“If he's guilty of violating the rules of the jail, Daley is guilty of

misdemeanour, and the thieving has been aggravatingly continued. If we

put one, we must put both up,” said the jailer.

“Just obey my orders, Mr. Jailer. I will reprimand Daley to-morrow. I

shall just go to the extent of the law with that feller,” said Grimshaw

peremptorily.

“You may lock me up in a dungeon, do with me as you will, if the power

is yours; but my feelings are my own, and you cannot crush them. I look

to my consul, and the country that has protected me around the world,

and can protect me still,” said Manuel, resigning himself to the jailer,

whose intentions he knew to be good.

Poor little Tommy stood begging and crying for his friend and companion,

for he heard Mr. Grimshaw give an imperative order to the jailer not

to allow visitors into his cell. “Never mind, Tommy, we shall soon meet

again, and sail companions for the old owners. Don't cry; the jailer

will let you see me to-morrow,” said Manuel.

“No, I can't do that; you heard my orders; I must obey them. I should

like to do it, but it's out of my power,” returned the jailer, awaiting

with a bunch of keys in his hand.

Manuel turned to the little fellow, and kissing him as he would an

affectionate child, bade him adieu, and ascended, the steps leading to

the third story (Mount Rascal) in advance of the jailer, to be confined

in a dark, unhealthy cell, there to await the caprice of one man.

To describe this miserable hole would be a task too harrowing to

our feelings. We pass it for those who will come after us. He little

thought, when he shook the hand of his little companion, that it was the

last time he should meet him for many months, and then only to take a

last parting look, under the most painful circumstances. But such is the

course of life!

Copeland had received notice to hold himself in readiness, as his vessel

would be ready for sea the next morning. He was not long in getting his

few things in order, and when morning came he was on hand, prepared to

bound from the iron confines of the Charleston jail, like a stag from a

thicket. As he bade good-by to his fellow-prisoners in the morning,

he said, “This is my last imprisonment in Charleston. I have been

imprisoned in Savannah, but there I had plenty to eat, comfortable

apartments, and every thing I asked for, except my liberty. Never, so

long as I sail the water, shall I ship for such a port as this again.”

He requested to see Manuel, but being refused, upon the restraint of

orders, he left the jail. It was contrary to law; and thus in pursuing

his vocation within the limits of South-Carolina, his owners were

made to pay the following sum, for which neither they nor the man who

suffered the imprisonment received any compensation. “Contrary to Law.”

Schooner “Oscar Jones,” Captain Kelly, For William H. Copeland, Colored

Seaman. To Sheriff of Charleston District. 1852,

To Arrest, $2; Registry, $2, $4.00 To Recog. $1.31; Constable, $1, 2.31

To Commitment and Discharge, 1.00 To 15 Days' Jail Maintenance of Wm. H.

Copeland, at 80 cts. per day, 4.50 Received payment, $11.81 J. D--, Per

Charles E. Kanapeaux, Clerk.

God save the sovereignty of South Carolina, and let her mercy and

hospitality be known on earth!

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

IN order to complete the four characters, as we designed in the outset,

we must here introduce the persons whose names fill the caption. The

time of their imprisonment was some two months later than Manuel's

release; but we introduce them here for the purpose of furnishing a

clear understanding of the scenes connected with Manuel's release.

John Paul was a fine-looking French negro, very dark, with

well-developed features, and very intelligent,--what would be called in

South Carolina, “a very prime feller.” He was steward on board of the

French bark Senegal, Captain--. He spoke excellent French and Spanish,

and read Latin very well,--was a Catholic, and paid particular respect

to devotional exercises,--but unfortunately he could not speak or

understand a word of English. In all our observation of different

characters of colored men, we do not remember to have seen one whose

pleasant manner, intelligence, and civility, attracted more general

attention. But he could not comprehend the meaning of the law

imprisoning a peaceable man without crime, and why the authorities

should fear him, when he could not speak their language. He wanted to

see the city-what sort of people were in it-if they bore any analogy to

their good old forefathers in France; and whether they had inherited the

same capricious feelings as the descendants of the same generation

on the other side of the water. There could be no harm in that; and

although he knew something of French socialism, he was ignorant of

Carolina's peculiar institutions, her politics, and her fears of

abolition, as a “Georgia cracker”

A sort of semi-civilized native, wearing a peculiar homespun dress; with

a native dialect strongly resembling many of the Yorkshire phrases. They

are generally found located in the poorer parishes and districts, where

their primitive-looking cabins are easily designated from that of the

more enterprising agriculturist. But few of them can read or write,--and

preferring the coarsest mode of life, their habits are extremely

dissolute. Now and then one may be found owning a negro or two,--but

a negro would rather be sold to the torments of hell, or a Louisiana

sugar-planter, than to a Georgia cracker. You will see them approaching

the city on market-days, with their travelling-cart, which is a

curiosity in itself. It is a two-wheeled vehicle of the most primitive

description, with long, rough poles for shafts or thills. Sometimes it

is covered with a blanket, and sometimes with a white rag, under which

are a few things for market, and the good wife, with sometimes one

or two wee-yans; for the liege lord never fails to bring his wife to

market, that she may see the things of the city. The dejected-looking

frame of some scrub-breed horse or a half-starved mule is tied (for we

can't call it harnessed) between the thills, with a few pieces of rope

and withes; and, provided with a piece of wool-tanned sheep-skin, the

lord of the family, with peculiar dress, a drab slouched hat over his

eyes, and a big whip in his hand, mounts on the back of the poor animal,

and placing his feet upon the thills to keep them down, tortures it

through a heavy, sandy road. The horses are loaded so much beyond their

strength, that they will stop to blow, every ten or fifteen minutes,

while the man will sit upon their backs with perfect unconcern.

Remonstrate with them in regard to the sufficient draught added to

the insupportable weight upon their backs, and they will immediately

commence demonstrating how he can draw easier when there is an immense

weight upon his back. The husband generally exchanges his things for

whiskey, rice, and tobacco, while the wife buys calico and knick-knacks.

Sometimes they get “a right smart chance o' things” together, and have a

“party at home,” which means a blow-out among themselves. Sometimes they

have a shucking, which is a great affair, even among the little farmers

in Upper Georgia, where, only, corn-shuckings are kept up with all the

spice of old custom, and invitations are extended to those at a distance

of ten or fifteen miles, who repay the compliment with their presence,

and join in the revelry. There are two classes of the cracker in

Georgia, according to our observation, differing somewhat in their

dialect, but not in their habits. One is the upper, and the other the

low country, or rather what some call the “co-u-n-try-b-o-r-n” cracker.

The up-country cracker gives more attention to farming, inhabits what's

known as the Cherokee country and its vicinity, and is designated by the

sobriquet of “wire-grass man.” would be of Greek. Like his predecessors

in confinement, he fell into the hands of the veritable Dunn, without

the assistance of his friend Duse, as he called him; but had it not been

for the timely appearance of a clerk in the French consul's office, who

explained the nature of the arrest, in his native tongue, Mr. Dunn would

have found some trouble in making the arrest. Already had the officers

and crew of the bark gathered around him, making grimaces, and gibbering

away like a flock of blackbirds surrounding a hawk, and just ready to

pounce. “Don't I'se be tellin' yees what I wants wid 'im, and the divil

a bit ye'll understand me. Why don't yees spake so a body can understand

what yees be blatherin' about. Sure, here's the paper, an' yees won't

read the English of it. The divil o' such a fix I was ever in before wid

yer John o' crapue's an' yer chatter. Ye say we-we-we; sure it's but one

I wants. Ah! whist now, captain, and don't ye be makin' a bother over

it. Shure, did ye niver hear o' South Carolina in the wide world? An'

ye bees travellin' all over it, and herself's such a great State, wid so

many great gintlemen in it,” said Dunn, talking his green-island Greek

to the Frenchman.

“We, we! mon Dieu, ah!” said the Frenchman.

“Ah, shure there ye are again. What would I be doin' wid de 'hole o'

yees? It's the nager I want. Don't ye know that South Carolina don't

allow the likes o' him to be comin ashore and playing the divil wid her

slaves,” continued Dunn, stretching himself up on his lame leg.

The clerk stepped up at this moment. “It's 'imself'll be telling yes all

about it, for yer like a parcel of geese makin' a fuss about a goslin.”

Mr. Dunn had got his Corkonian blood up; and although the matter was

explained, he saw the means at hand, and fixed his feelings for a stiff

compensation. The clerk, after explaining to the captain, turned to John

Paul and addressed him. As soon as he was done, John commenced to pack

up his dunnage and get money from the captain, as if he was bound on

an Arctic Expedition. Dunn's eyes glistened as he saw the money passing

into Paul's hand; but he was not to be troubled with the dunnage, and

after hurrying him a few times, marched him off. He went through the

regular system of grog-shop sponging; but his suavity and willingness to

acquiesce in all Mr. Dunn's demands, saved him some rough usage. There

was this difference between John Paul and Manuel, that the former,

not understanding the English language, mistook Dunn's deception for

friendship, and moved by that extreme French politeness and warmth of

feeling, which he thought doing the gentleman par excellence; while the

latter, with a quicker perception of right and wrong, and understanding

our language, saw the motive and disdained its nefarious object. For

when Paul arrived at the jail he was minus a five-dollar gold-piece,

which his very amiable official companion took particular care of, lest

something should befall it. Poor John Paul! He was as harmless as South

Carolina's secession and chivalry-two of the most harmless things in the

world, not excepting Congressional duelling.

As soon as he entered the jail and found that the jailer could speak

French, he broke out in a perfect tornado of enthusiasm. “Je serai

charm‚ de lier connaissance avec un si amiable compagnon,” said he,

and continued in a strain so swift and unabated that it would have been

impossible for an Englishman to have traced the inflections.

The jailer called Daley, and telling him to take his blanket, the

State's allotment, ordered him shown to his cell. Daley took the blanket

under his arm and the keys in his hand, and Paul soon followed him

upstairs to be introduced to his cell. “There, that's the place for

yees. We takes the shine off all ye dandy niggers whin we gets ye here.

Do ye see the pair of eyes in the head o' me?” said Daley, pointing to

his blackened eyes; “an' he that done that same is in the divil's own

place above. Now, if ye have ever a drap of whiskey, don't be keepin' it

shy, an' it'll be tellin' ye a good many favors.”

“Ah! mon Dieu! Cela fait dresser les cheveux la tete,” said Paul,

shrugging his shoulders.

“Bad luck to the word of that I'd be understandin' at all, at all. Can't

ye spake so a body'd understand what ye'd mane?”

“C'est ma grande consolation d'avoir. * * * Les Etats-Unis est une

mod‚le de perfection republicaine,” said he, taking the blanket from

Daley and throwing it upon the floor. He was but a poor companion for

his fellow-prisoners, being deprived of the means to exercise his social

qualities. He went through the same course of suffering that Manuel did;

but, whether from inclination or necessity, bore it with more Christian

fortitude, chanting vespers every morning, and reading the Latin service

every evening. The lesson which Manuel taught Daley proved of great

service to Paul, who gave Daley the jail-ration which it was impossible

for him to eat, and was saved from his pilfering propensities. Thus,

after John Paul had suffered thirty-five days' imprisonment, in mute

confinement, to satisfy the majesty of South Carolina, he was released

upon the following conditions, and taken to his vessel at early

daylight, lest he should see the city or leave something to contaminate

the slaves. “Contrary to law.” State vs. “Contrary to law.” French bark

“Senegal,” Capt.--For John Paul, Colored Seaman. To Sheriff Charleston

Dist.

July 18, 1852. To Arrest, $2; Registry, $2, $4.00” “Recog. $1.31;

Constable, $1, 2.31” “Commitment and discharge, 1.00” “35 Days'

Maintenace of John Paul, at 30 cents per day, 10.50

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

A very nice item of disbursements to present to the owners-a premium

paid for the advanced civilization of South Carolina!

We have merely noticed the imprisonment of John Paul, our limits

excluding the details. We must now turn to a little, pert, saucy French

boy, eleven years old, who spoke nothing but Creole French, and that

as rotten as we ever heard lisped. The French bark Nouvelle Amelie,

Gilliet, master, from Rouen, arrived in Charleston on the twenty-ninth

of July. The captain was a fine specimen of a French gentleman. He

stood upon the quarter-deck as she was being “breasted-in” to the wharf,

giving orders to his men, while the little child stood at the galley

looking at the people upon the wharf, making grimaces and pointing one

of the crew to several things that attracted his attention. Presently

the vessel hauled alongside of the dock, and Dusenberry, with his

companion Dunn, who had been watching all the movements of the vessel

from a hiding-place on the wharf, sprang out and boarded her ere she had

touched the piles.

The “nigger,” seeing Dusenberry approach him, waited until he saw his

hand extended, and then, as if to save himself from impending danger,

ran aft and into the cabin, screaming at the top of his voice. The crew

began to run and move up into close quarters. The issue was an important

one, and rested between South Carolina and the little “nigger.”

Dusenberry attempted to descend into the cabin. “Vat you vant wid my

John, my Baptiste? No, you no do dat, 'z my cabin; never allow stranger

go down 'im,” said the captain, placing himself in the companionway,

while the little terrified nigger peeped above the combing, and rolled

his large eyes, the white glowing in contrast, from behind the captain's

legs. In this tempting position the little darkie, knowing he was

protected by the captain and crew, would taunt the representative of the

State with his bad French. Dunn stood some distance behind Dusenberry,

upon the deck, and the mission seemed to be such a mystery to both

captain and crew, that their presence aroused a feeling of curiosity as

well as anxiety. Several of the sailors gathered around him, and made

antic grimaces, pointing their fingers at him and swearing, so that

Dunn began to be alarmed by the incomprehensible earnestness of their

gibberish, turned pale, and retreated several steps, to the infinite

amusement of those upon the wharf.

“Vat 'e do, ah, you vant 'im? Vat you do vid 'im ven zu gets him, ah?

Cette affaire delicate demande,” said one of the number, who was honored

with the title of mate, and who, with a terrific black moustache and

beard, had the power of contorting his face into the most repugnant

grimaces. And, at the moment, he drew his sheath-knife and made a

pretended plunge at Dunn's breast, causing him to send forth a pitiful

yell, and retreat to the wharf with quicker movements than he ever

thought himself capable of.

“Il n'y a pas grand mal cela,” said the Frenchman, laughing at Dunn as

he stood upon the capsill of the wharf.

“Bad luck to ye, a pretty mess a murderous Frinchmin that ye are. Do

yees be thinkin' ye'd play that trick in South Carolina? Ye'll get the

like o' that taken out o' ye whin yer before his honor in the mornin',”

said Dunn.

Dusenberry had stood parleying with the captain at the companion-door,

endeavoring to make the latter understand that it was not a case which

required the presence of the silver oar. There is a prevailing opinion

among sailors, that no suit in Admiralty can be commenced, or seaman

arrested while on board, without the presence of the silver oar. And

thus acting upon this impression, the captain and officers of the

Nouvelle Amelie contended for what they considered a right. The mate and

crew drew closer and closer toward Dusenberry, until he became infected

with the prevailing alarm. “Captain, I demand your protection from these

men, in the name of the State of South Carolina,” said he.

“Who he? De State Souf Ca'lina, vat I know 'bout him, ah? Bring de

silver oar when come take my man. Il y a de la malhomme tet‚ dans sou

proces,” said Captain Gilliet, turning to his mate.

“Avaunt! avaunt!” said the big man with the large whiskers, and they all

made a rush at Dusenberry, and drove him over the rail and back to the

wharf, where he demanded the assistance of those anxious spectators, for

and in the name of the State. It was a right good vaudeville comique,

played in dialogue and pantomime. The point of the piece, which, with a

little arrangement, might have made an excellent production, consisted

of a misunderstanding between an Irishman and a Frenchman about South

Carolina, and a law so peculiar that no stranger could comprehend its

meaning at first and as neither could understand the language of the

other, the more they explained the more confounded the object became,

until, from piquant comique, the scene was worked into the appearance of

a tragedy. One represented his ship, and to him his ship was his nation;

the other represented South Carolina, and to him South Carolina was the

United States; and the question was, which had the best right to the

little darkie.

The spectators on the wharf were not inclined to move, either not

wishing to meddle themselves with South Carolina's affairs-wanting

larger game to show their bravery-or some more respectable officer

to act in command. The little darkie, seeing Dusenberry driven to the

wharf, ran to the gangway, and protruding his head over the rail, worked

his black phiz into a dozen pert expressions, showing his ivory,

rolling the white of his eyes, and crooking his finger upon his nose in

aggravating contempt.

“Shure, we'll turn the guard out and take ye an' yer ship, anyhow. Why

don't yees give the nager up dasently, an' don't be botherin'. An'

isn't it the law of South Carolina, be dad; an' be the mortis, ye'd be

getting' no small dale of a pinalty for the same yer doin',” said Dunn.

A gentleman, who had been a silent looker-on, thinking it no more than

proper to proffer his mediation, perceiving where the difficulty lay,

stepped on board and introducing himself to the captain, addressed him

in French, and explained the nature of the proceeding. The captain shook

his head for some time, and shrugged his shoulders. “La police y est

bien administree,” said he, with an air of politeness; and speaking to

his mate, that officer again spoke to the men, and Dusenberry was told

by the gentleman that he could come on board. Without further ceremony,

he mounted the rail and made a second attempt at the young urchin,

who screamed and ran into the cook's galley, amid the applause of the

seamen, who made all sorts of shouts inciting him to run, crying out,

“Run, Baptiste! run, Baptiste!” In this manner the little darkie kept

the officer at bay for more than fifteen minutes, passing out of one

door as the officer entered the other, to the infinite delight of the

crew. At length his patience became wearied, and as he was about to call

Dunn to his assistance, the captain came up, and calling the child to

him-for such he was-delivered him up, the little fellow roaring at the

top of his voice as the big officer carried him over the rail under

his arm. This ended the vaudeville comique on board of the French bark

Nouvelle Amelie, Captain Gilliet.

The dignity of the State was triumphant, and the diminutive nigger was

borne off under the arm of its representative. What a beautiful theme

for the painter's imagination! And how mutely sublime would have been

the picture if the pencil of a Hogarth could have touched it. The

majesty of South Carolina carrying a child into captivity!

After carrying John Baptiste about halfway up the wharf, they put him

down, and made him “trot it” until they reached the Dutch grog-shop

we have described in the scene with Manuel. Here they halted to take a

“stiff'ner,” while Baptiste was ordered to sit down upon a bench, Dunn

taking him by the collar and giving him a hearty shake, which made the

lad bellow right lustily. “Shut up, ye whelp of a nigger, or ye'll get a

doz for yeer tricks beyant in the ship,” said Dunn; and after remaining

nearly an hour, arguing politics and drinking toddies, Mr. Dunn got very

amiably fuddled, and was for having a good-natured quarrel with every

customer that came; into the shop. He laboured under a spirit-inspired

opinion that they must treat or fight; and accordingly would attempt to

reduce his opinions to practical demonstrations. At length the Dutchman

made a courteous remonstrance, but no sooner had he done it, than Dunn

drew his hickory stick across the Dutchman's head, and levelled him upon

the floor. The Dutchman was a double-fisted fellow, and springing up

almost instantly, returned the compliment. Dusenberry was more sober,

and stepped in to make a reconciliation; but before he had time to exert

himself, the Dutchman running behind the counter, Dunn aimed another

blow at him, which glanced from his arm and swept a tin drench, with

a number of tumblers on it, into a smash upon the floor. This was the

signal for a general melee, and it began in right earnest between the

Dutch and the Irish,--for the Dutchman called the assistance of several

kinsmen who were in the front store, and Dunn, with the assistance of

Dusenberry, mustered recruits from among a number of his cronies, who

were standing at a corner on the opposite side, of the street. Both came

to the rescue, but the O'Nales and Finnegans outnumbering the Dutch,

made a Donnybrook onset, disarming and routing their adversaries, and

capsizing barrels, boxes, kegs, decanters, and baskets of onions, into

one general chaos,--taking possession of the Dutchman's calabash, and

proclaiming their victory with triumphant shouts.

They had handcuffed the boy Baptiste as soon as they entered the store,

and in the midst of the conflict he escaped without being observed, and

ran for his vessel, handcuffed, and crying at the top of his voice. He

reached the Nouvelle Amelie, to the consummate surprise of the officers

and crew, and the alarm of pedestrians as he passed along the street.

“Mon Dieu!” said the mate, and taking the little fellow to the

windlass-bits, succeeded in severing the handcuffs with a cold-chisel,

and sent him down into the forecastle to secrete himself.

When Dunn's wild Irish had subsided, Dusenberry began to reason with him

upon the nature of the affair, and the matter was reconciled upon the

obligations that had previously existed, and a promise to report no

violations of the ordinances during a specified time. Looking around,

Dunn exclaimed, “Bad manners till ye, Swizer, what a' ye done with the

little nager? Where did ye put him?--Be dad, Duse, he's gone beyant!”

An ineffectual search was made among barrels and boxes, and up the old

chimney. “Did ye see him?” inquired Dunn, of a yellow man that had been

watching the affray at the door, while Dusenberry continued to poke with

his stick among the boxes and barrels.

“Why, massa, I sees him when he lef de doo, but I no watch him 'till 'e

done gone,” said the man.

Dunn was despatched to the vessel in search, but every thing there was

serious wonderment, and carried out with such French naviete, that his

suspicions were disarmed, and he returned with perfect confidence that

he was not there. A search was now made in all the negro-houses in the

neighborhood; but kicks, cuts, and other abuses failed to elicit

any information of his whereabouts. At length Dunn began to feel the

deadening effects of the liquor, and was so muddled that he could not

stand up; then, taking possession of a bed in one of the houses,

he stretched himself upon it in superlative contempt of every thing

official, and almost simultaneously fell into a profound sleep. In this

manner he received the attention of the poor colored woman whose bed

he occupied, and whom he had abused in searching for the boy. In this

predicament, Dusenberry continued to search alone, and kept it up until

sundown, when he was constrained to report the case to the sheriff,

who suspended Mr. Dunn for a few days. The matter rested until the next

morning, when the case of the little saucy nigger vs. South Carolina was

renewed with fresh vigor. Then Mr. Grimshaw, accompanied by Dusenberry,

proceeded to the barque, and there saw the boy busily engaged in the

galley. Mr. Grimshaw went on board, followed by Duse, and approaching

the cabin door, met the captain ascending the stairs. “Captain, I

want that nigger boy of yourn, and you may just as well give him up

peaceably,” said he.

“Yes, monsieur,--but you no treat 'im like child wen you get 'im,”

said the captain. Retiring to the cabin, and bringing back the broken

manacles in his hand, he held them up to Mr. Grimshaw, “You put such dem

thing on child like 'im, in South Carolina, ah? What you tink 'im be,

young nigger, ox, horse, bull, ah! what? Now you take'e him! treat him

like man, den we no 'struct to laws wat South Carolina got,” continued

he.

Mr. Grimshaw thanked the captain, but made no reply about the manacles;

taking them in his hand, and handing the boy over into the charge of

Dusenberry. In a few minutes he was ushered into the sheriff's office,

and the important points of his dimensions and features noted

in accordance with the law. We are not advised whether the pert

characteristics of his nature were emblazoned,--if they were, the record

would describe a singular specimen of a frightened French darkie, more

amusing than judicial. But John Baptiste Pamerlie passed the ordeal,

muttering some rotten Creole, which none of the officials could

understand, and was marched off to the jail, where the jailer acted as

his interpreter. Being so small, he was allowed more latitude to ware

and haul than the others, while his peculiar bon point and pert

chatter afforded a fund of amusement for the prisoners, who made him a

particular butt, and kept up an incessant teasing to hear him jabber.

The second day of his imprisonment he received a loaf of bread in

the morning, and a pint of greasy water, misnamed soup. That was the

allowance when they did not take meat. He ran down-stairs with the pan

in hand, raising an amusing fuss, pointing at it, and spitting out his

Creole to the jailer. He was disputing the question of its being soup,

and his independent manner had attracted a number of the prisoners. Just

at the moment, the prison dog came fondling against his legs, and to

decide the question, quick as thought, he set the pan before him; and as

if acting upon an instinctive knowledge of the point at issue, the dog

put his nose to it, gave a significant scent, shook his head and walked

off, to the infinite delight of the prisoners, who sent forth a shout of

acclamation. Baptiste left his soup, and got a prisoner, who could speak

Creole, to send for his captain, who came on the next morning and

made arrangements to relieve his condition from the ship's stores. The

following day he whipped one of the jailer's boys in a fair fight; and

on the next he killed a duck, and on the fourth he cut a white prisoner.

Transgressing the rules of the jail in rejecting his soup-violating the

laws of South Carolina making it a heinous offence for a negro to strike

or insult a white person--committing murder on a duck--endeavoring to

get up a fandango among the yard niggers, and trying the qualities of

cold steel, in a prisoner's hand, thus exhibiting all the versatility

of a Frenchman's genius with a youthful sang-froid, he was considered

decidedly dangerous, and locked up for formal reform. Here he remained

until the seventeenth of August, when it was announced that the good

barque Nouvelle Amelie, Captain Gilliet, was ready for sea, and he

was forthwith led to the wharf between two officers, and ordered to

be transferred beyond the limits of the State, the Captain paying the

following nice little bill, of costs. “Contrary to Law.” “French

Barque Nouvelle Amelie, Captain Gilliet, from Rouen, For John Baptiste

Pamerlie, Colored Seaman. 1852. To Sheriff of Charleston District.

August 26th, To Arrest, $2; Registry, $2, $4.00”

“Recog. 1.31; Constable, $1, 2.31”

“Commitment and Discharge, 1.00”

“20 days' Jail Maintenance of John Baptiste Pamerlie, at 30 cts. per

day, $6.00

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

Clerk.”

Thus ended the scene. The little darkie might have said when he was in

jail, “Je meurs de faim, et l'on ne mapport‚ rien;” and when he left,

“Il est faufite avec les chevaliers d'industrie.”

CHAPTER XXIV. THE JANSON CONDEMNED.

WE must now return to Manuel. He was in close confinement, through Mr.

Grimshaw's orders. Tommy continued to bring him food from day to day,

but was not allowed to see him. The mate and several of the crew

were also refused admittance to him. This was carrying power to an

unnecessary limit, and inflicting a wanton punishment without proper

cause, at the same time exhibiting a flagrant disrespect for personal

feelings. Tommy did not report the affair to the Captain, lest it should

be misconstrued, and worse punishment be inflicted; but when the men

were refused, they naturally mistrusted something, and made inquiries

of the jailer, who readily gave them all the information in his power

concerning the affair, and his orders. This they reported to the

Captain, who immediately repaired to the consul's office, where he found

Mr. Mathew reading a note which he had just received from Manuel. It

stated his grievances in a clear and distinct manner, and begged the

protection of that government under whose flag he sailed, but said

nothing about his provisions. The consul, accompanied by the Captain,

proceeded to the sheriff's office, but could get no satisfaction. “I

never consider circumstances when prisoners violate the rules of the

jail,--he must await my orders! but I shall keep him closely confined

for two weeks, at least,” said Mr. Grimshaw.

This incensed the consul still more, for he saw the manner in which a

clique of officials were determined to show their arbitrary power. It

was impossible for him to remain indifferent to this matter, affecting,

as it did, the life and liberty of his fellow-countryman. He could

invoke no sympathy for the man, and the extent of punishment to which

he had been subjected was evidently excited by vindictive feelings. He

applied for a writ of habeas corpus,--but mark the result.

The Captain proceeded to the jail, and demanded to see his steward; the

jailer hesitating at first, at length granted his permission. He found

Manuel locked up in a little, unwholesome cell, with scarcely a glimmer

of light to mark the distinction of day and night; and so pale and

emaciated, that had he met him in the street he should scarcely have

recognised him. “Gracious God! What crime could have brought such an

excess of punishment upon you?” inquired the Captain.

Manuel told him the whole story; and, added to that, the things which

had been sent to him during the seven days he had been confined in that

manner, had seldom reached him. He had lost his good friend Jane, and

the many kind acts which she was wont to bestow upon him, and had been

compelled to live upon bread and water nearly the whole time, suffering

the most intense hunger. Upon inquiry, it was ascertained that the

few things sent to make him comfortable had been intrusted to Daley to

deliver, who appropriated nearly the whole of them to his own use, as a

sort of retaliatory measure for the castigation he received from Manuel.

He had not failed to carry him his pan of soup at twelve o'clock every

day, but made the “choice bits” serve his own digestion. The jailer

felt the pain of the neglect, and promised to arrange a safer process of

forwarding his things by attending to it himself, which he did with

all the attention in his power, when Manuel's condition became more

tolerable. The Captain told Manuel how his affairs stood-that he should

probably have to leave him in charge of the consul, but to keep up good

spirits; that he would leave him plenty of means, and as soon as his

release was effected, to make the best of his way to Scotland and join

the old owners. And thus he left him, with a heavy heart, for Manuel did

read in his countenance what he did not speak.

The Janson had been discharged, a survey held upon the cargo, protest

extended, and the whole sold for the benefit of whom it might concern.

Necessary surveys were likewise held upon the hull, and finding it so

old and strained as to be unworthy of repair, it was condemned and sold

for the benefit of the underwriters. Thus the register “de novo” was

given up to the consul, the men discharged, and paid off according to

the act of William IV., which provides that each man shall receive a

stipend to carry him to the port in Great Britain from which he shipped,

or the consul to provide passage for him, according to his inclination,

to proceed to a point where the voyage would be completed. The consul

adopted the best means in his power to make them all comfortable and

satisfied with their discharge. Their several register-tickets were

given up to them, and one by one left for his place of destination;

Tommy and the second mate only preferring to remain and seek some

new voyage. The old chief mate seemed to congratulate himself in the

condemnation of the unlucky Janson. He shipped on board an English ship,

laden with cotton and naval stores, and just ready for sea. When he

came on board to take a farewell of the Captain, he stood upon deck, and

looking up at the dismantled spars, said, “Skipper, a shadow may save

a body after all. I've always had a presentment that this unlucky old

thing would serve us a trick. I says to meself that night in the Gulf,

'Well, old craft, yer goin' to turn yer old ribs into a coffin, at

last,' but I'll praise the bridge that carries me safe over, because

I've an affection for the old thing after all, and can't part without

saying God bless her, for it's an honest death to die in debt to the

underwriters. I hope her old bones will rest in peace on terra-firma.

Good-by, Captain,--remember me to Manuel; and let us forget our troubles

in Charleston by keeping away from it.”

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

AS we have said, the second mate and little Tommy remained to seek

new voyages. Such was the fact with the second mate; but Tommy

had contracted a violent cold on the night he was locked up in the

guard-house, and had been a subject for the medicine-chest for some

time; and this, with his ardent attachment for Manuel, and hopes to

join him again as a sailing companion, was the chief inducement for his

remaining. The Captain gave them accommodations in the cabin so long as

he had possession of the ship, which afforded the means of saving their

money, of which Tommy had much need; for notwithstanding he received a

nice present from the consul, and another from the Captain, which, added

to the few dollars that were coming to him for wages, made him feel

purse-proud, though it was far from being adequate to sustain him any

length of time, or to protect him against any sudden adversity.

The Captain had not seen little George, the secessionist, since his

assurance that he would make every thing right with Mr. Grimshaw,

and have Manuel out in less than twenty-four hours. It was now the

fourteenth of April, and the signs of his getting out were not so good

as they were on the first day he was committed, for the vessel being

condemned, if the law was carried to the strictest literal construction,

Manuel would be tied up among the human things that are articles of

merchandise in South Carolina. He was passing from the wharf to the

consul's office about ten o'clock in the morning, when he was suddenly

surprised in the street by little George, who shook his hand as if he

had been an old friend just returned after a long absence. He made

all the apologies in the world for being called away suddenly, and

consequently, unable to render that attention to his business which his

feelings had prompted. Like all secessionists, George was very fiery and

transitory in his feelings. He expressed unmeasurable surprise when the

Captain told him the condition of his man in the old jail. “You don't

say that men are restricted like that in Charleston? Well, now, I never

was in that jail, but it's unsuited to the hospitality of our society,”

said he.

“Your prison groans with abuses, and yet your people never hear them,”

replied the Captain.

George seemed anxious to change the subject, and commenced giving the

Captain a description of his journey to the plantation, his hunting and

fishing, his enjoyments, and the fat, saucy, slick niggers, the fine

corn and bacon they had, and what they said about massa, ending with an

endless encomium of the “old man's” old whiskey, and how he ripened it

to give it smoothness and flavor. His description of the plantation and

the niggers was truly wonderful, tantalizing the Captain's imagination

with the beauties of a growing principality in itself. “We have just

got a new vessel added to our ships, and she sails for the Pedee this

afternoon. We got the right stripe of a captain, but we have made him

adopt conditions to be true to the secession party. As soon as I get

another man, we'll despatch her in grand style, and no mistake.”

The Captain thought of his second mate, and suggested him at once. “Just

the chap. My old man would like him, I know,” said George, and they

returned directly to the Janson, where they found the second mate

lashing his dunnage. The proposition was made and readily accepted.

Again the Captain parted with little George, leaving him to take the

mate to his father's office, while he pursued his business at the

consul's.

George led the mate into the office. “Here, father, here's a man to

go in our vessel,” said he. The old man looked upon him with a serene

importance, as if he was fettered with his own greatness.

“My shipping interests are becoming very extensive, my man; I own the

whole of four schooners, and a share in the greatest steamship afloat-I

mean screw-ship, the South Carolina--you've heard of her, I suppose?”

said the old man.

Jack stood up with his hat in his hand, thinking over what he meant by

big interests, and “reckoning he hadn't seen the establishment of them

ship-owners about Prince's Dock, what owned more ships apiece than there

were days in the month.”

“Now, my man,” continued the old man, “I'm mighty strict about my

discipline, for I want every man to do his duty for the interests of the

owners. But how many dollars do you want a month, my man?”

“Nothing less than four pounds starling; that's twenty dollars your

currency, if I reckon right,” said Jack, giving his hat a twirl upon the

floor.

“Wh-e-w! you belong to the independent sailors. You'll come down from

that afore you get a ship in this port. Why, I can get a good, prime

nigger feller sailor for eight dollars a month and his feed.”

Jack concluded not to sail in any of the old man's big ships, and said,

“Yes, I joined them a long time ago, and I ha'n't regretted it, neither;

wouldn't pull a bow-line a penny less. I don't like drogging, no-how.

Good morning, sir,” said he, putting on his hat and backing out of the

door.

“I wish you'd a' taken a chance with my father, old fellow; he'd a' made

you captain afore a year,” said George, as he was leaving the door.

“The like o' that don't signify. I've been skipper in the West Ingie

trade years ago. There isn't much difference between a nigger and

a schooner's captain,” said Jack, as he walked off to the Janson,

preparatory to taking lodgings ashore.

That afternoon about five o'clock, a loud noise was heard on board a

little schooner, of about sixty tons' register, that lay in a bend of

the wharf a few lengths ahead of the Janson. Captain Thompson and his

second mate were seated on a locker in the cabin, conversing upon the

prospects ahead, when the noise became so loud that they ran upon deck

to witness the scene.

George stood upon the capsill of the wharf, with mortification pictured

in his countenance. “Well, captain, you needn't make so much noise about

it; your conduct is decidedly ungentlemanly. If you don't wish to sail

in father's employ, leave like a gentleman,” said George, pulling up the

corners of his shirt-collar.

It was the great craft that George had distended upon, and the veritable

captain of the right stripe, who promised to toe the mark according to

secession principles, but made no stipulations for the nigger feed that

was the cause of the excitement. The captain, a Baltimore coaster, and

accustomed to good feed in his vessels at home, had been induced by a

large representations to take charge of the craft and run her in the

Pedee trade, bringing rice to Charleston. On being told the craft was

all ready for sea, he repaired on board, and, to his chagrin, found

two black men for a crew, and a most ungainly old wench, seven shades

blacker than Egyptian darkness, for a cook. This was imposition enough

to arouse his feelings, for but one of the men knew any thing about

a vessel; but on examining the stores, the reader may judge of his

feelings, if he have any idea of supplying a vessel in a Northern

port, when we tell him that all and singular the stores consisted of

a shoulder of rusty Western bacon, a half-bushel of rice, and a jug of

molasses; and this was to proceed the distance of a hundred miles, But

to add to the ridiculous farce of that South Carolina notion, when he

remonstrated with them, he was very indifferently told that it was what

they always provided for their work-people.

“Take your' little jebacca-boat and go to thunder with her,” said the

captain, commencing to pick up his duds.

“Why, captain, I lent you my gun, and we always expect our captains to

make fresh provision of game as you run up the river,” said George.

“Fresh provisions, the devil!” said the captain. “I've enough to do to

mind my duty, without hunting my living as I pursue my voyage, like

a hungry dog. We don't do business on your nigger-allowance system in

Maryland.” And here we leave him, getting one of the negroes to carry

his things back to his boarding-house.

A few days after the occurrence we have narrated above little Tommy,

somewhat recovered from his cold, shipped on board a little centre-board

schooner, called the Three Sisters, bound to the Edisto River for a

cargo of rice. The captain, a little, stubby man, rather good looking,

and well dressed, was making his maiden voyage as captain of a South

Carolina craft. He was “South Carolina born,” but, like many others of

his kind, had been forced to seek his advancement in a distant State,

through the influence of those formidable opinions which exiles the

genius of the poor in South Carolina. For ten years he had sailed out of

the port of Boston, had held the position of mate on two Indian voyages

under the well-known Captain Nott, and had sailed with Captain Albert

Brown, and received his recommendation, yet this was not enough to

qualify him for the nautical ideas of a pompous South Carolinian.

Tommy got his baggage on board, and before leaving, made another attempt

at the jail to see his friend Manuel. He presented himself to the

jailer, and told him how much he wanted to see his old friend before he

left. The jailer's orders were imperative. He was told if he came next

week he would see him; that he would then be released, and allowed to

occupy the cell on the second floor with the other stewards. Recognising

one of the stewards that had joined with them when they enjoyed their

social feelings around the festive barrel, he walked into the piazza to

meet him and bid him good-by. While he stood shaking hands with him, the

poor negro.

The name of this poor fellow was George Fairchild. After being sent

to the workhouse to receive twenty blows with the paddle when he was

scarcely able to stand, he was taken down from the frame and supported

to the jail, where he remained several weeks, fed at a cost of eighteen

cents a day. His crime was “going for whiskey at night,” and the third

offence; but there were a variety of pleadings in his favor. His master

worked his negroes to the very last tension of their strength, and

exposed their appetites to all sorts of temptation, especially those who

worked in the night-gang. His master flogged him once, while he was in

the jail, himself, giving him about forty stripes with a raw hide on the

bare back: not satisfying his feelings with this, he concluded to send

him to New Orleans. He had an affectionate wife and child, who were

forbidden to see him. His master ordered that he should be sent to the

workhouse and receive thirty-nine paddles before leaving, and on the

morning he was to be shipped, his distressed wife, hearing the sad news,

came to the jail; but notwithstanding the entreaties of several debtors,

the jailer could not allow her to come in, but granted, as a favor,

that she should speak with him through the grated door. The cries and

lamentations of that poor woman, as she stood upon the outside, holding

her bond-offspring in her arms, taking a last sorrowing farewell of him

who was so dearly cherished and beloved, would have melted a heart of

stone. She could not embrace him, but waited until he was led out to

torture, when she threw her arms around him, and was dragged away by a

ruffian's hand.

Poor George Fairchild! We heard him moaning under the acute pain of the

paddle, and saw him thrust into a cart like a dog, to be shipped as a

bale of merchandise for a distant port, who had suffered with him in the

guard-house came up and saluted him with a friendly recognition. Some

two weeks had passed since the occurrence, and yet his head presented

the effects of bruising, and was bandaged with a cloth. “Good young

massa, do give me a' fo' pence, for Is'e mose starve,” he said in a

suppliant tone. Tommy put his hand into his pocket, and drawing out a

quarter, passed it to the poor fellow, and received his thanks. Leaving

a message for Manuel that he would be sure to call and see him when

he returned, he passed from the house of misery and proceeded to his

vessel.

The captain of the schooner had been engaged by parties in Charleston,

who simply acted as agents for the owners. He had been moved to return

to Charleston by those feelings which are so inherent in our nature,

inspiring a feeling for the place of its nativity, and recalling the

early associations of childhood. Each longing fancy pointed back again,

and back he came, to further fortune on his native soil. His crew, with

the exception of Tommy, consisted of three good, active negroes, one of

whom acted as pilot on the Edisto River. Accustomed to the provisioning

of Boston ships, he had paid no attention to his supplies; for, in

fact, he only took charge of the little craft as an accommodation to the

agents, and with the promise of a large vessel as soon as he returned;

and sailing with a fine stiff breeze, he was far outside the light when

the doctor announced dinner. “What have you got that's good, old chap?”

said he to the cook.

“Fust stripe, Massa Cap'en. A right good chance o' homony and bacon

fry,” returned the negro.

“Homony and what? Nothing else but that?”

“Why, massa! gracious, dat what Massa Whaley give all he cap'en, an' he

tink 'em fust-rate,” said the negro.

As they were the only whites on board, the captain took little Tommy

into the cabin with him to sit at the same table; but there was too much

truth in the negro's statement, and instead of sitting down to one of

those nice dinners which are spread in Boston ships, both great and

small, there, on a little piece of pine board, swung with a preventer,

was a plate of black homony covered with a few pieces of fried pork, so

rank and oily as to be really repulsive to a common stomach. Beside

it was an earthen mug, containing about a pint of molasses, which was

bedaubed on the outside to show its quality. The captain looked at it

for a minute, and then taking up the iron spoon which stood in it, and

letting one or two spoonfuls drop back, said, “Old daddie, where are all

your stores? Fetch them out here.”

“Gih, massa! here 'em is; 'e's jus' as Massa Stoney give 'em,” said the

negro, drawing forth a piece of rusty and tainted bacon, weighing about

fifteen pounds, and, in spots, perfectly alive with motion; about a

half-bushel of corn-grits; and a small keg of molasses, with a piece of

leather attached to the bung.

“Is that all?” inquired the captain peremptorily.

“Yes, massa, he all w'at 'em got now, but git more at Massa Whaley

plantation win 'em git da.”

“Throw it overboard, such stinking stuff; it'll breed pestilence on

board,” said the captain to the negro, (who stood holding the spoiled

bacon in his hand, with the destructive macalia dropping on the floor,)

at the same time applying his foot to the table, and making wreck of

hog, homony, molasses, and plates.

“Gih-e-wh-ew! Massa, I trow 'im o'board, Massa Whaley scratch 'em back,

sartin. He tink 'em fust-rate. Plantation nigger on'y gits bacon twice

week, Massa Cap'en,” said he, picking up the wreck and carrying it upon

deck, where it was devoured with great gusto by the negroes, who fully

appreciated the happy God-send.

The captain had provided a little private store of crackers, cheese,

segars, and a bottle of brandy, and turning to his trunk, he opened it

and drew them out one by one, passing the crackers and cheese to

Tommy, and imbibing a little of the deacon himself, thus satisfying

the cravings of nature. Night came on; they were crossing the bar and

approaching the outlet of the Edisto, which was broad in sight;

but there was neither coffee nor tea on board, and no prospect of

supper-nothing but a resort to the crackers and cheese remained, the

stock of which had already diminished so fast, that what was left was

treasured among the things too choice to be eaten without limitation.

They reached the entrance, and after ascending a few miles, came to

anchor under a jut of wood that formed a bend in the river. The baying

of dogs during the night intimated the vicinity of a settlement near,

and in the morning the captain sent one of the negroes on shore for a

bottle of milk. “Massa, dat man what live yonder ha'n't much no-how,

alwa's makes 'em pay seven-pence,” said the negro. Sure enough it was

true; notwithstanding he was a planter of some property, he made the

smallest things turn to profit, and would charge vessels going up the

river twelve and a half cents per bottle for milk.

The captain had spent a restless night, and found himself blotched with

innumerable chinch-bites; and on examining the berths and lockers, he

found them swarming in piles. Calling one of the black men, he commenced

overhauling them, and drew out a perfect storehouse of rubbish, which

must have been deposited there, without molestation, from the day the

vessel was launched up to the present time, as varied in its kinds as

the stock of a Jew-shop, and rotten with age. About nine o'clock they

got under weigh again, and proceeding about twenty miles with a fair

wind and tide, they came to another point in the river, on which a

concourse of men had assembled, armed to the teeth with guns, rifles,

and knives. As he passed up, they were holding parley with a man and boy

in a canoe a few rods from the shore. At every few minutes they

would point their rifles at him, and with threatening gestures, swear

vengeance against him if he attempted to land. The captain, being

excited by the precarious situation of the man and his boy, and anxious

to ascertain the particulars, let go his anchor and “came to” a few

lengths above.

Scarcely had his anchor brought up than he was hailed from the shore by

a rough-looking man, who appeared to be chief in the manouvre, and who

proved to be no less a personage than a Mr. S--k, a wealthy planter.

“Don't take that man on board of your vessel, at the peril of your life,

captain. He's an abolitionist,” said he, accompanying his imperative

command with a very Southern rotation of oaths.

The man paddled his canoe on the outside of the vessel, and begged the

captain “for God's sake to take him on board and protect him; that an

excitement had been gotten up against him very unjustly, and he would

explain the circumstances if he would allow him to come on board.”

“Come on board,” said the captain. “Let you be abolitionist or what you

will, humanity will not let me see you driven out to sea in that manner;

you would be swamped before you crossed the bar.”

He came on board, trembling and wet, the little boy handing up a couple

of carpet-bags, and following him. No sooner had he done so, than three

or four balls whizzed past the captain's head, causing him to retreat to

the cabin. A few minutes intervened, and he returned to the deck.

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

The captain, not at all daunted, lowered his boat and went on shore.

“Now, gentlemen, what do you want with me?” said he, when S--k stepped

forward, and the following dialogue ensued:--

“Who owns that vessel, and what right have you to harbor a d--d

abolitionist?”

“I don't know who owns the vessel; I know that I sail her, and the

laws of God and man demand that I shall not pass a man in distress,

especially upon the water. He protests that he is not, and never was

an abolitionist; offers to prove it if you will hear him, and only asks

that you allow him to take away his property,” rejoined the captain.

“What! then you are an abolitionist yourself?”

“No, sir. I'm a Southern-born man, raised in Charleston, where my father

was raised before me.”

“So much, so good; but just turn that d--d scoundrel ashore as quick

as seventy, or we'll tie your vessel up and report you to the Executive

Committee, and stop your getting on more freight on the Edisto.”

“That I shall not do. You should have patience to investigate these

things, and not allow your feelings to become so excited. If I turn

him and his son adrift, I'm answerable for their lives if any accident

should occur to them,” rejoined the captain.

“Are you a secessionist, captain, or what are your political principles?

You seem determined to protect abolitionists. That scoundrel has been

associating with a nigger, and eating at his house ever since he has

been here.”

“Yes, yes, and we'll be d--d if he isn't an abolitionist,” joined in

a dozen voices, “for he dined at Bill Webster's last Sunday on a

wild-turkey. Nobody but an infernal abolitionist would dine with a

nigger.”

“As for politics, I never had much to do with them, and care as little

about secession as I do about theology; but I like to see men act

reasonably. If you want any thing more of me, you will find me at

Colonel Whaley's plantation to-morrow.” Thus saying, he stepped into

his boat and returned on board of his vessel. Just as he was getting

under-weigh again, whiz! whiz! whiz! came three shots, one in quick

succession after the other, the last taking effect and piercing the

crown of his hat, at which they retired out of sight. Fearing a return,

he worked his vessel about two miles farther up and came to anchor on

the other side of the channel, where he waited the return of the tide,

and had an opportunity to put his affrighted passengers on board a

schooner that was passing down, bound to Charleston.

The secret of such an outrage is told in a few words. The man was a

timber-getter from the vicinity of New Bedford, Massachusetts, who, with

his son, a lad about sixteen years of age, had spent several winters

in the vicinity of the Edisto, getting live-oak, what he considered

a laudable enterprise. He purchased the timber on the stump of the

inhabitants, at a price which left him very little profit, and had also

been charged an exorbitant price for every thing he got, whether

labor or provisions; and so far had that feeling of South Carolina's

self-sufficiency been carried out against him in all its cold

repulsiveness, that he found much more honesty and true hospitality

under the roof of a poor colored man. This so enraged some of the

planters, that they proclaimed against him, and that mad-dog cry of

abolitionist was raised against him. His horse and buggy, books and

papers were packed up and sent to Charleston-not, however, without

some of the most important of the latter being lost. His business was

destroyed, and he and his child taken by force, put into a little canoe

with one or two carpet-bags, and sent adrift. In this manner they had

followed him two miles down the river, he begging to be allowed

the privilege of settling his business and leave respectably-they

threatening to shoot him if he attempted to near the shore, or was

caught in the vicinity. This was his position when the captain found

him. He proceeded to Charleston, and laid his case before James L.

Petigru, Esq., United States District Attorney, and, upon his advice,

returned to the scene of “war on the banks of the Edisto,” to arrange

his business; but no sooner had he made his appearance than he was

thrown into prison, and there remained when we last heard of him.

This is one of the many cases which afford matter for exciting comment

for the editors of the Charleston Mercury and the Courier, and which

reflect no honor on a people who thus set law and order at defiance.

CHAPTER XXVI. A SINGULAR RECEPTION.

IT was about ten o'clock on the night of the fifteenth of April when the

schooner “Three Sisters” lay anchored close alongside of a dark jungle

of clustering brakes that hung their luxuriant foliage upon the bosom

of the stream. The captain sat upon a little box near the quarter,

apparently contemplating the scene, for there was a fairy-like beauty

in its dark windings, mellowed by the shadowing foliage that skirted

its borders in mournful grandeur, while stars twinkled on the sombre

surface.

The tide had just turned, and little Tommy, who had rolled himself up in

a blanket and laid down close to the captain, suddenly arose. “Captain,

did you hear that?” said he.

“Hark! there it is again,” said the captain. “Go and call the men,--we

must get under weigh.”

It was a rustling noise among the brakes; and when little Tommy went

forward to call the men, two balls came whistling over the quarter, and

then a loud rustling noise indicated that persons were retreating. The

captain retired to the cabin and took Tommy with him, giving orders to

the negro pilot to stand to the deck, get her anchor up, and let her

drift up stream with the tide, determined that if they shot any person,

it should be the negroes, for whose value they would be held answerable.

Thus she drifted up the stream, and the next morning was at the creek at

Colonel Whaley's plantation.

A number of ragged negroes came down to the bank in high glee at the

arrival, and making sundry inquiries about corn and bacon. One old

patriarchal subject cried out to the pilot, “Ah, Cesar, I 'now'd ye wah

cumin'. Massa, an' young Massa Aleck, bin promis' bacon mor' den week,

gess he cum' now.”

“Got sum corn, but ven ye gets bacon out o' dis craf' ye kotch wesel,

dat a'n't got no hair on 'im,” said Cesar.

The scene around was any thing but promising-disappointing to the

captain's exalted ideas of Colonel Whaley's magnificent plantation. The

old farm-house was a barrack-like building, dilapidated, and showing no

signs of having lately furnished a job for the painter, and standing in

an arena surrounded by an enclosure of rough slats. Close examination

disclosed fragments of gardening in the arena, but they showed the

unmistakable evidences of carelessness. At a short distance from this

was a cluster of dirty-looking negro-huts, raised a few feet from the

ground on palmetto piles, and strung along from them to the brink of the

river were numerous half-starved cattle and hogs, the latter rooting up

the sod.

It was now nearly slack water, on a high flood, and the schooner lay

just above the bend of the creek. Presently a large, portly-looking

man, dressed like as Yorkshire farmer, came, to the bank, and in a

stentorious voice ordered the captain to haul into the creek at once!

The manner in which the order was given rather taxed the captain's

feelings, yet he immediately set his men to work heaving up the anchor

and carrying out “a line” to warp her in. But that slow motion with

which negroes execute all orders, caused some delay, and no sooner had

he, begun to heave on the line than the tide set strong ebb and carried

him upon the lower point, where a strong eddy, made by the receding

water from the creek, and the strong undertow in the river, baffled all

his exertions. There she stuck, and all the warps and tow-lines of a

seventy-four, hove by the combined strength of the plantation, would

not have started her. When the tide left, she careened over toward the

river, for there was no means at hand to shore her up.

One of the drivers went up and reported “Massa captain got 'im ship

ashore,” and down came Colonel Whaley, with all the pomp of seven lord

mayors in his countenance. “What sort of a feller are you to command

a ship? I'd whip the worst nigger on the plantation, if he couldn't do

better than that. Rig a raft out and let me come o' board that vessel!”

said he, accompanying his demands with a volley of vile imprecations

that would have disgraced St. Giles'.

“Do you know who you're talking to? You mus'n't take me for a nigger,

sir! I know my duty, if you don't good manners,” rejoined the captain.

“Do you know who owns that ship? you impudent feller, you! Take the

sails off her, immediately-at once! or I'll shoot you, by heavens!” he

bawled out again.

“Why didn't you say mud-scow? Call such a thing as this a ship? I don't

care who owns her, I only know it's a disgrace to sail her; but I've got

the papers, and you may help yourself. When you pay me for my time, and

give me something for myself and these men to eat, you may take your old

jebac--car-boat,--but you don't put a foot aboard her till you do!”

This made the colonel rage worse. “I'll teach you a lesson how you

disobey my orders. Go get my rifle, Zeke,” said the colonel, turning to

an old negro who stood close by. And then calling to the men on board,

he ordered them to take charge of the vessel and take the sails off her

at once.

“Don't you move a hand to unbend a sail, Cesar! I don't know that man

ashore there. This vessel is mine until further orders from the persons

who shipped me,” rejoined the captain with an imperative demand to his

men.

“Why, la! massa, he own em dis ere vessel, an' he shoot em sartin if we

done do him; ye done know dat massa, as I does,” said Cesar.

“Don't touch a hand to those sails, I command one and all of you.

There's two can play at shooting, and I'll shoot you if you disobey my

orders.” Then turning to those on shore, he warned them that he would

shoot the first nigger that attempted to make a raft to come on board.

The reader will observe that the poor negroes were in a worse dilemma

than the captain; goaded on the one side by a ruthless master, who

claims ownership and demands the execution of his orders, while on

the other extreme the hired master proclaims his right, and warns

them against the peril of varying one iota from his commands. Here the

clashing feelings of arbitrary men come together, which have placed many

a good negro in that complex position, that he would be punished by one

master for doing that which he would have been punished by the other if

he had left undone.

It may be said to the colonel's credit, he did not return, rifle in

hand, nor did the captain see him afterward; but a young gentleman, a

son, who represented the father, came to the bank about an hour after

the occurrence, and making a lame apology for his father's temper,

requested the captain to come on shore. The latter had concluded to

await the return of the tide, run the vessel back to Charleston, report

his reception, and deliver the vessel up to the agents; but on further

consideration, there was nothing to eat on board, and what could he do?

He went on shore, and held a parley with the young man, whom he found

much more inclined to respect his color. “Your father took me for a

nigger, and as such he presumed upon the dignity of his plantation. Now

I know my duty, and have sailed in the finest ships and with the best

masters in the country. All I want is proper respect, something to eat,

what there is coming to me, and my passage paid back to Charleston by

land. No! I will not even request so much as that; give me something to

eat, and my passage to Charleston, and you may do what you please with

the vessel, but I shall deliver the papers to nobody but the persons who

shipped me. And I shall want you to see this little boy attended to, for

he's quite sick now,” said the captain, pointing to Tommy, and calling

him to him.

“Oh yes,” replied the young man, “we'll take care of the little fellow,

and see him sent safely back,” and took leave, promising to have another

interview in the afternoon. About twelve o'clock a negro boy came to the

vessel with a tin pan covered with a towel, and presenting it to Cesar,

for “massa cap'en and buckra boy.” Cesar brought it aft and set it upon

the companion. It contained some rice, a piece of bacon, corn-cake, and

three sweet-potatoes.

“Coarse fare, but I can get along with it. Come Tommy, I guess you're

hungry, as well as myself,” said the captain, and they sat down, and

soon demolished the feast of Southern hospitality. About five o'clock in

the evening, the young man not making his appearance, the Captain sent

Tommy ashore to inquire for him at the house, telling him (in order

to test their feelings) that he could stop and get his supper. Tommy

clambered ashore, and up the bank wending his way to the house. The

young man made his appearance, offering an apology for his delay and

inattention, saying the presence of some very particular friends from

Beaufort was the cause. “My father, you are aware, owns this vessel,

captain!--You got a good dinner, to-day, by-the-by,” said he.

“Yes, we got along with it, but could have eaten more,” rejoined the

captain.

“Ah! bless me, that was the nigger's fault. These niggers are such

uncertain creatures, you must watch 'em over the least thing. Well now,

captain, my father has sent you five dollars to pay your passage to

Charleston!”

“Well, that's a small amount, but I'll try and get along with it, rather

than stop here, at any rate,” said the captain, taking the bill and

twisting it into his pocket, and giving particular charges in regard

to taking care of the boy. That night, a little after sundown, he took

passage in a downward-bound coaster, bid a long good-by to the Edisto

and Colonel Whaley's plantation, and arrived in Charleston the next

night. On the following morning he presented himself to the agents, who

generously paid him, all his demands, and expressed their regrets at the

circumstance. Acting upon the smart of feeling, the captain enclosed the

five-dollar bill and returned it to the sovereign Colonel Whaley.

The Savannah Republican, of the 11th September, says-“We have been

kindly furnished with the particulars of a duel which came off at Major

Stark's plantation, opposite this city, yesterday morning, between

Colonel E. M. Whaley, and E. E. Jenkins, of South Carolina.” Another

paper stated that “after a single exchange of shot, * * * * the affair

terminated, but without a reconciliation.” The same Colonel Whaley!

Either 'of these journals might have give particulars more grievous,

and equally as expressive of Southern life. They might have described

a beautiful wife, a Northern lady, fleeing with her two children,

to escape the abuses of a faithless husband-taking shelter in the

Charleston Hotel, and befriended by Mr. Jenkins and another young man,

whose name we shall not mention-and that famous establishment surrounded

by the police on a Sabbath night, to guard its entrances-and she dragged

forth, and carried back to the home of unhappiness.

CHAPTER XXVII. THE HABEAS CORPUS.

THE Captain of the Janson had settled his business, and was anxious

to return home. He had done all in his power for Manuel, and

notwithstanding the able exertions of the consul were combined with his,

he had effected nothing to relieve him. The law was imperative, and if

followed out, there was no alternative for him, except upon the ground

of his proving himself entitled to a white man's privileges. To do

this would require an endless routine of law, which would increase his

anxiety and suffering twofold. Mr. Grimshaw had been heard to say, that

if an habeas corpus were sued out, he should stand upon the technicality

of an act of the legislature, refuse to answer the summons or give the

man up. No, he would himself stand the test upon the point of right to

the habeas corpus, and if he was committed for refusing to deliver up

the prisoner, he would take advantage of another act of the legislature,

and after remaining a length of time in jail, demand his release

according to the statutes. So far was Mr. Grimshaw impressed with his

own important position in the matter, and of the course which he should

pursue, that he several times told the prisoners that he should be a

prisoner among them in a few days, to partake of the same fare.

Judge Withers, however, saved him the necessity of such important

trouble. To those acquainted with Judge Withers it would be needless to

dwell upon the traits of his character. To those who are not, we can

say that his were feelings founded upon interest-moving in the foremost

elements of secession-arbitrary, self-willed, and easily swayed by

prejudice-a man known to the public and the bar for his frigidity, bound

in his own opinions, and yielding second to the wishes and principles of

none-fearful of his popularity as a judge, yet devoid of those sterling

principles which deep jurists bring to their aid when considering

important questions, where life or liberty is at stake-a mind that

would rather reinstate monarchy than spread the blessings of a free

government. What ground have we here to hope for a favorable issue?

Thus when the consul applied for the writ of habeas corpus, the right

was denied him, notwithstanding the subject was heir-inherent to all the

rights of citizenship and protection, which the laws of his own nation

could clothe him with. To show how this matter was treated by the

press-though we are happy to say the feelings of the mercantile

community are not reflected in it-we copy the leader from the “Southern

Standard,” a journal published in Charleston, the editor of which

professes to represent the conservative views of a diminutive minority.

Here it is:--

“CHARLESTON, APRIL 23, 1852. “Colored Seamen and State Rights.

“Our readers have not forgotten the correspondence which some time

since took place between His Excellency Governor Means and Her British

Majesty's Consul, Mr. Mathew. We published in the Standard, of the 5th

December last, the very temperate, dignified, and well-argued report of

Mr. Mazyck, chairman of the special committee of the Senate, to whom

had been referred the message of the Governor, transmitting the

correspondence. In our issue of the 16th December, we gave to our

readers the able report of Mr. McCready, on behalf of the committee of

the other house, on the same subject.

“We have now to call the attention of the public to the fact, that the

practical issue has been made, by which the validity of the laws in

regard to colored seamen arriving in our port is to be submitted to the

judicial tribunals of the country. For ourselves we have no fears for

the credit of the State in such a controversy. The right of the State

to control, by her own legislation, the whole subject-matter, can, as we

think, by a full discussion, be established upon a basis which, in the

South at least, will never hereafter be questioned. If there be defects

in the details of the regulations enacted, the consideration of them is

now precluded, when the issue presented is the right of the State to act

at all times in the premises.

“The writ of habeas corpus was applied for before Judge Withers, during

the term of the court which has just closed, by the British consul,

through his counsel, Mr. Petigru, in behalf of one Manuel Pereira,

a colored sailor, who claims to be a Portuguese subject, articled to

service on board an English brig driven into this port by stress of

weather; the said Manuel Pereira being then in jail under the provisions

of the act of the legislature of this State, passed in 1835, emendatory

of the previous acts on the subject. Judge Withers, in compliance with

the requirements of the act of 1844, refused the writ of habeas corpus,

and notice of appeal has been given. Thus is the issue upon us.

“We have but one regret in the matter, and that is that the case made is

one where the party asking his liberty has been driven into our harbor

involuntarily. Great Britain, it is true, is the last power which

should complain on this account, with her own example in the case of the

Enterprise before her eyes; but we do not, we confess, like this feature

of the law. We have no doubt, however, that this fact being brought to

the notice of the executive, he will interfere promptly to release the

individual in the present case, provided the party petitions for the

purpose, and engages at once to leave the State. But we shall see

nothing of this. Mr. Manuel Pereira, like another John Wilkes, is to

have settled in his person great questions of constitutional liberty.

The posterity which in after times shall read of his voluntary martyrdom

and heroic self-sacrifice in the cause of suffering humanity, must be

somewhat better informed than Mr. Pereira himself; for we observe that

his clerkly skill did not reach the point of enabling him to subscribe

his name to the petition for habeas corpus, which is to figure so

conspicuously in future history, it being more primitively witnessed by

his 'mark.'”

An appeal was taken from this refusal, and carried before the appeal

court, sitting at Columbia, the capital of the State. How was this

treated? Without enlisting common respect, it sustained the opinion

of Judge Withers, who was one of its constituted members. Under such a

state of things, where all the avenues to right and justice were clogged

by a popular will that set itself above law or justice, where is the

unprejudiced mind that will charge improper motives in asking justice of

the highest judicial tribunal in the country.

In the year 1445, a petition was presented, or entered on the rolls of

the British Parliament, from the commons of two neighboring counties,

praying the abatement of a nuisance which promised fearful interruptions

to the peace and quiet of their hamlets, in consequence of the number of

attorneys having increased from eight to twenty-four, setting forth that

attorneys were dangerous to the peace and happiness of a community, and

praying that there should be no more than six attorneys for each county.

The king granted the petition, adding a clause which left it subject

to the approval of the judges. Time works mighty contrasts. If those

peaceable old commoners could have seen a picture of the nineteenth

century, with its judiciary dotted upon the surface, they would

certainly have put the world down as a very unhappy place. The people

of Charleston might now inquire why they have so much law and so little

justice?

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

AFTER remaining nearly three weeks in close confinement in a cell on

the third story, Manuel was allowed to come down and resume his position

among the stewards, in the “steward's cell.” There was a sad change of

faces. But one of those he left was there; and he, poor fellow, was so

changed as to be but a wreck of what he was when Manuel was confined in

the cell.

After little Tommy left, the Captain deposited a sum of money with

the jailer to supply Manuel's wants. The jailer performed his duty

faithfully, but the fund was soon exhausted, and Manuel was forced to

appeal to his consul. With the care for its citizens that marks the

course of that government, and the characteristic kindness of its

representative in Charleston, the appeal was promptly responded to.

The consul attended him in person, and even provided from his own purse

things necessary to make him comfortable. We could not but admire the

nobleness of many acts bestowed upon this humble citizen through the

consul, showing the attachment and faith of a government to its humblest

subject. The question now was, would the Executive release him? Mr.

Grimshaw had interposed strong objections, and made unwarrantable

statements in regard to his having been abandoned by his captain,

the heavy expenses incurred to maintain the man, and questioning the

validity of the British consul's right to protect him. Under the effect

of these representations, the prospect began to darken, and Manuel

became more discontented, and anxiously awaited the result.

In this position, a petition was despatched to the Executive, asking

that the man might be released, on the faith of the British Government

that all expenses be paid, and he immediately sent beyond the limits of

the State.

But we must return and take leave of Captain Thompson, before we receive

the answer to the petition. The day fixed for his departure had arrived.

He had all his papers collected, and arose early to take his accustomed

walk through the market. It was a little after seven o'clock, and as he

approached the singular piece of wood-work that we have described in

a previous chapter as the Charleston Whipping-post, he saw a crowd

collected around it, and negroes running to the scene, crying out,

“Buckra gwine to get whip! buckra get 'e back scratch!” &c. &c. He

quickened his pace, and, arriving at the scene, elbowed his way through

an immense crowd until he came to where he had a fair view. Here,

exposed to view, were six respectably dressed white men, to be whipped

according to the laws of South Carolina, which flog in the market

for petty theft. Five of them were chained together, and the other

scientifically secured to the machine, with his bare back exposed,

and Mr. Grimshaw (dressed with his hat and sword of office to make the

dignity of the punishment appropriate) laying on the stripes with a big

whip, and raising on tip-toe at each blow to add force, making the flesh

follow the lash. Standing around were about a dozen huge constables

with long-pointed tipstaffs in their hands, while two others assisted

in chaining and unchaining the prisoners. The spectacle was a barbarous

one, opening a wide field for reflection. It was said that this

barbarous mode of punishment was kept up as an example for the negroes.

It certainly is a very singular mode of inspiring respect for the laws.

He had heard much of T. Norman Gadsden, whose fame sounded for being the

greatest negro-seller in the country, yet he had not seen him, though he

had witnessed several negro-sales at other places. On looking over the

papers after breakfast, his eye caught a flaming advertisement with “T.

Norman Gadsden's sale of negroes” at the head. There were plantation

negroes, coachmen, house-servants, mechanics, children of all ages, with

descriptions as various as the kinds. Below the rest, and set out with

a glowing delineation, was a description of a remarkably fine young

sempstress, very bright and very intelligent, sold for no fault. The

notice should have added an exception, that the owner was going to get

married.

He repaired to the place at the time designated, and found them selling

an old plantation-negro, dressed in ragged, gray clothes, who, after a

few bids, was knocked down for three hundred and fifty dollars. “We will

give tip-top titles to everything we sell here to-day; and, gentlemen,

we shall now offer you the prettiest wench in town. She is too

well-known for me to say more,” said the notorious auctioneer.

A number of the first citizens were present, and among them the Captain

recognised Colonel S--, who approached and began to descant upon the

sale of the woman. “It's a d--d shame to sell that girl, and that fellow

ought to be hung up,” said he, meaning the owner; and upon this he

commenced giving a history of the poor girl.

“Where is she? Bring her along! Lord! gentlemen, her very curls are

enough to start a bid of fifteen hundred,” said the auctioneer.

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

The poor girl moved to the stand, pale and trembling, as if she was

stepping upon the scaffold, and saw her executioners around her. She was

very fair and beautiful-there was something even in her graceful motions

that enlisted admiration. Here she stood almost motionless for a few

moments.

“Gentlemen, I ought to charge all of you sevenpence a sight for looking

at her,” said the auctioneer. She smiled at the remark, but it was the

smile of pain.

“Why don't you sell the girl, and not be dogging her feelings in this

manner?” said Colonel S--.

Bids continued in rapid succession from eleven hundred up to thirteen

hundred and forty. A well-known trader from New Orleans stood behind

one of the city brokers, motioning him at every bid, and she was knocked

down to him. We learned her history and know the sequel.

The Captain watched her with mingled feelings, and would fain have said,

“Good God! and why art thou a slave?”

The history of that unfortunate beauty may be comprehended in a few

words, leaving the reader to draw the details from his imagination. Her

mother was a fine mulatto slave, with about a quarter Indian blood. She

was the mistress of a celebrated gentleman in Charleston, who ranked

among the first families, to whom she bore three beautiful children, the

second of which is the one before us. Her father, although he could not

acknowledge her, prized her highly, and unquestionably never intended

that she should be considered a slave. Alice, for such was her name,

felt the shame of her position. She knew her father, and was proud to

descant upon his honor and rank, yet must either associate with negroes

or nobody, for it would be the death of caste for a white woman, however

mean, to associate with her. At the age of sixteen she became attached

to a young gentleman of high standing but moderate means, and lived

with him as his mistress. Her father, whose death is well known, died

suddenly away from home. On administering on his estate, it proved that

instead of being wealthy, as was supposed, he was insolvent, and the

creditors insisting upon the children being sold. Alice was purchased

by compromise with the administrator, and retained by her lord under a

mortgage, the interest and premium on which he had regularly paid for

more than four years. Now that he was about to get married, the excuse

of the mortgage was the best pretext in the world to get rid of her.

The Captain turned from the scene with feelings that left deep

impressions upon his mind, and that afternoon took his departure for his

Scottish home.

Time passed heavily at the jail, and day after day Manuel awaited his

fate with anxiety. At every tap of the prison-bell he would spring to

the door and listen, asserting that he heard the consul's voice in every

passing sound. Day after day the consul would call upon him and quiet

his fears, reassuring him that he was safe and should not be sold as

a slave. At length, on the seventeenth day of May, after nearly two

months' imprisonment, the glad news was received that Manuel Pereira

was not to be sold, according to the statutes, but to be released upon

payment of all costs, &c. &c., and immediately sent beyond the limits

of the State. We leave it to the reader's fancy, to picture the scene of

joy on the reception of the news in the “stewards' cell.”

The consul lost no time in arranging his affairs for him, and at five

o'clock on the afternoon of the 17th of May, 1852, Manuel Pereira,

a poor, shipwrecked mariner, who, by the dispensation of an all-wise

Providence, was cast upon the shores of South Carolina, and imprisoned

because hospitality to him was “contrary to law,” was led forth, pale

and emaciated, by two constables, thrust into a closely covered vehicle,

and driven at full speed to the steamboat then awaiting to depart for

New York. This is but a faint glimpse, of the suffering to which colored

stewards are subjected in the Charleston jail.

There were no less than sixty-three cases of colored seamen imprisoned

on this charge of “contrary to law,” during the calendar year ending

on the twelfth of September, 1852. And now that abuses had become so

glaring, a few gentlemen made a representation of the wretched prison

regimen to his Excellency, Governor Means, who, as if just awoke from

a dream that had lasted a generation, addressed a letter to the

Attorney-General, dated on the seventh of September, 1852, requesting a

statement in regard to the jail-how many prisoners there were confined

on the twelfth day of September, under sentence and awaiting trial,

the nature of offences, who committed by, and how long they had awaited

trial; what the cost of the jail was, how much was paid by prisoners,

and how much by the State, &c. &c. In that statement, the number of

colored seamen was, for reasons best known to Mr. Grimshaw, kept out of

the statement; so also was the difference between thirty cents and eight

cents a day, paid for the ration for each man. The real statement showed

a bounty to the sheriff of fourteen hundred and sixty-three dollars on'

the provisions alone-a sad premium upon misery. Now add to this a medium

amount for each of these sixty-three sailors, and we have between eight

and nine hundred dollars more, which, with sundry jail-fees and other

cribbage-money, makes the Charleston jail a nice little appendage to

the sheriff's office, and will fully account for the tenacity with which

those functionaries cling to the “old system.”

We conclude the bills by giving Manuel's as it stands upon the

books:--“Contrary to law.” British brig “Janson,” Capt. Thompson. For

Manuel Pereira, Colored Seaman. 1852. To Sheriff of Charleston District.

May 15th. To Arrest, $2; Register, $2, $4.00” “Recog., $1.31; Constable,

$1, 2.31” “Commitment and Discharge, 1.00” “52 Days' Maintenance of

Manuel Pereira, at 30 cents per day, 15.60

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

This amount is exclusive of all the long scale of law charges and

attorney's fees that were incurred, and is entirely the perquisite of

the sheriff.

Now, notwithstanding that high-sounding clamor about the laws of

South Carolina, which every South Carolinian, in the redundance of his

feelings, strives to impress you with the sovereignty of its justice,

its sacred rights, and its pre-eminent reputation, we never were in a

country or community where the privileges of a certain class were so

much abused. Every thing is made to conserve popular favor, giving to

those in influence power to do what they please with a destitute class,

whether they be white or black. Official departments are turned into

depots for miserable espionage, where the most unjust schemes are

practised upon those whose voices cannot be heard in their own defence.

A magistrate is clothed with, or assumes a power that is almost

absolute, committing them without a hearing, and leaving them to waste

in jail; then releasing them before the court sits, and charging the

fees to the State; or releasing the poor prisoner on receiving “black

mail” for the kindness; giving one man a peace-warrant to oppress

another whom he knows cannot get bail; and where a man has served

out the penalty of the crime for which he was committed, give a

peace-warrant to his adversary that he may continue to vent his spleen

upon him. In this manner, we have known a man who had served seven

months' imprisonment for assault and battery, by an understanding

between the magistrate and the plaintiff, continued in jail for several

years upon a peace-warrant, issued by the magistrate from time to time,

until at length he shot himself in jail. The man was a peaceable man,

and of a social temperament. He had been offered the alternative of

leaving the State, but he scorned to accept it. To show that we are

correct in what we say respecting some of the Charleston officials, we

insert an article which appeared in the Charleston Courier of Sept. 1,

1852:--[For the Courier.]

“Many of the quiet and moral portion of our community can form no

adequate conception of the extent to which those who sell liquor,

and otherwise trade with our slaves, are now plying their illegal

and demoralizing traffic. At no period within our recollection has it

prevailed to such an alarming extent; at no period has its influence

upon our slave population been more palpable or more dangerous; at no

period has the municipal administration been so wilfully blind to these

corrupt practices, or so lenient and forgiving when such practices are

exposed.”

* * * *

“We have heard it intimated that when General Schnierle is a candidate

for the mayoralty, they are regularly assessed for means to defray the

expenses of the canvass. Instances are not wanting where amounts of

money are paid monthly to General Schnierle's police as a reward for

shutting their eyes and closing their lips when unlawful proceedings are

in progress. We have at this moment in our possession a certificate from

a citizen, sworn to before Mr. Giles, the magistrate, declaring that he,

the deponent, heard one of the city police-officers (Sharlock) make a

demand for money upon one of these shop-keepers, and promised that if

he would pay him five dollars at stated intervals, 'none of the

police-officers would trouble him.' This affidavit can be seen, if

inquired for, at this office. Thus bribery is added to guilt, and those

who should enforce the laws are made auxiliaries in their violation.

Said one of these slave-destroyers to us, 'General Schnierle suits us

very well. I have no trouble with General Schnierle'--remarks at once

repugnant and suggestive. * * * We are told by one, that Mr. Hutchinson,

when in power, fined him heavily (and, as he thought, unjustly)

for selling liquor to a slave; hence he would not vote for him. An

additional reason for this animosity toward Mr. Hutchinson arises from

the fact that the names of offenders were always published during that

gentleman's administration, while under that of General Schnierle they

are screened from public view. On any Sunday evening, light may be seen

in the shops of these dealers. If the passer-by will for a few moments

stay his course, he will witness the ingress and egress of negroes; if

he approach the door, he will hear noise as of card-playing and revelry

within. And this is carried on unblushingly; is not confined to a shop

here and a shop there, but may be observed throughout the city. The

writer of this article, some Sundays since, witnessed from his upper

window a scene of revelry and gambling in one of these drinking-shops,

which will scarcely be credited. A party of negroes were seen around

a card-table, with money beside them, engaged in betting; glasses

of liquor were on the table, from which they ever and anon regaled

themselves with all the nonchalance and affected mannerism of the most

fashionable blades of the beau monde.

“This may not be a 'desecration of the Sabbath' by the municipal

authorities themselves, but they are assuredly responsible for its

profanation. Appointed to guard the public morals, they are assuredly

censurable if licentiousness is suffered to run its wild career

unnoticed and unchecked. We do not ask to be believed. We would prefer

to have skeptical rather than credulous readers. We should prefer that

all would arise from the perusal of this article in doubt, and determine

to examine for themselves. We believe in the strength and sufficiency of

ocular proof, and court investigation.

* * *

“We are abundantly repaid if we succeed in arousing public attention to

the alarming and dangerous condition of our city. * * * Let inquiry be

entered into. We boldly challenge it. It will lead to other and more

astonishing developments than those we have revealed. (Signed)

“A RESPONSIBLE CITIZEN.”

CHAPTER XXIX. MANUEL'S ARRIVAL IN NEW YORK.

WHEN we left Manuel, he was being hurried on board the steamship, as if

he was a bale of infected goods. Through the kindness of the clerk in

the consul's office, he was provided with a little box of stores to

supply his wants on the passage, as it was known that he would have to

“go forward.” He soon found himself gliding over Charleston bar, and

took a last look of what to him had been the city of injustice. On the

afternoon of the second day, he was sitting upon the forward deck

eating an orange that had been given to him by the steward of the ship,

probably as a token of sympathy for his sickly appearance, when a number

of passengers, acting upon the information of the clerk of the ship,

gathered around him. One gentleman from Philadelphia, who seemed to take

more interest in the man than any other of the passengers, expressed his

indignation in no measured terms, that such a man should be imprisoned

as a slave. “Take care,” said a bystander, “there's a good many

Southerners on board.”

“I don't care if every slaveholder in the South was on board, holding

a knife at my throat; I'm on the broad ocean, where God spreads the

breezes of freedom that man cannot enslave,” said he, sitting down

beside Manuel, and getting him to recount the details of his shipwreck

and imprisonment. The number increased around him, and all listened with

attention until he had concluded. One of the spectators asked him if

he would have something good to eat? but he declined, pulling out the

little box that the consul had sent him, and, opening it before them,

showed it to be well-stored with little delicacies.

The Philadelphian motioned that they take up a subscription for him, and

almost simultaneously took his hat off and began to pass it around;

but Manuel, mistaking the motive, told them that he never yet sought

charity-that the consul had paid him his wages, and he had money enough

to get home. But if he did not accept their contributions, he had their

sympathies and their good wishes, which were more prized by him, because

they were contrasted with the cold hospitality he had suffered in

Charleston.

On the morning of the twentieth he arrived in New York. Here things wore

a different aspect. There were no constables fettering him with irons,

aggravating his feelings, and dragging him to a miseerable cell overrun

with vermin. He had no scientific ordeal of the statutes to pass

through, requiring the measure of his form and features; and he was a

man again, with life and liberty, and the dark dread of the oppressor's

power far from him. He went to his comfortable boarding-house, and laid

his weary limbs down to rest, thanking God that he could now sleep

in peace, and awake to liberty. His system was so reduced that he was

unable to do duty, although he was anxious to proceed on his way to join

the old owners, but wanted to work his way in the capacity of steward.

Thus he remained in New York more than four weeks, gaining vigor and

strength, and with a lingering hope that he should meet his little

companion.

On the twenty-first of June, being well recruited, he sailed for

Liverpool, and after a remarkably calm passage of thirty-four days,

arrived in the Mersey, and in forty-eight hours more the ship was safely

within the Princess' Dock, and all hands ready to go on shore. In the

same dock was a ship taking in cargo and passengers for Charleston,

South Carolina. Manuel went on board, and found, in conversation with

the steward, that she had sailed from that port on the 23d of May. A

short conversation disclosed that they had been old shipmates from the

Thames, on board of the Indiaman, Lord William Bentick, and were on

board of that ship when an unfortunate circumstance occurred to her on

entering a British North American port, many years ago. Here they sat

recounting the many adventures through which they had passed since

that period, the ships they had sailed in, the sufferings they had gone

through, and the narrow escapes they had had for their lives, until past

midnight. Manuel wound up by giving a detailed account of his sufferings

in Charleston.

“What!” said the steward of the Charleston ship, “then you must have

known our cabin-boy, he belonged to the same vessel!”

“What was his name?” inquired Manuel.

“Tommy Ward! and as nice a little fellow as ever served the cabin; poor

little fellow, we could hardly get him across.”

“Gracious! that's my Tommy,” said Manuel. “Where is he? He loves me as

he does his life, and would run to me as a child would to its father.

Little as he is, he has been a friend through my severest trials, and a

companion in my pleasures.”

“Ah, poor child! I'm afraid you wouldn't know him now. He has suffered

much since you saw him.”

“Is he not aboard? Where can I find him?” inquired Manuel, hastily.

“No, he is not aboard; he is at the hospital in Dennison street. Go

there to-morrow, and you will find him.”

CHAPTER XXX. THE SCENE OF ANGUISH.

WE are sorry, that having traced the details of our narrative as they

occurred, without adding for dramatic effect, we are constrained to

conclude with a picture at once painful and harrowing to the feelings.

We do this that we may be sustained by records, in what we have stated,

rather than give one of those more popular conclusions which restore

happiness and relieve the reader's feelings.

Manuel retired to his berth, full of meditation. His little companion

was before him, pictured in his child-like innocence and playfulness. He

saw him in the youthful zeal and freshness of the night when he brought

the well-laden haversack into his dreary cell, and which kind act was

repaid by a night of suffering in the guard-house. There was too much of

life and buoyancy in the picture his imagination called up, to reconcile

the belief that any thing serious had befallen him; and yet the man

spoke in a manner that aroused the intensity of his feelings. It was a

whisper full of fearful forebodings, and filled his mind with anxious

expectation. He could not sleep-the anxiety of his feelings had

awakened a nervvous restlessness that awaited the return of morning with

impatience.

Morning came. He proceeded to the hospital and rang the bell. An aged

gentleman came to the door, and to his questions about Tommy being

there, answered in the affirmative, and called an attendant to show him

the ward in which the little sufferer lay. He followed the attendant,

and after ascending several flights of stairs and following a dark,

narrow passage nearly to its end, was shown into a small, single-room on

the right. The result was suggestive in the very atmosphere, which had

a singular effect upon the senses. The room, newly-whitewashed, was

darkened by a green curtain tacked over the frame of the window.

Standing near the window were two wooden-stools and a little table, upon

which burned the faint light of a small taper, arranged in a cup of oil,

and shedding its feeble flickers on the evidences of a sick-chamber.

There, on a little, narrow cot, lay the death-like form of his once

joyous companion, with the old nurse sitting beside him, watching his

last pulsation. Her arm encircled his head, while his raven locks curled

over his forehead, and shadowed the beauty of innocence even in death.

“Is he there? is he there?” inquired Manuel in a low tone. At the same

time a low, gurgling noise sounded in his ears. The nurse started to

her feet as if to inquire for what he came. “He is my companion-my

companion,” said Manuel.

It was enough. The woman recognised the object of the little sufferer's

anxiety. “Ah! it is Manuel. How often he has called that name for the

last week!” said she.

He ran to the bedside and grasped his little fleshless hand as it lay

upon the white sheet, bathing his cold brow with kisses of grief. Life

was gone-the spirit had winged its way to the God who gave it. Thus

closed the life of poor Tommy Ward. He died as one resting in a calm

sleep, far from the boisterous sound of the ocean's tempest, with God's

love to shield his spirit in another and brighter world.

CONCLUSION.

IN a preceding chapter, we left the poor boy on the plantation of

Colonel Whaley, affected by a pulmonary disease, the seeds of which were

planted on the night he was confined in the guard-house, and the signs

of gradual decay evinced their symptoms. After Captain Williams--for

such was the name of the captain of the Three Sisters--left the

plantation, no person appeared to care for him, and on the second day he

was attacked with a fever, and sent to one of the negro cabins, where an

old mulatto woman took care of him and nursed him as well as her scanty

means would admit. The fever continued for seven days, when he

became convalescent and able to walk out; but feeling that he was an

incumbrance to those around him, he packed his clothes into a little

bundle and started for Charleston on foot. He reached that city after

four days' travelling over a heavy, sandy road, subsisting upon the

charity of poor negroes, whom he found much more ready to supply his

wants than the opulent planters. One night he, was compelled to make

a pillow of his little bundle, and lay down in a corn-shed, where the

planter, aroused by the noise of his dogs, which were confined in a

kennel, came with a lantern and two negroes and discovered him. At first

he ordered him off, and threatened to set the dogs upon him if he

did not instantly comply with the order; but his miserable appearance

affected the planter, and before he had gone twenty rods one of the

negroes overtook him, and said his master had sent him to bring him

back. He returned, and the negro made him a coarse bed in his cabin, and

gave him some homony and milk.

His hopes to see Manuel had buoyed him up through every fatigue, but

when he arrived, and was informed at the jail that Manuel had left three

days before, his disappointment was extreme. A few days after he shipped

as cabin-boy on board a ship ready for sea and bound to Liverpool.

Scarcely half-way across, he was compelled to resign himself to the

sick-list. The disease had struck deep into his system, and was rapidly

wasting him away. The sailors, one by one in turns, watched over him

with tenderness and care. As soon as the ship arrived, he was sent

to the hospital, and there he breathed his last as Manuel entered the

sick-chamber. We leave Manuel and a few of his shipmates following his

remains to the last resting-place of man.

APPENDIX.

SINCE the foregoing was written, Governor Means, in his message to the

Legislature of South Carolina, refers to the laws under which “colored

seamen” are imprisoned. We make the subjoined extract, showing that

he insists upon its being continued in force, on the ground of

“self-preservation”--a right which ship-owners will please regard for

the protection of their own interests:--

“I feel it my duty to call your attention to certain proceedings

which have grown out of the enforcement of that law of our State which

requires the Sheriff of Charleston to seize and imprison colored seamen

who are brought to that port. You will remember that the British Consul

addressed a communication to the legislature in December, 1850, on the

subject of a modification of this law. A committee was appointed by

the House and Senate to report upon it at the next session of the

legislature. These committees reported adverse to any modification. On

the 24th March, 1852, Manuel Pereira was imprisoned in accordance with

the law alluded to. The vessel in which he sailed was driven into the

port of Charleston in distress. This was looked upon as a favorable case

upon which to make an issue, as so strong an element of sympathy was

connected with it. Accordingly, a motion was made before Judge

Withers for a writ of 'habeas corpus,' which was refused by him. These

proceedings were instituted by the British Consul, it is said, under

instructions from his government, to test the constitutionality of

the Act. I think it here proper to state, that Pereira was at perfect

liberty to depart at any moment that he could get a vessel to transport

him beyond the limits of the State. In truth, in consideration of the

fact that his coming into the State was involuntary, the Sheriff of

Charleston, with his characteristic kindness, procured for him a place

in a ship about to sail for Liverpool. Early in April, Pereira was

actually released, and on his way to the ship, having himself signed the

shipping articles, when, by interposition of the British Consul, he was

again consigned to the custody of the sheriff. A few days after this,

the British Consul insisted no longer on his detention, but voluntarily

paid his passage to New York. This was looked upon as an abandonment of

that case. The statement of Mr. Yates, together with the letter of the

British Consul, are herewith transmitted.

“While these proceedings were pending, the Sheriff of Charleston had

my instructions not to give up the prisoners even if a writ of habeas

corpus had been granted. I considered that the 'Act of 1844,' entitled,

'An Act more effectually to prevent negroes and other persons of color

from entering into this State, and for other purposes,' made it my duty

to do so.

“On the 19th May, Reuben Roberts, a colored seaman, a native of Nassau,

arrived in the steamer Clyde, from Baracoa. The Sheriff of Charleston,

in conformity with the law of the State, which has been in force

since 1823, arrested and lodged him in the district jail, where he was

detained until the 26th of May, when, the Clyde being ready to sail,

Roberts was put on board, and sailed the same day.

“On the 9th of June, a writ in trespass, for assault and false

imprisonment, from the Federal Court, was served upon Sheriff Yates,

laying the damage at $4000.

“The Act of 1844, I take it, was intended to prevent all interference

on the part of any power on the face of the earth, with the execution of

this police regulation, which is so essential to the peace and safety of

our community. Had the legislature which passed it ever dreamed that the

sheriff was to be subjected to the annoyance of being dragged before the

Federal Court for doing his duty under a law of the State, I am sure it

would have provided for his protection. As no such provision has been

made for so unexpected a contingency, I recommend that you so amend this

Act of 1844, that it may meet any case that may arise.

“It is certainly wrong to tolerate this interference with the

laws enacted for the protection of our institution. In the general

distribution of power between the Federal and State Governments, the

right to make their own police regulations was clearly reserved to

the States. In fact, it is nothing more nor less than the right of

self-preservation-a right which is above all constitutions, and above

all laws, and one which never was, nor never will be, abandoned by a

people who are worthy to be free. It is a right which has never yet been

attempted to be denied to any people, except to us.

“The complaint against this law is very strange, and the attempt to

bring us in conflict with the General Government on account of it, is

still more remarkable; when, so far from its being at variance with the

laws of the United States, it is only requiring the State authorities to

enforce an Act of Congress, approved February 28th, 1803, entitled, An

Act to prevent the importation of certain persons into certain States,

where, by the laws thereof, their importation is prohibited. By

referring to this Act, you will see that the plaintiff in the action

alluded to was prohibited by it from entering into this State. I deem

it unnecessary, however, to enter fully into the argument. If any doubt

should be entertained by you, as to its constitutionality, I beg leave

to refer to the able opinion of the Hon. J. McPherson Berrien, delivered

at the time he was Attorney-General of the United States, which I

herewith send you.

“On the subject of the modification of this law, I am free to say,

that when Her B. M.'s Government, through its consul, made a respectful

request to our legislature to that effect, I was anxious that it should

be made. It was with pleasure that I transmitted his first communication

to the last legislature. I would have made a recommendation of its

modification a special point in my first message, but that I thought it

indelicate to do so, as the matter was already before the legislature,

and committees had been appointed to report upon it. Another reason for

the neglect of this recommendation, was the then excited state of

party politics, which might have precluded the possibility of a calm

consideration of the subject. But for the proceedings instituted in the

premises, I would even now recommend a modification of the law, so as to

require captains to confine their colored seamen to their vessels, and

to prevent their landing under heavy penalties. For while I think the

State has a perfect right to pass whatever laws on this subject it may

deem necessary for its safety, yet the spirit of the age requires that

while they should be so formed as to be adequate to our protection,

they should be at the same time as little offensive as possible to other

nations with whom we have friendly relations. But since an attempt has

been made to defy our laws, and bring us in conflict with the Federal

Government, on a subject upon which we are so justly sensitive, our own

self-respect demands that we should not abate one jot or tittle of that

law, which was enacted to protect us from the influence of ignorant

incendiaries.”

We are under many obligations to Governor Means for his remarks upon

this subject. We esteem his character too highly to entertain an

idea that he would knowingly make an incorrect statement; but, with a

knowledge of the facts, we can assure him that he was misled by those

whom he depended upon for information. And also, though his name

deserves to stand pre-eminent among the good men of Carolina, for

recurring to that frightful state of things which exists in the

Charleston prison, that he did not receive a correct statement in regard

to it. In this want, his remarks lose much of their value. Subjects and

grievances exist there which he should know most of, and yet he knows

least, because he intrusts them to the caretakers, who make abuses their

medium of profit.

Under the influence of that exceedingly suspicious, and yet exceedingly

credulous characteristic of a people, few know the power that is working

beneath the sunshine of South Carolina, and those who do, stand upon

that slaveworn ostentation which considers it beneath notice.

We have no interest nor feeling beyond that of humanity, and a right

to expose the mendacity of those who have power to exercise it over the

prisoners in Charleston. That mendacity has existed too long for the

honor of that community, and for the feelings of those who have suffered

under it.

It may be true that this case was considered a favorable one to try the

issue upon, but no elements of sympathy were sought by the consul.

That functionary to whom the Governor has attributed “characteristic

kindness,” said, in our presence, and we have the testimony of others

to confirm what we say, that if Judge Withers had granted the habeas

corpus, he would not have given up the prisoner, but rather gone to

jail and suffered the same regimen with the prisoners. Had he tried the

accommodations, he would have found the “profits” more than necessary to

appease common hunger.

The Governor says, “Pereira was at liberty to depart at any moment that

he could get a vessel to transport him beyond the limits of the State.”

How are we to reconcile this with the following sentence, which appears

in the next paragraph:--“While these proceedings were pending,” (meaning

the action instituted by the consul to release the prisoner,) “the

sheriff of Charleston had my instructions not to give up the prisoner,

even if a writ of habeas corpus had been granted?” According to this,

the sheriff assumed a power independent of and above the Governor's

prerogative. We have attempted to picture the force of this in our

work, and to show that there are official abuses cloaked by an honorable

dishonesty, which dignifies the business of the local factor and vendor

of human property, and which should be stayed by the power of the

Executive.

The singular fact presents itself, that while Judge Withers was

deliberating upon the question of granting the “habeas corpus,” the

proceedings pending, and the Governor's instructions to the contrary

before him, the sheriff takes it upon himself to smuggle the prisoner

out of port. Now what was the object of this Secret and concerted

movement? Was it “kindness” on the part of that functionary, who has

grasped every pretence to enforce this law? We think not. The reader

will not require any extended comments from us to explain the motive;

yet we witnessed it, and cannot leave it without a few remarks.

It is well known that it has been the aim of that functionary, whose

“characteristic kindness” has not failed to escape the Governor's

notice, to thwart the consul in all his proceedings. In this instance,

he engaged the services of a “shipping master” as a pretext, and with

him was about to send the man away when his presence was essential to

test his right to the habeas corpus, and at this very time, more than

two months wages, due him from the owners, lay in the hands of the

consul, ready to be paid on his release.

The nefarious design speaks for itself.

The consul was informed of the proceeding, and very properly refused

to submit to such a violation of authority, intended to annul his

proceedings. He preferred to await the “test,” demanding the prisoner's

release through the proper authorities. That release, instead of being

“a few days after this,” as the message sets forth, was-not effected

until the fifteenth of May.

Let the Governor institute an inquiry into the treatment of these men

by the officials, and the prison regimen, and he will find the truth

of what we have said. Public opinion will not credit his award of

“characteristic kindness” to those who set up a paltry pretext as an

apology for their wrong-doing.

If men are to be imprisoned upon this singular construction of law,

(which is no less than arming the fears of South Carolina,) is it any

more than just to ask that she should pay for it, instead of imposing

it upon innocent persons? Or, to say the least, to make such comfortable

provision for them as is made in the port of Savannah, and give them

what they pay for, instead of charging thirty cents a day for their

board, and making twenty-two of that profit?

Had the Governor referred to the “characteristic kindness” of the

jailer, his remarks would have been bestowed upon a worthy man, who has

been a father to those unfortunates who chanced within the turn of his

key.

In another part of his message, commenting upon the existence of

disgraceful criminal laws, the management and wretched state of prisons,

he says, “The attorney-general, at my request, has drawn up a report

on the subject of prisons and prison discipline.” Now, if such were the

facts, the reports would be very imperfect to be drawn up by one who

never visits the prisons.

We are well aware that he called for this report, and further, that the

attorney-general, in a letter to the sheriff, (of which we have a copy,)

propounded numerous questions in regard to the jail, calling for a

statement in full, particularly the amount of fees paid to certain

functionaries; those charged to the State, and the average number of

prisoners per month, from Sept. 1851, to Sept. 1852, &c. &c. That letter

was transmitted to the jailer-a man whose character and integrity is

well known, and above reproach in Charleston-with a request that he

would make out his report. He drew up his report in accordance with the

calendar and the facts, but that report was not submitted. Why was it

not submitted? Simply because it showed the profit of starving men in

South Carolina prisons.

We have the evidence in our possession, and can show the Executive that

he has been misled. We only ask him to call for the original statement,

made out in the jailer's handwriting, and compare it with the calendar;

and when he has done that, let us ask, Why the average of prisoners per

month does not correspond? and why the enormous amount of fees accruing

from upward of fifty “colored seamen,” imprisoned during the year, and

entered upon the calendar “contrary to law,” was not included?

It is a very unhealthy state of things, to say the least; but as the

sheriff considers it his own, perhaps we have no right to meddle with

it.

All this clamor about the bad influence of “colored seamen” is kept up

by a set of mendicant officials who harvest upon the fees, and falls

to naught, when, at certain hours of the day during their imprisonment,

they are allowed to associate with “bad niggers,” committed for criminal

offences and sale. If their presence is “dangerous,” it certainly would

be more dangerous in its connection with criminals of the feared class.

Take away the fees--the mercantile community will not murmur, and

the official gentry will neither abuse nor trouble themselves about

enforcing the law to imprison freemen.