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.”