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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



CHAPTER XVIII. LITTLE TOMMY AND THE POLICE.



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What has he done?" inquired the officer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



CHAPTER XX. EMEUTE AMONG THE STEWARDS.



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Manuel Pereira?" inquired the jailer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"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.