negroes, wishing to

follow an example which massa sets on a grand scale, save that they

have an excuse in the fatigue of labor, will delegate some shrewd one of

their number to proceed to a Dutch “corner-shop” in the suburbs, run the

gauntlet of the police, and get a bottle of whiskey, When interrogated,

they are always “going for a bottle of molasses.” They keep a keen watch

for the police, and their cunning modes of eluding their vigilance forms

many amusing anecdotes. They are bound to have a pass from master, or

some white man; but if they can reach the shop in safety, the Dutchman

will always furnish them with one to return. It not unfrequently happens

that the guard-men are much more ignorant than the slaves. The latter

knowing this, will endeavor to find their station and approach by it,

taking with them either an old pass or a forged one, which the

guard-man makes a wonderful piece of importance about examining and

countersigning, though he can neither read nor write. Thus Sambo passes

on to get his molasses, laughing in his sleeve to think how he “fool

ignorant buckra.” A change of guard often forms a trap for Sambo, when

he is lugged to the guard-house, kept all night, his master informed in

the morning, and requested to step up and pay a fine, or Sambo's

back catches thirty-nine, thus noting a depression of value upon the

property. Sometimes his master pays the municipal fine, and administers

a domestic castigation less lacerating bound into the city on the usual

errand of procuring a little of molasses. When he first discovered

Tommy, he started back a few paces, as if in fear; but on being told by

Tommy that he was lost, and wanted to find his way to the wharves, he

approached and recovering, confidence readily, volunteered to see him to

the corner of Broad street. So, taking him by the hand, they proceeded

together until they reached the termination of the Causeway, and were

about to enter Tradd street, when suddenly a guard-man sprang from

behind an old shed. The negro, recognising his white belt and tap-stick,

made the best of his time, and set off at full speed down a narrow lane.

The watchman proceeded close at his heels, springing his rattle at every

step, and pouring out a volley of vile imprecations. Tommy stood for a

few moments, but soon the cries of the negro and the beating of clubs

broke upon his ear; he became terrified, and ran at the top of his speed

in an opposite direction. Again he had lost his way, and seemed in a

worse dilemma than before; he was weary and frightened, and hearing so

many stories among the sailors about selling white children for slaves,

and knowing the imprisonment of Manuel, which he did not comprehend,

his feelings were excited to the highest degree. After running for a few

minutes, he stopped to see if he could recognize his position. The first

thing that caught his eye was the old jail, looming its sombre walls in

the gloomy contrast of night. He followed the walls until he reached the

main gate, and then, taking an opposite direction from his former route,

proceeded along the street until he came to a lantern, shedding its

feeble light upon the murky objects at the corner of a narrow lane.

Here he stood for several minutes, not knowing which way to proceed: the

street he was in continued but a few steps farther, and turn which ever

way he would, darkness and obstacles rose to impede his progress. At

length he turned down the lane, and proceeded until he came to another

junction of streets; taking one which he thought would lead him in the

right direction, he wandered through it and into a narrow, circuitous

street, full of little, wretched-looking houses. A light glimmered from

one of them, and he saw a female passing to and fro before the window.

He approached and rapped gently upon the door. Almost simultaneously

the light was extinguished. He stood for a few minutes, and again rapped

louder than before; all was silent for some minutes. A drenching shower

had commenced, adding to the already gloomy picture; and the rustling

leaves on a tree that stood near gave an ominous sound to the excited

feelings of the child. He listened at the door with anxiety and fear, as

he heard whispers within; and as he was about to repeat his rapping,

a window on the right hand was slowly raised. The female who had been

pacing the floor protruded her head with a caution that bespoke alarm.

Her long, black hair hanging about her shoulders, and her tawny, Indian

countenance, with her ghost-like figure dressed in a white habiliment,

struck him with a sort of terror that wellnigh made him run.

“Who is that, at this time of night?” inquired the woman, in a low

voice.

“It's only me. I'm lost, and can't find my way to our vessel,” said

Tommy, in a half-crying tone.

“Mother,” said the woman, shutting the window, “it's only a little

sailor-boy, a stranger, and he's wet through.”

She immediately unbarred and opened the door, and invited him to come

in. Stepping beyond the threshold, she closed the door against the

storm, and placing a chair at the fire, told him to sit down and

warm himself. They were mulatto half-breeds, retaining all the

Indian features which that remnant of the tribe now in Charleston

are distinguished by a family well known in the city, yet under the

strictest surveillance of the police. Every thing around the little room

denoted poverty and neatness. The withered remnant of an aged Indian

mother lay stretched upon a bed of sickness, and the daughter, about

nineteen years old, had been watching over her, and administering those

comforts, which her condition required. “Why, mother, it's a'most twelve

o'clock. I don't believe he'll come to-night.”

She awaited her friend, or rather he whose mistress she had condescended

to be, after passing from several lords. The history of this female

remnant of beautiful Indian girls now left in Charleston, is a mournful

one. The recollection of their noble sires, when contrasted with their

present unhappy associations, affords a sad subject for reflection and

“this little boy can stop till morning in our room up-stairs,” said she,

looking up at an old Connecticut clock that adorned the mantel-piece.

“Oh! I could not stay all night. The mate would be uneasy about me, and

might send the crew to look for me. I'm just as thankful, but I couldn't

stop,” said Tommy.

“But you never can find the bay on such a night as this; and I've no

pass, or I would show you into Broad street, and then you could find the

way. I am afraid of the guardmen, and if they caught me and took me to

the station, my friend would abuse me awfully,” said Angeline, for

such was her name; and she laid her hand upon his arm to feel his wet

clothes.

He now arose from the chair, and putting on his hat, she followed him to

the door and directed him how to proceed to find Broad street.

He proceeded according to her directions, and soon found it. Now, he

thought, he was all right; but the wind had increased to a gale, and

having a full sweep through the street, it was as much as he could do to

resist it. He had scarcely reached half the distance of the street when

it came in such sudden gusts that he was forced to seek a refuge against

its fury in the recess of a door. He sat down upon a step, and buttoning

his little jacket around him, rested his head upon his knees, and

while waiting for the storm to abate, fell into a deep sleep. From this

situation he was suddenly aroused by a guardman, who seized him by the

collar, and giving him an unmerciful twitch, brought, him headlong upon

the sidewalk.

“What are you at here? Ah! another miserable vagrant, I suppose. We'll

take care of such rascals as you; come with me. We'll larn ye to be

round stealing at this time o' night.”

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

“Shut up! None of your lyin' to a policeman, you young rascal. I don't

want to hear, nor I won't stand your infernal lies.”

“Oh do, mister, let me tell you all about it, and I know you won't hurt

me. I'm only going to the vessel, if you'll show me the way,” said the

little fellow imploringly.

“Stop yer noise, ye lying young thief, you. Ye wouldn't be prowling

about at this time o' night if ye belonged to a vessel. 'Pon me soul,

I believe yer a nigger. Come to the light,” said the guardman, dragging

him up to a lamp near by. “Well, you a'n't a nigger, I reckon, but yer a

strolling vagrant, and that's worse,” he continued, after examining his

face very minutely. So, dragging him to the guardhouse as he would a

dog, and thrusting him into a sort of barrack-room, the captain of the

guard and several officials soon gathered around him to inquire the

difficulty. The officers listened to the guardman's story, with perfect

confidence in every thing he said, but refused to allow the little

fellow to reply in his own behalf. “I watched him for a long time, saw

him fumbling about people's doors, and then go to sleep in Mr. T--'s

recess. These boys are gettin' to be the very mischief-most dangerous

fellows we have to deal with,” said the policeman.

“Oh, no! I was only goin' to the brig, and got turned round. I've been

more than two hours trying to find my way in the storm. I'm sure I a'n't

done no harm. If ye'll only let me tell my story,” said Tommy.

“Shut up! We want no stories till morning. The mayor will settle your

hash to-morrow; and if you belong to a ship, you can tell him all about

it; but you'll have the costs to pay anyhow. Just lay down upon that

bench, and you can sleep there till morning; that's better than

loafing about the streets,” said the captain of the guard, a large,

portly-looking man, as he pointed Tommy to a long bench similar to those

used in barrack-rooms.

The little fellow saw it was no use to attempt a hearing, and going

quietly to the bench, he pulled off his man-a-war hat, and laying it

upon a chair, stretched himself out upon it, putting his little hands

under his head to ease it from the hard boards.

But he was not destined to sleep long in this position, for a loud,

groaning noise at the door, broke upon their ears though the pelting

fury of the storm, like one in agonizing distress.

“Heavens! what is that!” said the captain of the guard, suddenly

starting from his seat, and running for the door, followed by the

whole posse. The groans grew louder and more death-like in their

sound, accompanied by strange voices, giving utterance to horrible

imprecations, and a dragging upon the floor. The large door opened, and

what a sight presented itself! Three huge monsters, with side-arms on,

dragged in the poor negro who proffered to show Tommy into Broad street.

His clothes were nearly torn from his back, besmeared with mud, from

head to foot, and his face cut and mangled in the most shocking manner.

His head, neck, and shoulders, were covered with a gore of blood, and

still it kept oozing from his mouth and the cuts on his head. They

dragged him in as if he was a dying dog that had been beaten with a

club, and threw him into a corner, upon the floor, with just about as

much unconcern.

“Oh! massa! massa! kill me, massa, den 'em stop sufferin'!” said the

poor fellow, in a painful murmur, raising his shackled hands to his

head, and grasping the heavy chain that secured his neck, in the agony

of pain.

“What has he done?” inquired the officer.

“Resisted the guard, and ran when we told him to stop!” responded a trio

of voices. “Yes, and attempted to get into a house. Ah! you vagabond

you; that's the way we serve niggers like you!--Attempt to run again,

will you? I'll knock your infernal daylights out, you nigger you,” said

one of the party.

“It does seem tome that you might have taken him, and brought him up

with less severity,” said the officer.

“What else could we do, sure? Didn't we catch him prowling about with

a white fellow, and he runn'd till we couldn't get him. Indeed it was

nothing good they were after, and it's the like o' them that bees doing

all the mischief beyant the city.”

“An' 'imself, too, struck Muldown two pokes, 'efore he lave de hancuffs

be pat upon him, at all!” said another of the guardmen; and then turning

around, caught a glimpse of poor little Tommy, who had been standing up

near a desk, during the scene, nearly “frightened out of his wits.”

“By the pipers,--what! and is't here ye are? The same that was with

himself beyant! Come here, you spalpeen you. Wasn't ye the same what

runn'd whin we bees spaken to that nigger?” said the same guardman,

taking hold of Tommy's arm, and drawing him nearer the light.

“Yes, he was coming along with me, to show me”--

“Stop!--you know you are going to lie already. Better lock 'em both up

for the night, and let them be sent up in the morning,” said another.

“Then you won't let me speak for myself--”

“Hush, sir!” interrupted the officer; “you can tell your story in the

morning! but take care you are not a vagrant. If it's proved that

you were with that nigger at the improper hour, you'll get your back

scarred. Come, you have owned it, and I must lock you up.”

Without attempting to wash the blood off the negro, or dress his wounds,

they unlocked the handcuffs, and loosened the chain from his neck,

handling him with less feeling than they would a dumb brute. Relieved of

his chains, they ordered him to get up.

The poor creature looked up imploringly, as if to beg them to spare his

life, for he was too weak to speak. He held up his hands, drenched with

blood, while beneath his head was a pool of gore that had streamed from

his mounds. “None of your infernal humbuggery-you could run fast enough.

Just get up, and be spry about it, or I'll help you with the cowhide,”

said the officer, calling to one of the guardmen to bring it to him. He

now made an effort, and had got upon his knees, when the guardman that

seemed foremost in his brutality fetched him a kick with his heavy boots

in the side, that again felled him to the ground with a deep groan.

“Oh-tut! that will not do. You mus'n't kill the nigger; his master will

come for him in the morning,” said the officer, stooping down and taking

hold of his arm with his left hand, while holding a cowhide in his

right. “Come, my boy, you must get up and go into the lock-up,” he

continued.

“Massa! oh, good massa, do-don't! I's most dead now, wha'for ye no

lef me whare a be?” said he in a whining manner; and making a second

attempt, fell back upon the floor, at which two of them seized him by

the shoulders, and dragging him into a long, dark, cell-like room, threw

him violently upon the floor. Then returning to the room, the officer

took Tommy by the arm, and marching him into the same room, shut the

door to smother his cries. The little fellow was so frightened, that he

burst into an excitement of tears. The room was dark, and as gloomy as

a cavern. He could neither lie down, sleep, nor console himself. He

thought of Manuel, only to envy his lot, and would gladly have shared

his imprisonment, to be relieved from such a horrible situation. Morning

was to bring, perhaps, worse terrors. He thought of the happy scenes

of his rustic home in Dunakade, and his poor parents, but nothing could

relieve the anguish of his feelings. And then, how could he get word to

his Captain? If they were so cruel to him now, he could not expect them

to be less so in the morning. In this manner, he sat down upon the floor

with the poor negro, and, if he could do nothing more, sympathized with

his feelings. The poor negro murmured and groaned in a manner that would

have enlisted the feelings of a Patagonian; and in this way he continued

until about three o'clock in the morning, when his moaning became so

loud and pitiful, that the officer of the guard came to the door with an

attendant, and unbolting it, entered with a lantern in his hand. He held

the light toward his face, and inquired what he was making such a noise

about? “Oh! good massa, good massa, do send for docta; ma head got a

pile o' cuts on him,” said he, putting his hand to his head. The officer

passed the lantern to his attendant, and after putting a pair of gloves

on his hands, began to feel his head, turn aside his torn clothes, and

wipe the dirt from the places where the blood seemed to be clotted.

“Good gracious! I didn't conjecture that you were cut so bad. Here, my

good fellow, (addressing himself to Tommy,) hold the lantern. Michael,

go get a pail of water, and some cloths,” said he, very suddenly

becoming awakened to the real condition of the man, after he had

exhibited a coldness that bordered on brutality.

Water and cloths were soon brought. The attendant, Michael, commenced

to strip his clothes off, but the poor fellow was so sore that he

screeched, in the greatest agony, every time he attempted to touch him.

“Be easy,” said the officer, “he's hurt pretty badly. He must a' been

mighty refractory, or they'd never beaten him in this manner,” he

continued, opening a roll of adhesive plaster, and cutting it into

strips. After washing, him with water and whiskey, they dressed

his wounds with the plaster, and bound his head with an old silk

handkerchief which they found in his pocket, after which they left the

light burning and retired.

After they retired, Tommy inquired of the negro how they came to keep

him so long, before they brought him to the guard-house? It proved, that

as soon as they came up with him, the first one knocked him down with a

club; and they all at once commenced beating him with their bludgeons,

and continued until they had satisfied their mad fury. And while he lay

groaning in the streets, they left one of their number in charge, while

the others proceeded to get handcuffs and chains, in which they bound

him, and dragged him, as it were, the distance of four squares to the

guard-house. What a sublime picture for the meditations of a people who

boast of their bravery and generosity!

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

SHORTLY after daylight, Tommy fell into a dozing sleep, from which he

was awakened by the mustering of the prisoners who had been brought up

during the night, and were to appear before the mayor at nine o'clock.

A few minutes before eight o'clock, an officer opened the cell-door, and

they were ordered to march out into a long room. In this room they found

all the prisoners gathered. There were three blacks and five whites,

who had been arrested on different charges; and as the mayor's court was

merely a tribunal of commitment-not judgment-if the charges upon which

the prisoners were brought up were sustained-which they generally were,

because the policeman who made the arrest was the important witness,

they were committed to await the tardy process of the law.

Considerable uneasiness had been felt on board of the Janson for Tommy,

and the Captain suggested that he might have got astray among the dark

lanes of the city, and that the mate had better send some of the crew

to look for him. The mate, better acquainted with Tommy's feelings and

attachment for Manuel than he was with the rules of the prison and Mr.

Grimshaw's arbitrary orders, assured the Captain that such a course

would be entirely unnecessary, for he knew when he left that he would

stop all night with Manuel. This quieted the Captain's apprehensions,

and he said no more about it until he sat down to breakfast. “I miss

Tommy amazingly,” said the Captain. “If he stopped all night, he should

be here by this time. I think some one had better be sent to the jail

to inquire for him.” Just as he arose from the table, one of the crew

announced at the companion that a person on deck wished to see the

Captain. On going up, he found a policeman, who informed him that a

little boy had been arrested as a vagrant in the street, last night, and

when brought before the mayor a few minutes ago, stated that he belonged

to his vessel, and the mayor had despatched him to notify the master.

“Circumstances are suspicious; he was seen in company with a negro of

very bad habits; but if you can identify the boy, you had better come

quick, or he'll be sent to jail, and you'll have some trouble to get him

out,” said the messenger, giving the Captain a description of the boy.

“Oh yes!” said the Captain, “that's my Tommy. I verily believe they'll

have us all in jail before we get away from the port.” Numerous

appointments engrossed his time, and he had promised to meet the consul

at an early hour that morning. Notwithstanding this, he gave a few

orders to the mate about getting the hatches ready and receiving

the port-wardens, and then immediately repaired to the all-important

guard-house. He was just in time to receive the mortifying intelligence

that the mayor's court had concluded its sitting, and to see little

Tommy, with a pair of handcuffs on his hand, in the act of being

committed to jail by a Dutch constable. He stopped the constable, and

being told that his honor was yet in the room, put a couple of dollars

into his hand to await his intercession. Another fortunate circumstance

favored him; just as he stopped the constable, he saw his friend,

Colonel S--, approaching. The colonel saw there was trouble, and with

his usual, characteristic kindness, hastened up and volunteered his

services.

We must now return to the arraignment, as it proceeded after the

messenger had been despatched.

The negro confined with Tommy presented a wretched picture when brought

into the light room among the other prisoners. His head was so swollen

that no trace of feature was left in his face. Cuts and gashes were

marked with plaster all over his neck and face; his head tied up with

an old red handkerchief; his eyes, what could be seen of them, more like

balls of blood than organs of sight; while the whiskey and water with

which his head had been washed, had mixed with the blood upon his

clothes, and only served to make its appearance more disgusting.

Altogether, a more pitiful object never was presented to human sight.

Some minutes before the clock struck nine, an intelligent-looking

gentleman, very well dressed, and portly in his appearance, entered

the room. He was evidently kindly disposed, but one of those men whose

feelings prompt them to get through business with despatch, rather

than inquire into the circumstances of aggravated cases. He held a

consultation with the officer for some minutes with reference to the

prisoners. After which he mounted a little tribune, and addressing a

few words to the white prisoners, (a person who acted the part of clerk

announced court by rapping upon a desk with a little mallet,) inquired

whether the officers had notified the owners of the negroes. Being

informed that they had, he proceeded with the negroes first. One, by

some good fortune, was taken away by his master, who paid the usual

fee to swell the city treasury; another was sentenced to receive twenty

paddles on the frame at the workhouse; and the third, the man we have

described, being brought forward, weak with the loss of blood, leaned

his hand upon the back of a chair. “Stand up straight!” said the

officer, in a commanding tone.

“Now, my boy, this is twice you have been before this court. Your master

has left you to the mercy of the law, and given strict orders to the

police in the event that you were caught a third time. Your crime is

worse now, for you were caught in company with that white boy-probably

on some errand of villany, prowling about the streets after drum-beat.

I shall, in consideration of the facts here stated by the police, whose

evidence I am bound to recognise, sentence you to nineteen paddles on

the frame, and to be committed to jail, in accordance with your master's

orders, there to await his further directions.

“Arraign the white prisoners according to the roll, Mr.--. Have you sent

a message to the Captain about that boy?” inquired the mayor.

“No, yer honor; but I will send at once,” said the officer, stepping

into the passage and calling an attendant.

The little fellow was arraigned first. He stood up before the mayor

while the ruffianly policeman who arrested him preferred the charges

and swore to them, adding as much to give coloring as possible. “Now, my

man, let me hear what you have got to say for yourself. I have sent for

your captain,” said the mayor, looking as if he really felt pity for the

little fellow.

He commenced to tell his simple story, but soon became so convulsed with

tears that he could proceed no further. “I only went to the jail to see

Manuel, the steward, and I got lost, and begged the black man to show me

the way”--said he, sobbing.

“Well, I have heard enough,” said the mayor, interrupting him. “You

could not have been at the jail at that time o' night-impossible. It

was after hours-contrary to rules-and only makes the matter worse for

yourself. You can stand aside, and if the Captain comes before court

is through, we will see further; if not, you must be committed as a

vagrant. I'm afraid of you young strollers.”

The officer of the guard, as if the poor boy's feelings were not already

sufficiently harassed, took him by the arm, and pushing him into a

corner, said, “There, you young scamp, sit down. You'll get your deserts

when you get to the jail.”

He sat down, but could not restrain his feelings. The presence of the

Captain was his only hope. He saw the prisoners arraigned one by one,

and join him as they were ordered for committal. He was handcuffed like

the rest, and delivered to the constable. The reader can imagine the

smile of gladness that welcomed the Captain's timely appearance. The

latter's exhibition of feeling, and the simple exclamation of the

child's joy, formed a striking picture of that fondness which a loving

child manifests when meeting its parents after a long absence.

“Take the irons off that child,” said the colonel to the constable. “A

man like you should not put such symbols of ignominy upon a youth like

that.”

“I would do any thing to oblige you, colonel; but I cannot without

orders from the mayor,” returned the man, very civilly.

“I'll see that you do, very quick,” rejoined the colonel, impatiently;

and taking the little fellow by the arm in a compassionate manner, led

him back into the presence of the mayor, followed by the Captain.

“I want to know what you are committing this lad for,” said the colonel,

setting his hat upon the table, while his face flushed with indignation.

“Vagrancy, and caught prowling about the streets with a negro at

midnight. That is the charge, colonel,” replied the mayor, with

particular condescension and suavity.

“Was there any proof adduced to substantiate that fact?”

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

facie.”

“Then it was entirely ex parte. But you know the character of these

policemen, and the many aggravated circumstances that have arisen from

their false testimony. I wish to cast no disrespect, your honor; but

really they will swear to any thing for a fee, while their unscrupulous

bribery has become so glaring, that it is a disgrace to our police

system. Have you heard the boy's story?” said the colonel.

“Well, he began to tell a crooked story, so full of admissions, and then

made such a blubbering about it, that I couldn't make head or tail of

it.”

“Well, here is the Captain of his vessel, a friend of mine, whom I

esteem a gentleman-for all captains ought to be gentlemen, not excepting

Georgia captains and majors,” said the colonel, jocosely, turning round

and introducing the Captain to his honor. “Now, your honor, you will

indulge me by listening to the little fellow's story, which will be

corroborated in its material points by the statements of the Captain,

which, I trust, will be sufficient; if not, we shall recur to the

jailer.”

“It will be sufficient. I am only sorry there has been so much trouble

about it,” said the mayor.

The boy now commenced to tell his story, which the mayor listened

to with all learned attention. No sooner had Tommy finished, and the

Captain arose to confirm his statements, than the mayor declared himself

satisfied, apologized for the trouble it had caused, and discharged the

boy upon paying the costs, the amount of which the colonel took from his

pocket and threw upon the table. Thus was Tommy's joy complete; not

so the poor negro whose ill luck he shared. This high-sounding mayor's

court was like Caesar's court, with the exceptions in Caesar's favor.

CHAPTER XX. EMEUTE AMONG THE STEWARDS.

SEVERAL days had passed ere we again introduce the reader to the cell of

the imprisoned stewards. The captain of the Janson had been assured by

Mr. Grimshaw that every thing was comfortable at the jail, and Manuel

would be well cared for. Confiding in this, the activity of the consul

to bring the matter before the proper authorities-and the manner

in which his own time was engrossed with his business-left him no

opportunity to visit Manuel at the jail. Tommy and one of the sailors

had carried him his hammock, and a few things from the ship's stores;

and with this exception, they had but little to eat for several days.

Copeland had but a few days more to remain, and, together with those who

were with him, had exhausted their means, in providing from day to

day, during their imprisonment. The poor woman who did their washing,

a generous-hearted mulatto, had brought them many things, for which she

asked no compensation. Her name was Jane Bee, and when the rules of the

jail made every man his own washerwoman, she frequently washed for those

who had nothing to pay her. But her means were small, and she worked

hard for a small pittance, and had nothing to bring them for several

days. They were forced to take the allowance of bread, but could not

muster resolution to eat the sickly meat.

Those who had suffered from it before, took it as a natural consequence,

looking to the time of their release, as if it was to bring a happy

change in their lives. But Manuel felt that it was an unprecedented

outrage upon his feelings, and was determined to remonstrate against

it. He knocked loudly at the door, and some of the prisoners hearing it,

reported to the jailer, who sent Daley to answer it. As soon as the door

was opened, he rushed past, and succeeded in gaining the iron door that

opened into the vestibule, where he could converse with the Jailer,

through the grating, before Daley could stop him.

The jailer seeing him at the grating, anticipated his complaint. “Well,

Pereira,--what's the matter up-stairs?” said he.

“For God's sake, jailer, what am I put in here for-to starve? We cannot

eat the meat you send us, and we have had little else than bread and

water for three days. Do give us something to eat, and charge it to

consul, or Captain, an' I'll pay it from my wages when I get out, if I

ever do,” said he.

“My dear fellow!” said the jailer, “no one knows your case better than

I do; but I am poor, and the restrictions which I am under allow me

no privileges. You had all better take your meat in the morning-if you

won't take soup-and try to cook it, or get Jane to do it for you. I

will give you some coffee and bread from my own table, to-night, and you

better say as little about it as possible, for if Grimshaw hears it, he

may lock you up.”

“Do, I shall be very thankful, for we are really suffering from hunger,

in our cell, and I pay you when I get money from Captain,” said Manuel,

manifesting his thankfulness at the jailer's kindness.

“I will send it up in a few minutes, but you needn't trouble yourself

about pay-I wouldn't accept it!” said the jailer; and as good as his

word, he sent them up a nice bowl of coffee for each, and some bread,

butter, and cheese. They partook of the humble fare, with many thanks to

the donor. Having despatched it, they seated themselves upon the

floor, around the faint glimmer of a tin lamp, while Copeland read

the twentieth and twenty-first chapters of the Acts of the Apostles.

Copeland was a pious negro, and his behaviour during his imprisonment

enlisted the respect of every one in jail. Singular as the taste may

seem, he had his corner in the cell decorated with little framed

prints. Among them we noticed one of the crucifixion, and another of the

Madonna. After reading the chapters, they retired to their hard beds.

About nine o'clock the next morning, Daley came to the door with a piece

of neck meat, so tainted and bloody that its smell and looks more than

satisfied the stomach.

“Here it is, boys,” said he; “yer four pound, but ye's better take soup,

cos ye'll niver cook that bone, anyhow.”

“Do you think we're like dogs, to eat such filth as that? No! I'd rather

starve!” said Manuel.

“Indeed, an' ye'll larn to ate any thing win ye'd be here a month. But

be dad, if ye don't watch number one about here, ye's won't get much

nohow,” replied Daley, dropping the bloody neck upon the floor, and

walking out.

“Better take it,” said Copeland. “There's no choice, and hunger don't

stand for dainties, especially in this jail, where everybody is famished

for punishment. If we don't eat it, we can give it to some of the poor

prisoners up-stairs.”

“While I have good ship-owners, and a good Captain, I never will eat

such stuff as that; oh! no,” returned Manuel.

The meat was laid in a corner for the benefit of the flies; and when

dinner time arrived, the same hard extreme arrived with it-bread and

water. And nobody seemed to have any anxieties on their behalf; for two

of them had written notes to their Captains, on the day previous, but

they remained in the office for want of a messenger to carry them.

Fortunately, Jane called upon them in the afternoon, and brought a nice

dish of rice and another of homony.

We will here insert a letter we received from a very worthy friend, who,

though he had done much for the Charleston people, and been repaid

in persecutions, was thrown into jail for a paltry debt by a ruthless

creditor. Cleared by a jury of twelve men, he was held in confinement

through the wretched imperfection of South Carolina law, to await nearly

twelve months for the sitting of the “Appeal Court,” more to appease the

vindictiveness of his enemies than to satisfy justice, for it was well

understood that he did not owe the debt. His letter speaks for itself.

Charleston Jail, March 31, '52.

MY DEAR FRIEND,--I could not account for your absence during the last

few days, until this morning, when Mr. F***** called upon me for a few

moments, and from him I learnt that you had been quite unwell. If you

are about to-morrow, do call upon me; for a more dreary place, or one

where less regard is paid to the calls of humanity, cannot be found

among the nations of the earth.

Such is the ordinary condition of suffering within this establishment,

that men, and even women, are forced to all kinds of extremes to

sustain life; and, to speak what experience has taught me, crime is more

increased than reduced by this wretched system. There seems to be little

distinction among the prisoners, and no means to observe it, except in

what is called Mount Rascal on the third story. Pilfering is so common,

that you cannot leave your room without locking your door. The jailer

is a good, kind-hearted old man, very often giving from his own table to

relieve the wants of debtors, many of whom repay him with ingratitude. I

have suffered many privations from shipwreck and cold, but never until

I came to South Carolina was I compelled to endure imprisonment and

subsist several days upon bread and water.

Talk about chivalry and hospitality! How many men could join with me and

ask, “Where is it?” But why should I demur, when I see those abroad who

have been driven from this State to seek bread; when I hear the many

voices without tell of struggling to live, for want of system in

mechanical employment, and when I look upon several within these sombre

walls who are even worse than me. Here is a physician, with a wife

and large family, committed for a debt which he was unable to pay.

His father's name stands among the foremost of the State--a General of

distinction, who offered his life for her in time of war, and whose name

honors her triumphs, and has since graced the councils of state.

General Hammond, whose name occupies such a conspicuous place in the

military history of South Carolina. The father's enthusiasm for his

country's cause led him to sacrifice his all, and by it he entailed

misfortune upon his descendants. When I consider the case of Shannon,

whose eleven years and seven months' imprisonment for debt, as it

was called, but which eventually proved to be a question turning upon

technicalities of law, gave him, body and soul, to the vindictiveness of

a persecutor, whose unrelenting malignity was kept up during that long

space of time. It was merely a breach of limitation between merchants,

the rights of which should be governed by commercial custom. Shannon

had, amassed about twenty thousand dollars by hard industry; his health

was waning, and he resolved to retire with it to his native county.

The gem proved too glaring for the lynx eye of a “true Carolinian,”

who persuaded him to invest his money in cotton. Moved by flattering

inducements, he authorized a factor to purchase for him upon certain

restrictions, which, unfortunately for himself, were not drawn up with

regard to legal enforcement-one of those singular instruments between a

merchant and an inexperienced man which a professional quibbler can

take advantage of. Cotton was at the tip-top, and very soon Shannon

was presented with an account of purchase, and draft so far beyond his

limits, that he demurred, and rejected the purchase entirely; but some

plot should be laid to entrap him. The factor undertook the force

game, notified him that the cotton was held subject to his order, and

protested the draft for the appearance of straightforwardness. Cotton

shortly fell to the other extreme, the lot was “shoved up” for sale on

Shannon's account, Shannon was sued for the balance, held to bail, and

in default committed to prison. His confinement and endurance of it

would form a strange chapter in the history of imprisonment for debt.

Carrying his money with him, he closed the door of his cell, and neither

went out nor would allow any one but the priest to enter for more than

three years; and for eleven years and seven months he paced the room

upon a diagonal line from corner to corner, until he wore the first

flooring, of two-and-a-quarter-inch pine, entirely through.

I might go on and tell of many others, whose poverty was well known,

and yet suffered years of imprisonment for debt; but I find I have

digressed. I must relate an amusing affair which took place this morning

between Manuel Pereira, the steward of the English brig Janson, which

put into this port in distress, and the jailer. He is the man about whom

so much talk and little feeling has been enlisted--a fine, well-made,

generous-hearted Portuguese. He is olive-complexioned--as light as many

of the Carolinians--intelligent and obliging, and evidently unaccustomed

to such treatment as he receives here.

Manuel appeared before the jailer's office this morning with two junks

of disgusting-looking meat, the neck-bones, tainted and bloody, in each

hand. His Portuguese ire was up. “Mister Poulnot, what you call dis? In

South Carolina you feed man on him, ah? In my country, ah yes! we feed

him to dog. What you call him? May-be somethin' what me no know him. In

South Carolina, prison sailor when he shipwreck, starve him on nosin',

den tell him eat this, ah! I sails 'round ze world, but never savage man

gives me like zat to eat! No, I starve 'fore I eat him, be gar! Zar,

you take him,” said he, throwing the pieces of meat upon the floor in

disdain.

“Meat! Yes, it's what's sent here for us. You mustn't grumble at me;

enter your complaints to the sheriff, when he comes,” said the jailer,

with an expression of mortification on his countenance.

“Meat, ah! You call dat meat in South Carolina? I call him bull-neck,

not fit for dog in my country. I see, when Capitan come, vat he do,”

said Manuel, turning about and going to his room in a great excitement.

“You'd better be careful how you talk, or you may get locked up when the

sheriff comes.”

It seems that the Captain had received a note from him, addressed by one

of the white prisoners on the same floor, and reached the jail just as

Manuel had ascended the stairs. He rang the bell and requested to see

Manuel.

“Manuel Pereira?” inquired the jailer.

“Yes,” said the Captain, “he is my steward.”

He heard the Captain's voice, and immediately returned to the lobby. The

tears ran down his cheeks as soon as he saw his old protector. “Well,

Manuel, I am glad to see you, but sorry that it is in imprisonment.

Tell me what is the matter. Don't they use you well here?” inquired the

Captain.

Stepping within the office door, he caught up the pieces of meat, and

bringing them out in his hands, held them up. “There, Capitan, that

no fit for man, is it?” said he. “Law send me prison, but law no give

not'ing to eat. What I do dat people treat me so? Ah, Capitan, bull

neck, by gar, yes-bull born in South Carolina, wid two neck. Ils sont

reduits l'extremit,” said he, concluding with broken French.

“That cannot be; it's against the law to kill bulls in South Carolina,”

interrupted the jailer jocosely.

“Must be. I swear he bull-neck, 'cas he cum every day just like him.

Bull born wid one neck no cum so many. What I get for breakfast,

Capitan, ah?--piece bad bread. What I get for dinner, ah?--bull-neck.

Yes, what I get for supper, too?--piece bread and bucket o' water.

May-be he bad, may be he good, just so he come. You think I live on dat,

Capitan?” said he, in reply to the Captain's questions.

The Captain felt incensed at such treatment, and excused himself for not

calling before; yet he could not suppress a smile that stole upon his

countenance in consequence of Manuel's quaint earnestness.

“That is certainly strange fare for a human being; but the supper

seems rather a comical one. Did you drink the bucket of water, Manuel?”

inquired the Captain, retaining a sober face.

“Capitan, you know me too well for dat. I not ask 'em nozin' what he no

get, but I want my coffee for suppe'. I no eat him like zat,” throwing

the putrid meat upon the floor again.

“Hi, hi! That won't do in this jail. You're dirtying up all my floor,”

said the jailer, calling a negro boy and ordering him to carry the

bull-necks, as Manuel called them, into the kitchen.

“You call him dirt, ah, Miser Jailer? Capitan, just come my room; I

shown him,” said Manuel, leading the way up-stairs, and the Captain

followed. A sight at the cell was enough, while the sickly stench forbid

him to enter beyond the threshold. He promised Manuel that he would

provide for him in future, and turning about suddenly, retreated into

the lower lobby.

“Jailer, what does all this mean? Do you allow men to starve in a land

of plenty, and to suffer in a cell like that?” asked the Captain in a

peremptory tone.

“I feel for the men, but you must enter your complaints to the

sheriff-the ration of the jail is entirely in his hands.”

“But have you no voice in it, by which you can alleviate their

situation?”

“Not the least! My duty is to keep every thing-every thing to rights,

as far as people are committed. You will find the sheriff in his office,

any time between this and two o'clock,” said the jailer. And the Captain

left as suddenly as he came.

You will think I have written you an essay, instead of a letter inviting

you to come and see me. Accept it for its intention, and excuse the

circumstances. Your obedient servant,

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

THE appearance of things at the jail was forlorn in the extreme.

The Captain knew the integrity of Manuel, and not only believed his

statement, but saw the positive proofs to confirm them. He repaired to

the sheriff's office, and inquiring for that functionary, was pointed to

Mr. Grimshaw, who sat in his large chair, with his feet upon the table,

puffing the fumes of a very fine-flavored Havana, as unconcerned as

if he was lord in sovereignty over every thing about the city. “I am

captain of the Janson, and have called to inquire about my steward?”

said the Captain.

“Ah! yes,--you have a nigger fellow in jail. Oh! by-the-by, that's the

one there was so much fuss about, isn't it?” said Mr. Grimshaw, looking

up.

“It is an imperative duty on me to seek the comfort of my officers

and crew,” said the Captain. “I received a note from my steward, this

morning,--here it is, (handing him the note,) you can read it. He

requested me to call upon him at the jail, where I lost no time in

going, and found what he stated there to be too true. How is it! From

the great liberality of tone which everywhere met my ears when I first

arrived, I was led to believe that he would be made comfortable; and

that the mere confinement was the only feature of the law that was a

grievance. Now I find that to be the only tolerable part of it. When a

man has committed no crime, and is imprisoned to satisfy a caprice

of public feeling, it should be accompanied with the most favoring

attendants. To couple it with the most disgraceful abuses, as are shown

here, makes it exceedingly repugnant. If we pay for confining these men,

and for their living while they are confined, in God's name let us get

what we pay for!”

The reader will observe that Mr. Grimshaw was a man of coarse manners

and vulgar mind, with all their traces preserved on the outer man. He

looked up at the Captain with a presumptuous frown, and then said, “Why,

Mr. Captain, how you talk! But that kind o' talk won't do here in

South Carolina. That nigger o' yourn gives us a mighty site of trouble,

Captain. He doesn't seem to understand that he must be contented in

jail, and live as the other prisoners do. He gets what the law requires,

and if he gives us any further trouble, we shall lock him up in the

third story.”

“You cannot expect him to be contented, when you furnish the means of

discontent. But I did not come here to argue with you, nor to ask any

thing as a favour, but as a right. My steward has been left to suffer!

Am I to pay for what he does not get? Or am I to pay you for the

pretence, and still be compelled to supply him on account of the owners?

You must excuse my feelings, for I have had enough to provoke them!”

returned the Captain.

“That business is entirely my own! He gets what the State allows, and I

provide. Your steward never wrote that note; it was dictated by some of

them miserable white prisoners. I can hear no complaints upon such cases

as them. If I were to listen to all these nonsensical complaints, it

would waste all my time. I wish the devil had all the nigger stewards

and their complaints; the jail's in a fuss with them all the time. I can

hear nothing further, sir-nothing further!” said Grimshaw emphatically,

interrupting the Captain as he attempted to speak; at which the Captain

became so deeply incensed, that he relieved his feelings in that sort of

plain English which a Scotchman can best bestow in telling a man what he

thinks of his character.

“You must remember, sir, you are in the office of the sheriff of the

county-parish, I mean,--and I am, sir, entitled to proper respect.

Begone!--avaunt! you have no right to come here and traduce my character

in that way. You musn't take me for a parish beadle,” said Grimshaw,

contorting the unmeaning features of his visage, and letting fly a

stream of tobacco juice in his excitement.

“If you have no laws to give me justice, you have my opinion of your

wrongs,” returned the Captain, and taking his hat, left the office with

the intention of returning to the jail. On reflection, he concluded

to call upon Colonel S--, which he did, and finding him in his office,

stated the circumstances to him.

“These things are the fruits of imbecility; but I am sorry to say there

is no relief from them. We are a curious people, and do a great many

curious things according to law, and leave a great many things undone

that the law and lawmakers ought to do. But I will go with you to the

jail, and whatever my influence will effect is at your service,” said

the Colonel, putting on his hat, and accompanying the Captain to the

jail.

Mr. Grimshaw had forestalled them, and after having given the jailer

particular instructions to lock Manuel up if he made any further

complaint, and to carry out his orders upon the peril of his situation,

met them a few steps from the outer gate, on his return. “There,

Captain!” said Grimshaw, making a sort of halt, “I have given the jailer

particular orders in regard to your grumbling nigger!”

Neither the Captain nor Colonel S--took any notice of his remarks, and

passed on into the jail. Colonel S--interceded for the man, explaining

the circumstances which had unfortunately brought him there, and begged

the jailer's kind consideration in his behalf. The jailer told them what

his orders had been, but promised to do as far as was in his power, and

to see any thing that was sent to him safely delivered.

After leaving the jail, Colonel S--proposed a walk, and they proceeded

along a street running at right angles with the jail, until they came

to a corner where a large brick building was in process of erection.

The location was not in what might strictly be called “the heart of the

city,” nor was it in the suburbs. Carpenters and masons, both black and

white, were busily employed in their avocations, and from the distance

all seemed fair and moving with despatch. As they approached nearer,

cries and moans sounded upon the air, and rose high above the clatter of

the artisans' work. The Captain quickened his pace, but the colonel,

as if from a consciousness of the effect, halted, and would fain have

retraced his steps. “Come!” said the Captain, “let us hasten-they are

killing somebody!” They approached the building, and entered by an open

door in the basement. The passage, or entry-way, was filled with all

sorts of building materials; and on the left, another door opened into

a long basement apartment, with loose boards laid upon the floor-joists

overhead. Here in this dark apartment was the suffering object whose

moans had attracted their attention. A large billet of wood, about six

feet long and three feet square, which had the appearance of being used

for a chopping-block, laid near. A poor negro man, apparently advanced

in years, was stripped naked and bent over the block, in the shape of a

horse-shoe, with his hands and feet closely pinioned to stakes, driven

in the ground on each side. His feet were kept close together, and close

up to the log, while he was drawn over, tight by the hands, which were

spread open. Thus, with a rope around his neck, tied in a knot at

the throat, with each end carried to the pinion where his hands were

secured, his head and neck were drawn down to the tightest point. The

very position was enough to have killed an ordinary human being in less

than six hours. His master, a large, robust man, with a strong Irish

brogue, started at their appearance, as if alarmed at the presence

of intruders, while holding his hand in the attitude of administering

another blow. “There! you infernal nigger; steal again, will you?”

said he, frothing at the mouth with rage--with his coat off, his

shirt-sleeves rolled up, and his face, hands, arms and shirt-bosom so

bespattered with blood, that a thrill of horror ran through the Captain.

On the ground lay several pieces of hoop, broken and covered with blood,

while he held in his hand another piece, (which he had torn from a

lime-cask,) reeking with blood, presenting the picture of a murderer

bestained with the blood of his victim. But the poor sufferer's

punishment had wasted his strength,--his moans had become so faint as to

be scarcely perceptible. His posteriors were so cut and mangled that we

could compare them to nothing but a piece of bullock's-liver, with its

tenacity torn by craven dogs. His body was in a profuse perspiration,

the sweat running from his neck and shoulders, while the blood streamed

from his bruises, down his legs, and upon some shavings on the ground.

Just at this moment a boy brought a pail of water, and set it down close

by the tyrant's feet. “Go away, boy!” said he, and the boy left as

quick as possible. The Captain stood dismayed at the bloody picture.

“Unmerciful man!” said the colonel in a peremptory tone; “what have you

been doing here? You fiend of hell, let the man up! You own slaves to

bring disgrace upon us in this manner! Epithets of contempt and disgust

are too good for you. It is such beasts as you who are creating a

popular hatred against us, and souring the feelings of our countrymen.

Let the man up instantly; the very position you have him in is enough to

kill him, and, if I'm not mistaken, you've killed him already.”

“Indeed, he's me own property, and it's yerself won't lose a ha'penny if

he's kilt. An' I'll warrant ye he's cur't of stalin' better than the man

beyant at the wurk'o'se would be doin' if. Bad luck to the nager,

an' it's the second time he'd be doin' that same thing,” said he, as

unconcernedly as if he had just been killing a calf.

“I'll 'your own' you, you miserable wretch! Your abuse and cruel

treatment of your slaves is becoming a public thing; and if you a'n't

very careful, something will be done about it before council. If

they are your own, you must not treat them worse than dogs; they have

feeling, if you have no compassion. Be quick! release him at once!”

demanded the colonel, feeling the man's wrist and head.

The tyrant vent deliberately to work, unloosing the cords. This provoked

the colonel still more, and taking his knife from his pocket, he severed

the cords that bound his hands and feet, while as suddenly the Captain

sprang with his knife and severed those that bound his hands and

neck. “Stop, Captain, stop! take no part,” said the colonel, with a

significant look.

“Gintlemen, I wish yes wouldn't interfere with my own business,” said

the master.

“Take him up, you villanous wretch! I speak to you as you deserve,

without restraint or respect,” again the colonel repeated.

He called to the boy who was bringing the pail of water when they

entered. He came forward, and taking the poor fellow by the shoulders,

this beast in human form cried out, “Get up now, ye miserable thief,

ye.” The poor fellow made a struggle, but as the black man raised his

head-which seemed to hang as a dead weight-exhaustion had left him

without strength, and he fell back among the bloody shavings like a

mutilated mass of lifeless flesh.

“None of your humbugging; yer worth a dozen dead niggers anyhow,” said

he, taking up the pail of water and throwing nearly half of it over him;

then passing the bucket to the black man and ordering him to get more

water and wash him down; then to get some saltpetre and a sponge to sop

his flesh.

“Well,” said the colonel, “I have seen a good deal of cruelty to slaves,

but this is the most beastly I have ever beheld. If you don't send for

a doctor at once, I shall report you. That man will die, to a moral

certainty. Now, you may depend upon what I say-if that man dies, you'll

feel the consequences, and I shall watch you closely.”

“Sure I always takes care of me own niggers, an' it's himself that won't

be asked to do a stroke of work for a week, but have the same to git

well in,” said the tyrant as the colonel and Captain were leaving.

“God be merciful to us, and spare us from the savages of mankind. That

scene, with its bloody accompaniment, will haunt me through life. Do

your laws allow such things?” said the Captain, evidently excited.

“To tell the truth, Captain,” said the colonel, “our laws do not reach

them. These men own a few negroes, which, being property, they exercise

absolute control over; a negro's testimony being invalid, gives them an

unlimited power to abuse and inflict punishment; while, if a white man

attempts to report such things, the cry of 'abolitionist' is raised

against him, and so many stand ready to second the cry, that he must

have a peculiar position if he does not prejudice his own interests

and safety. I am sorry it is so; but it is too true, and while it

stigmatizes the system, it works against ourselves. The evil is in the

defects of the system, but the remedy is a problem with diverse and

intricate workings, which, I own, are beyond my comprehension to solve.

The reason why I spoke to you as I did when you cut the pinions from the

man's hands, was to give you a word of precaution. That is a bad man.

Negroes would rather be sold to a sugar plantation in Louisiana any

time than be sold to him. He soon works them down; in two years, fine,

healthy fellows become lame, infirm, and sickly under him; he never

gives them a holiday, and seldom a Sunday, and half-starves them at

that. If his feelings had been in a peculiar mood at the instant you

cut that cord, and he had not labored under the fear of my presence, he

would have raised a gang of his stamp, and with the circumstance of your

being a stranger, the only alternative for your safety would have been

in your leaving the city.”

“That vagabond has beaten the poor creature so that he will die; it

can't be otherwise,” said the Captain.

“Well, no; I think not, if he is well taken care of for a week or so;

but it's a chance if that brute gives him a week to get well. When

proud-flesh sets in, it is very tedious; that is the reason, so far

as the law is concerned, that the lash was abolished and the paddle

substituted--the former mangled in the manner you saw just now, while

the latter is more acute and bruises less. I have seen a nigger taken

from the paddle-frame apparently motionless and lifeless, very little

bruised, and not much blood drawn; but he would come to and go to work

in three or four days,” said the colonel as they passed along together.

We would print the name of this brute in human form, that the world

might read it, were it not for an amiable wife and interesting family,

whose feelings we respect. We heard the cause of this cruel torture a

short time after, which was simply that he had stolen a few pounds

of nails, and this fomented the demon's rage. In the manner we have

described, this ferocious creature had kept his victim for more than two

hours, beating him with the knotty hoops taken from lime-casks. His rage

would move at intervals, like gusts of wind during a gale. Thus, while

his feelings raged highest, he would vent them upon the flesh of the

poor pinioned wretch; then he would stop, rest his arm, and pace the

ground from wall to wall, and as soon as his passion stormed, commence

again and strike the blows with all his power, at the same time keeping

the black boy standing with a bucket of water in his hand ready to pour

upon the wretch whenever signs of fainting appeared. Several times, when

the copious shower came over him, it filled his mouth, so that his cries

resounded with a gurgling, death-like noise, that made every sensation

chill to hear it. During this space of time, he inflicted more than

three hundred blows. Our information is from the man who did his

master's bidding--poured the water--and dared not say, “Good massa,

spare poor Jacob.” We visited the place about a month afterward, on

a pretext of examining the basement of the building, and saw the

unmistakable evidences of civilized torture yet remaining in the ground

and upon the shavings that were scattered around.

“Captain, you must not judge the institution of slavery by what you

saw there; that is only one of those isolated cases so injurious in

themselves, but for which the general character of the institution

should not be held answerable,” said the colonel.

“A system so imperfect should be revised, lest innocent men be made to

suffer its wrongs,” said the Captain.

They continued their walk through several very pretty parts of the city,

where fine flowering gardens and well-trimmed hedges were nicely laid

out; these, however, were not the habitations of the “old families.”

They occupied parts of the city designated by massive-looking old

mansions, exhibiting an antiqueness and mixed architecture, with

dilapidated court-yards and weather-stained walls, showing how steadfast

was the work of decay.

The colonel pointed out the many military advantages of the city, which

would be used against Uncle Sam if he meddled with South Carolina. He

spoke of them ironically, for he was not possessed of the secession

monomania. He had been a personal friend of Mr. Calhoun, and knew his

abstractions. He knew Mr. McDuffie; Hamilton, (the transcendant, of

South Carolina fame;) Butler, of good component parts-eloquent, but

moved by fancied wrongs; Rhett, renouncer of that vulgar name of Smith,

who hated man because he spoke, yet would not fight because he feared

his God; and betwixt them, a host of worthies who made revenge a motto;

and last, but not least, great Quattlebum, whose strength and

spirit knows no bound, and brought the champion Commander, with his

enthusiastic devotion, to lead unfaltering forlorn hopes. But he knew

there was deception in the political dealings of this circle of great

names.

Returning to the market, they took a social glass at Baker's, where the

colonel took leave of the Captain; and the latter, intending to repair

to his vessel, followed the course of the market almost to its lowest

extreme. In one of the most public places of the market, the Captain's

attention was attracted by a singular object of mechanism. It seemed

so undefined in its application, that he was reminded of the old saying

among sailors when they fall in with any indescribable thing at sea,

that it was a “fidge-fadge, to pry the sun up with in cloudy weather.”

It was a large pedestal about six feet high, with a sort of platform at

the base for persons to stand upon, supplied with two heavy rings about

eight inches apart. It was surmounted by an apex, containing an iron

shackle long enough for a sloop-of-war's best bower chain, and just,

beneath it was a nicely-turned moulding. About three feet from the

ground, and twelve inches from the pedestal, were two pieces of timber

one above the other, with a space of some ten inches between them, the

upper one set about five inches nearest the pedestal, also containing

two rings, and both supported by posts in the ground. Above the whole

was a framework, with two projecting timbers supplied with rings, and

standing about fourteen inches in a diagonal direction above the big

ring in the apex of the shaft. It was altogether a curious instrument,

but it designated the civilization of the age, upon the same principle

that a certain voyager who, on landing in a distant country, discovered

traces of civilization in the decaying remains of an old gallows.

He viewed the curious instrument for some time, and then turning to an

old ragged negro, whose head and beard were whitened with the flour of

age, said, “Well, old man, what do you call that?”

“Why, massa, him great t'ing dat-what big old massa judge send

buckra-man to get whip, so color foke laugh when 'e ketch 'im on de

back, ca' bim; an' massa wid de cock-up hat on 'e head put on big vip

jus' so,” said the old negro.

It was the whipping-post, where white men, for small thefts, were

branded with ignominy and shame.

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

The old man turned his head aside and pulled his ragged garments, as if

shame had stung his feelings.

“Do, good massa-old Simon know ye don'e belong here-give him piece of

'bacca,” replied the hoary-headed veteran evidently intending to evade

the question. The Captain divided his “plug” with him, and gave him a

quarter to get more, but not to buy whiskey. “Tank-e, massa, tank-e; he

gone wid ole Simon long time.”

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

“Ah! massa, ye don'e know him how he is, ah ha! ha! I done gone now.

Massa Pringle own 'im once, but 'im so old now, nobody say I own 'im,

an' ole Simon a'n't no massa what say I his fo' bacon. I don't woff

nofin' nohow now, 'cos I ole. When Simon young-great time 'go-den massa

say Simon his; woff touzan' dollars; den me do eve' ting fo' massa just

so. I prime nigga den, massa; now I woff nosin', no corn and bacon 'cept

what 'im git from Suke-e. She free; good massa make her free,” said he.

“How old are you, old man?” inquired the Captain.

“Ah, Massa Stranger, ye got ole Simon da! If me know dat, den 'im

know somefin' long time ago, what buckra-man don' larn. I con'try-born

nigger, massa, but I know yonder Massa Pringle house fo' he built 'im.”

Just at this moment several pieces of cannon and other ordnance were

being drawn past on long, low-wheeled drays. “Ah, massa, ye don'e know

what 'em be,” said the old negro, pointing to them. “Dem wa' Massa South

Ca'lina gwan to whip de 'Nited States wid Massa Goberna' order 'em last

year, an 'e jus' come. Good masse gwan' to fight fo' we wid 'em.” The

poor old man seemed to take a great interest in the pieces of ordnance

as they passed along, and to have inherited all the pompous ideas of

his master. The negroes about Charleston have a natural inclination for

military tactics, and hundreds of ragged urchins, as well as old daddies

and mammies, may be seen following the fife and drum on parade days.

“Then I suppose you've a home anywhere, and a master nowhere, old man?”

said the Captain, shaking him by the hand, as one who had worn out his

slavery to be disowned in the winter of life.

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

THE Captain of the Janson, finding that no dependence was to be placed

upon the statements of the officials, after returning to his vessel,

gave orders that Tommy should be sent to the jail every day with

provisions for Manuel. The task was a desirable one for Tommy, and

every day about ten o'clock he might be seen trudging to the jail with a

haversack under his arm. There were five stewards confined in the cell,

and for some days previous to this attention on the part of the Captain

they had been reduced to the last stage of necessity. The quantity may

be considered as meagre when divided among so many, but added to the

little things brought in by Jane, and presents from several of the crew

of the Janson, they got along. Still it was a dependence upon chance and

charity, which any casual circumstance might affect. For several days

they made themselves as contented and happy as the circumstances would

admit; and always being anxious to enjoy the privilege of their time

in the yard, they would leave their cell together, and mix with the

prisoners of their own color under the stoop.

After a few days, they found that their cell had been entered, and

nearly all their provisions stolen. Not contented with this, the act was

repeated for several days, and all the means they provided to detect the

thief proved fruitless. The jailer made several searches through

their remonstrances, but without effecting any thing. They kept their

provisions in a little box, which they locked with a padlock; but as

Daley had the keys of the cell, they had no means of locking the door.

At length Manuel set a trap that proved effectual. One morning Tommy

came puffing into the jail with a satchel over his back. “I guess Manuel

won't feel downhearted when he sees this--do you think he will?” said

the little fellow, as he put the satchel upon the floor and looked up

at the jailer. “An' I've got some cigars, too, the Captain sent, in

my pocket,” said he, nodding his head; and putting his hand into a

side-pocket, pulled out one and handed it to the jailer.

“Ah! you are a good little fellow-worth a dozen of our boys. Sit down

and rest yourself,” said the jailer, and called a monstrous negro wench

to bring a chair and take the satchel up to the cell. Then turning

to the back-door, he called Manuel; and, as if conscious of Tommy's

arrival, the rest of the stewards followed. He sprang from the chair

as soon as he saw Manuel, and running toward him, commenced telling him

what he had got in the satchel and at the same time pulled out a handful

of segars that the Captain had sent for himself. Manuel led the way

up-stairs, followed by Tommy and the train of stewards. Tommy opened the

satchel, while Manuel laid the contents, one by one, on the table which

necessity had found in the head of a barrel.

“Now eat, my friends, eat just as much as you want, and then I'll catch

the thief that breaks my lock and steals my meat. I catch him,” said

Manuel. After they had all done, he locked the balance up in his box,

and sent everybody down-stairs into the yard, first covering himself

with two mattrasses, and giving orders to Copeland to lock the door

after him. Every thing was ready to move at the word. In this position

he remained for nearly half an hour. At length he heard a footstep

approach the door, and then the lock clink. The door opened slowly, and

the veritable Mr. Daley limped in, and taking a key from his pocket,

unlocked the little box, and filling his tin pan, locked it, and was

walking off as independent as a wood-sawyer, making a slight whistle to

a watch that was stationed at the end of the passage. “It's you, is it?”

said Manuel, suddenly springing up and giving him a blow on the side of

the head that sent him and the contents of the pan into a promiscuous

pile on the floor. Daley gathered himself up and made an attempt to

reach the door, but Manuel, fearing what might be the consequence if

the other prisoners came to his assistance, shut the door before him and

fastened it on the inside.

“Bad luck to yer infernal eyes, will ye strike a white man, ye nager ye,

in a country like this same?” said Daley, as he was gathering himself

up. This incensed Manuel's feelings still more. To have insult added to

injury, and a worthless drunkard and thief abuse him, was more than he

could bear. He commenced according to a sailor's rule of science, and

gave Daley a systematic threshing, which, although against the rules of

the jail, was declared by several of the prisoners to be no more than

he had long deserved. As may have been expected, Daley cried lustily for

help, adding the very convenient item of murder, to make his case more

alarming. Several persons had crowded around the door, but none could

gain admittance. The jailer had no sooner reached the door, than (most

unfortunately for Manuel) he was called back to the outer door, to admit

Mr. Grimshaw, who had just rung the bell. The moment he entered, Daley's

noise was loudest, and reached his ears before he had gained the outside

gate. He rushed up-stairs, followed by the jailer, and demanded entrance

at the cell door, swearing at the top of his voice that he would break

it in with an axe if the command was not instantly obeyed.

The door opened, and Manuel stood with his left hand extended at Daley.

“Come in, gentlemen, I catch him, one rascal, what steal my provision

every day, and I punish him, what he remember when I leave.”

Daley stood trembling against the wall, bearing the marks of serious

injury upon his face and eyes. “At it again, Daley? Ah! I thought you

had left off them tricks!” said the jailer.

Daley began to tell a three-cornered story, and to give as many possible

excuses, with equally as many characteristic bulls in them. “I don't

want to hear your story, Daley,” said Mr. Grimshaw. “But, Mr. Jailer, I

command you to lock that man up in the third story,” pointing to Manuel.

“I don't care what the circumstances are. He's given us more trouble

than he's worth. He tried to pass himself off for a white man, but he

couldn't come that, and now he's had the impudence to strike a white

man; lock him up! lock him up!! and keep him locked up until further

orders from me. I'll teach him a lesson that he never learnt before he

came to South Carolina; and then let Consul Mathew sweat over him, and

raise another fuss if he can.”