“Just what I wanted to know,” said the Captain. “As I informed you, I am driven into your port in distress. Charleston, as you are aware, is in an advantageous latitude for vessels to refit that have met with those disasters which, are frequent in the gulf and among the Bahamas. Thus I expected to find good facilities here, without any unkind feeling on the part of the people”—
“Oh! bless me, Captain, you will find us the most hospitable people in the world,” said the Colonel.
“But your pilot told me I would have trouble with my steward, and that the law would make no distinction between his being cast upon your shores in distress and subject to your sympathy, and his coming in voluntarily.”
“What!” said little George. “Is he a nigger, Captain? Old Grimshaw's just as sure to nab him as you're a white man. He'll buy and sell a saint for the fees, and gives such an extended construction to the terms of the act that you need expect no special favor at his hands. The law's no fiction with him. I'm sorry, Captain: you may judge his conduct as an index of that of our people, and I know him so well that I fear the consequences.”
“No!” said the Captain. “My steward is a Portuguese, a sort of mestino, and one of the best men that ever stepped foot aboard a vessel. He is willing, intelligent, always ready to do his duty, and is a great favorite with his shipmates, and saves his wages like a good man-but he is olive complexion, like a Spaniard. He has sailed under the British flag for a great many years, has been 'most all over the world, and is as much attached to the service as if he was a Londoner, and has got a register ticket. Nothing would pain my feelings more than to see him in a prison, for I think he has as proud a notion of honesty as any man I've seen, and I know he wouldn't commit a crime that would subject him to imprisonment for the world. The boys have been pestering the poor fellow, and telling him about some old fellow they heard the pilot speak about, called Norman Gadsden; they tell him if he catches him they'll sell him for a slave.”
“The question is one about which you need give yourself no concern. Our people are not so inhuman but that they will shelter a castaway sailor, and extend those comforts which are due from all humane people. The act under which seamen are imprisoned is the law provided to prohibit free niggers from entering our port, and, in my opinion, was brought into life for the sake of the fees. It's no more nor less than a tax and restriction upon commerce, and I doubt whether it was ever the intention of the framers that it should be construed in this manner. However, so far as your steward is con-cerned, the question of how far his color will make him amenable to the law will never be raised; the mere circumstance of his being a seaman in distress, thrown upon our sympathies, will be all you need among our hospitable people. I'm not aware of a precedent, but I will guaranty his safety from a knowledge of the feelings of our people. Our merchants are, with few exceptions, opposed to the law in this sense, but such is the power and control of a class of inexperienced legislators, prompted by a most trifling clique of office-holders, that their voice has no weight. I am opposed to this system of dragging people into courts of law upon every pretext. It is practised too much in our city for the good of its name.”
Upon this the Colonel and little George accompanied the Captain to his ship, and, expressing their heartfelt regrets at her appearance, bid him good-night-George promising to call upon him in the morning, and the Colonel charging him to give himself no trouble about his steward, that he would see Mr. Grimshaw that night, and make all things straight.
Thus ended the Captain's first night in Charleston, and represented a picture from which he might have drawn conclusions somewhat different from the actual result. Alas! that all the good fellowship and pleasant associations of a people should be disgraced by an absurdity arising from their fears.
The Colonel might have given many other instances equally as painful as that connected with the transportation of Jones and his family, and the fetters that were placed upon poor Lee. He might have instanced that of Malcome Brown, a wealthy, industrious, honest, high-minded, and straightforward man, now living at Aiken, in South Carolina. Brown conducts a profitable mechanical business, is unquestionably the best horticulturist in the State, and produces the best fruit brought to the Charleston market. What has he done to be degraded in the eyes of the law? Why is he looked upon as a dangerous citizen and his influence feared? Why is he refused a hearing through those laws which bad white men take the advantage of? He is compelled to submit to those which were made to govern the worst slaves! And why is he subjected to that injustice which gives him no voice in his own behalf when the most depraved whites are his accusers? Can it be the little crimp that is in his hair? for he has a fairer skin than those who make laws to oppress him. If he inhaled the free atmosphere from abroad, can it be that there is contagion in it, and Malcome Brown is the dreaded medium of its communication? And if the statement rung in our ears be true, “that the free colored of the North suffer while the slave is cared for and comfortable,” why belie ourselves? Malcome's influence is, and always has been, with the whites, and manifestly good in the preservation of order and obedience on the part of the slaves. He pursues his avocation with spirit and enterprise, while he is subjected to menial and oppressive laws. His father visited New York, and was forbidden to return. He appealed again and again, set forth his claims and his integrity to the State and her laws, but all was of no avail. He was hopelessly banished, as it were, from ever seeing his son again, unless that son would sacrifice his property and submit to perpetual banishment from the State. If we reflect upon the many paternal associations that would gladden the hearts of father and child to meet in happy affection, we may realize the effect of that law which makes the separation painful and which denies even the death-bed scene its last cheering consolation.
We have conversed with poor Brown on many occasions, found him a very intelligent man, full of humour, and fond of relating incidents in the history of his family-even proud of his good credit in Charleston. He frequently speaks of his father and the gratifying hope of meeting him at some future day, when he can give vent to his feelings in bursts of affection. He wants his father to return and live with him, because he says he knows they would be more happy together. “I suppose the law was made in justice, and it's right for me to submit to it,” he would say when conversing upon its stringency; and it also seems a sort of comfort to him that he is not the only sufferer.