“The matter’s just this, Mr. Atkins,” broke in the sailor, coming toward him, and flinging himself into a chair. “Soliman, cargo, and all is right. There’s nothing the matter with them”—
“Then what is the matter?” demanded the merchant, angrily.
“The matter’s this, Mr. Atkins,” roared Bangham, pounding his knees with his clenched hands. “When we were three days out we found a blasted nigger, half smothered in the hold. And that nigger belongs to Torwood Lafitte, and you’ve got him down-stairs to dine with you. Yes, sir, I’ve got the nigger tied up aboard the brig this minute, and you’ve got his master.”
Mr. Atkins turned white, and sat looking at the sailor with rigid lips.
“Yes, sir. That’s the matter,” continued Bangham. “And matter enough, too, Mr. Atkins. Just think of what Lafitte’ll say if he hears that his nigger got off on your brig. Just think of the row there’ll be in Orleans if it gets out. They’ll seize me for it, if the brig ever touches the levee again, Mr. Atkins.”
“She’ll touch the levee again with that scoundrel on board of her,” shouted the merchant, with an oath, thrusting his thumbs into the arm-holes of his vest, and swelling proudly. “They shall know in New Orleans that we’re law-abiding citizens, Bangham. Back he shall go, and it will redound to the credit of the house when it’s known that we sent him back promptly. I’m glad you came to tell me this, Bangham. Just keep it quiet. He shall go back just as soon as the Soliman can get ready for the return voyage.”
“All right, sir,” replied the sailor. “But, Mr. Atkins, we’ve got him here now in Boston Bay, and how are we going to take him back without going to law about it? Hadn’t Lafitte better bring him before a Commissioner, and have a certificate made out”—
“No,” interrupted the merchant, with strenuous emphasis. “I’ll have it said in New Orleans that a Boston merchant can show his devotion to the interests of the South without any ridiculous formalities. It’ll strike them well, Bangham, and raise our credit there. Besides, if we go before the Commissioner, those infernal Abolitionists will have another long fuss about it, as they had about Sims, and who knows but that they’ll rescue him as they did Shadrach. No, I’ll make sure work of it. If the black villain were to escape, the effect on my trade would be as bad in New Orleans as if I hadn’t done my best to return him, and I won’t have my trade injured. Business before everything. I’m not going to have the delay of the law, nor the risks either, in this matter. So just hold on to the black reprobate, Bangham, till we can return him.”
“It’s rather risky, Mr. Atkins,” demurred the sailor. “You know it’s illegal, sir, to take off the man without due process of law, and if the Grand Jury gets hold of it, they’ll be apt to indict you for kidnapping.”
“Indict me?” returned the merchant. “Ho, ho, Bangham,” he laughed, “you’re verdant, my man. There’s not a Grand Jury would ever find a bill against me for that, Bangham. Why, bless your soul, Bangham, the Grand Jury’s made up of our most respectable citizens—property holders every man of them—Fugitive Slave Law men to the backbone—and do you think they’d indict me for an act in the very spirit of the Compromise Measures, and for the best interests of our Southern commerce? Oh, no, Bangham! There’s not one of them that wouldn’t wink at it—not one. No fear about the Grand Jury, captain, not the least in the world. But you haven’t told me how this black wretch got aboard.”