If South Carolina would awake to her own interest, she would find more to fear from the stringency of her own laws than from the influence of a few men coming from abroad.
CHAPTER X. THE PROSPECT DARKENING.
AFTER the Colonel and little George left the Captain, as we have stated in the foregoing chapter, he descended into the cabin, and found Manuel sitting upon one of the lockers, apparently in great anxiety. He, however, waited for the mate to speak before he addressed the Captain. The mate awoke and informed the Captain that a slender, dark-complexioned man had been aboard a few minutes after he left, making particular inquiries about the steward; that he spoke like an official man, was dressed in black clothes, and wore spectacles.
“I asked him if we'd have any trouble with Manuel, and tried to make him understand that he wasn't a black, and that our situation might excuse us from any annoyance through their peculiar laws. But the old chap seemed mighty stupid about every thing, and talked just as if he didn't know any thing about nothing. 'A nigger's a nigger in South Carolina,' said he dryly, and inquired for a quid of tobacco, which I handed him, and he took one big enough for six. Said I, 'Mister, do you call a man a nigger what's a Portugee and a'n't black?' 'It depends on how he was born,' says he. 'Well, but ye can't make a white man a nigger nohow, whether it's in South Carolina or Scotland,' says I. 'Well, we don't stand upon such things here; we can show you niggers as white as you be, Mr. Mate,' says he. 'But, Mister, what's to do about our steward, that ye make yer inquiries about him; he ha'n't did nothing,' said I. 'Well, Mr. Mate; it's contrary to law to bring nigger stewards into our port. They're a bad set of fellows generally, and we claim the right to lock 'em up to insure their good behavior and keep their bad influence away from our slaves. 'Tis not my office. I observed your arrival and wrecked condition, and merely came to take a look,' said he. 'Well now, Mister, our steward thinks as much of himself as anybody and wouldn't mix with your niggers on any account. But Mister! won't it make a difference because we're cast upon your shore in distress,' says I. 'Not a whit! it's contrary to law, and the law's got nothing to do with wind and weather. We love the sovereignty of our law too well to make any discrimination. We're a hospitable people, and always give folks plenty to eat, but we never allow any favors in the law. I'll call and see you in the morning,' said he, and away he went.”
This individual was Mr. Grimshaw, the principal mover of the powers that be, notwithstanding he asserted that it was not his office, and that he just walked round to take a look.
During his visit on board, Manuel was absent on board a Boston bark, where he met a white steward, who gave him a sad picture of the Charleston jail and the cruel treatment that was inflicted upon prisoners there by starvation. He told him that he was once put in for a trifling offence, and nearly starved to death before he got out. “You will be sure to go there, Manuel,” said he, “for they make no distinction; and if a man's a foreigner, and can't speak for himself, he'll stand no chance at all. I'd give 'em the slip afore I'd suffer such another punishment,” he continued.
This so worked upon the poor fellow's mind, that it became a matter of little moment whether he jumped overboard or remained on the ship. He waited until the mate had concluded, and commenced appealing to the Captain in a most pitiful manner. The disgrace of being imprisoned seemed worse than the punishment; and he did not seem to comprehend the intention that he should be imprisoned for no crime in the United States, when he had sailed around the world and visited a majority of its ports, both barbarous and civilized, without molestation. He wanted the Captain to pay him off and let him leave by some vessel in the morning. The Captain endeavored to soothe his fears by assuring him that there was no danger of his being imprisoned; that the people of Charleston had too much good feeling in them to be cruel to a distressed sailor; that the power of the consul was a sufficient guarantee of protection. “You are not among Patagonians, Manuel,” said he. “There's no use of working your mind into a fever, you'll be as well taken care of here and be thought as much of as you would in London.” This assurance had the effect to soothe his mind, upon which he left the cabin more at ease, and went into the forecastle to turn in with his little companion Tommy. Men had been detailed for the pumps as soon as the flood-tide made, and the Captain retired to his berth.
It seemed there was a mutual understanding between the pilots and officers in regard to the arrival of colored stewards; and the pilot, after leaving the vessel, went directly to Mr. Grimshaw's office and reported a nut for him to crack: this brought him to the wharf to “look around.”
Early in the morning the crew were at their duty. The mate commenced giving orders to clear away the deck, and Manuel to make preparations for breakfast. He had scarcely commenced before two men, Messrs. Dunn and Dusenberry walked up and down the wharf for several minutes, then they would stand together and gaze as if to watch the approach of some vessel in the offing. At length, Dusenberry, seeing Manuel come to the gangway with a bucket in his hand, walked to her side, and, stepping on board, seized him by the collar, and drawing a paper from his pocket, said, “You're my prisoner! you must go to jail-come, be quick, sir; you must not stop to get your things; you must send for them after you're committed.”