A few hours after the capture of the schooner, we set sail for Charleston, where the brig was bound. We reached that port in ten days. The pirate crew were immediately lodged in jail. I underwent an examination, and was then taken into custody, it being evident, from my own confession, that I had not been forced on board the schooner. Elizabeth, to whom I had hourly become more devoted during the voyage, found an asylum in the house of a distant relation, who resided in Charleston, and was summoned as a witness against the negroes. In three weeks their trial came on, and Manuel and seven others were condemned to death. No evidence having appeared against me, I was liberated from confinement at an early period, by the intercession of several persons who appeared to take an interest in my fate. I supplied myself with means of support, by disposing of some valuables I had in my possession.
I was filled with sorrow when I heard that Manuel was condemned to death, aware that he deserved a better fate. I visited him in jail, the day after he had received his sentence. He was loaded with fetters, and occupied a small cell by himself, through which he paced as quickly as the weight of his irons would permit; though he had a subdued look, the expression of his countenance was neither abject nor sorrowful.
“Ah, is it you, sir?” cried he, advancing towards me, as I entered; “you are the person I most wished to see. How kind it is in you to visit a poor negro! For I am no more now. I am glad to be treated as a rational creature by at least one white man. I wonder they have let you escape. In this country it is a crime for a man to have anything to do with blacks, except in the way of flogging them.”—“You do not deserve to die,” said I, after a pause.—“Oh, perhaps not,” returned he; “but law—law—law, you know—however, ’tis better I should. I had a weary life of it. I was chased from the land, and took refuge upon the sea; but, notwithstanding that, I could not escape the blood-hounds of the Southern States of America. But here I have written out something for you. Take this letter to Gustavus H——, and accept what he gives you in return, as a remembrance of me. But don’t tell him that I’m sentenced to death.” He then presented me with a paper, and having given directions where I should find the person to whom it was addressed, bid me farewell.
I immediately proceeded in search of Manuel’s acquaintance, and after some time reached his house, which was situated in the most obscure part of a narrow and dirty alley. The door was opened by an old negro, and I inquired if Gustavus H—— lived there. “I am the man,” returned he; “walk in, master.” I entered, and gave him the letter, and at his request seated myself upon an old stool in one corner of the apartment until he read it. “Strange, very strange,” muttered he, gazing on me intently. “How is Mr Manuel?”—“Well enough at present,” returned I; “but——.” He stood still a moment, as if waiting the conclusion of my reply, and then went out of the room, but soon came back, carrying a bag, which he immediately put into my hands. Its weight was immense. “That’s all,” said he, “I guess Manuel don’t intend that I should be his bankeer long. Good morning, sir.”
When I returned to my lodgings, I opened the bag, and, to my astonishment, found it full of doubloons. I could not believe that Manuel intended leaving me such a legacy, and went to the prison in the afternoon, that I might see him, and converse with him upon the subject; but I arrived there too late; he had anticipated the law by putting a period to his existence.
Fortune had now bestowed upon me the means of returning to my native country. I communicated this to Elizabeth, and entreated that we might make the journey of life together. She consented, and our mutual happiness was soon as great as our individual misery had been, when fate first brought us together.