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.