MANUEL PEREIRA
or, The Sovereign Rule of South Carolina.
With Views Of Southern Laws, Life, And Hospitality.
By F. C. Adams.
Written In Charleston, South Carolina. Washington, D. C.:
1853.
CONTENTS
[ INTRODUCTION. ]
[ MANUEL PEREIRA. ]
[ CHAPTER I. ] THE UNLUCKY SHIP
[ CHAPTER II. ] THE STEWARD'S BRAVERY
[ CHAPTER III. ] THE SECOND STORM
[ CHAPTER IV. ] THE CHARLESTON POLICE
[ CHAPTER V. ] MR. GRIMSHAW, THE MAN OF THE COUNTY
[ CHAPTER VI. ] THE JANSON IN THE OFFING
[ CHAPTER VII. ] ARRIVAL OF THE JANSON
[ CHAPTER VIII. ] A NEW DISH OF SECESSION
[ CHAPTER VIII. ] A FEW POINTS OF THE LAW
[ CHAPTER X. ] THE PROSPECT DARKENING
[ CHAPTER XI. ] THE SHERIFF'S OFFICE
[ CHAPTER XII. ] THE OLD JAIL
[ CHAPTER XIII. ] HOW IT IS
[ CHAPTER XIV. ] MANUEL PEREIRA COMMITTED
[ CHAPTER XV. ] THE LAW'S INTRICACY
[ CHAPTER XVI. ] PLEA OF JUST CONSIDERATION AND MISTAKEN CONSTANCY
[ CHAPTER XVII. ] LITTLE GEORGE, THE CAPTAIN, AND MR. GRIMSHAW
[ CHAPTER XVIII. ] LITTLE TOMMY AND THE POLICE
[ CHAPTER XIX. ] THE NEXT MORNING, AND THE MAYOR'S VERDICT
[ CHAPTER XX. ] EMEUTE AMONG THE STEWARDS
[ CHAPTER XXI. ] THE CAPTAIN'S INTERVIEW WITH MR. GRIMSHAW
[ CHAPTER XXII. ] COPELAND'S RELEASE, AND MANUEL'S CLOSE CONFINEMENT
[ CHAPTER XXIII. ] IMPRISONMENT OF JOHN PAUL, AND JOHN BAPTISTE PAMERLIE
[ CHAPTER XXIV. ] THE JANSON CONDEMNED
[ CHAPTER XXV. ] GEORGE THE SECESSIONIST, AND HIS FATHER'S SHIPS
[ CHAPTER XXVI. ] A SINGULAR RECEPTION
[ CHAPTER XXVII. ] THE HABEAS CORPUS
[ CHAPTER XXVIII. ] THE CAPTAIN'S DEPARTURE AND MANUEL'S RELEASE
[ CHAPTER XXIX. ] MANUEL'S ARRIVAL IN NEW YORK
[ CHAPTER XXX. ] THE SCENE OF ANGUISH
[ CONCLUSION. ]
[ APPENDIX. ]
INTRODUCTION.
OUR generous friends in Georgia and South Carolina will not add among their assumptions that we know nothing of the South and Southern life. A residence of several years in those States, a connection with the press, and associations in public life, gave us opportunities which we did not lose, and have not lost sight of; and if we dipped deeper into the vicissitudes of life and law than they gave us credit for at the time, we trust they will pardon us, on the ground of interest in the welfare of the South.
Perhaps we should say, to support the true interests of the South, we should and must abandon many of those errors we so strenuously supported in years past; and thus we have taken up the subject of our book, based upon the practical workings of an infamous law, which we witnessed upon the individual whose name forms a part of the title.
Imprisoning a shipwrecked sailor, and making it a penal offence for a freeman to come within the limits of a republican State, whether voluntarily or involuntarily, seems to be considered commonplace, instead of barbarous in South Carolina. This may be accounted for by the fact that the power of a minority, created in wrong, requiring barbarous expedients to preserve itself intact, becomes an habitual sentiment, which usage makes right.
This subject has been treated with indifference, even by the press, which has satisfied itself in discussing the abstract right as a question of law, rather than by disclosing the sufferings of those who endure the wrong and injustice. When we are called upon to support, and are made to suffer the penalty of laws founded in domestic fear, and made subservient to various grades of injustice, it becomes our duty to localize the wrong, and to point out the odium which attaches to the State that enacts such laws of oppression.
A “peculiar-institution” absorbs and takes precedence of every thing; its protection has become a sacred element of legislative and private action; and fair discussion is looked upon as ominous, and proclaimed as incendiary. But we speak for those who owe no allegiance to that delicate institution; citizens to all intents and, purposes (notwithstanding their dark skins) of the countries to which they severally belong; peaceable persons, pursuing their avocations, to provide a respectable maintenance for their families, and worthy of the same protective rights claimed by the more fortunate citizens of such countries. In doing this we shall give a practical illustration of the imprisonment of four individuals in South Carolina, and ask those who speculate in the abstract science of State sovereignty, to reflect upon the issue of that lamentable injustice which inflicts punishment upon persons guiltless of crime. We prefer to be plain, and we know our Southern friends will not accuse us of misconstruction, for we have their interests at heart, as well as the cause of humanity, which we shall strive to promote, in spite of the struggles of modern barbarism, seeking to perpetuate itself. Fear, the inventor of such pretexts as are set up, and mantled in Southern modesty, must remodel its code for South Carolinians, before it can assert a power unknown to law, or trample upon the obligations of treaty, or enforce nullification of individual rights.
CHARLESTON, S. C., July 17,1852.
MANUEL PEREIRA.
CHAPTER I. THE UNLUCKY SHIP.
THE British brig Janson, Thompson, master, laden with sugar, pimento, &c. &c. left Kingston, Jamaica, in the early part of March, in the present year, bound for Glasgow. The skipper, who was a genuine son of the “Land o' Cakes,” concluded to take the inside passage, and run through the gulf. This might have been questioned by seamen better acquainted with the windward passage; but as every Scotchman likes to have his own way, the advice of the first officer—an experienced salt in the West India waters—went to leeward. On rounding Cape Antoine, it was evident that a strong blow was approaching. The clouds hung their dark curtains in threatening blackness; and, as the sharp flashes of lightning inflamed the gloomy scene, the little bark seemed like a speck upon the bosom of the sea. It was the first mate's watch on deck. The wind, then blowing from the W.S.W., began to increase and veer into the westward; from whence it suddenly chopped into the northward. The mate paced the quarter wrapt in his fearnought jacket, and at every turn giving a glance aloft, then looking at the compass, and again to the man at the wheel, as if he had an instinct of what was coming.
He was a fearless navigator, yet, like many others who had yielded to the force of habit, was deeply imbued with that prevalent superstition so common to sailors, which regards a particular ship as unlucky. Imagine an old-fashioned boatswain, with north-country features strongly marked, a weather-beaten face, and a painted south-wester on his head, and you have the “Mister Mate” of the old brig Janson.
“Keep her full, my hearty. We must take in our light sails and go on the other tack soon. If we don't catch it before daylight, I'll miss my calculation. She's an unlucky old craft as ever I sailed in, and if the skipper a'n't mighty careful, he'll never get her across. I've sworn against sailing in her several times, but if I get across in her this time, I'll bid her good-by; and if the owners don't give me a new craft, they may get somebody else. We're just as sure to have bad luck as if we had cats and parsons aboard.”
Thus saying, he descended the companion-way, and reported the appearance of the weather to the skipper, who arose quickly, and, consulting his barometer, found it had fallen to near the lowest scale. After inquiring the quarter of the wind, and how she headed, what sail she was carrying, and the probable distance from the cape, he gave orders to call all hands to take in the topgallant-sails, double reef the fore, and single reef the maintop-sails, and stow the flying-jib—dressed himself, and came on deck. Just as he put his head above the slide of the companion, and stopped for a minute with his hands resting upon the sides, a vivid flash of lightning hung its festoons of fire around the rigging, giving it the appearance of a chain of livid flame.
“We'll catch the but-end of a gulf sneezer soon. Tell the boys to bear a hand with them sails. We must get her snug, and stand by to lay her under a double-reefed maintop-sail and jib, with her head to the northward and eastward. We may make a clear drift—chance if it lasts long,” said Skipper Thompson, as he stood surveying the horizon and his craft. Scarcely had he given the orders before the storm burst upon them with all its fury. Its suddenness can only be appreciated by those who have sailed in the West India passages, where the sudden shocks of the short-chopping sea acts with a tremendous strain upon the hull of a heavy-laden vessel. The captain ran to the windward gangway, hurrying his men in the discharge of their duty, and giving another order to clew up the coursers and foretop-sail. Just as the men had executed the first, and were about to pull on the clew-lines of the latter, a sudden gust took effect upon the bag of the sail and carried it clean from the bolt-ropes. The halyards were lowered and the yards properly braced up, while the Janson was brought to under the canvas we have before described. In a few minutes more the wind had increased to a gale, and, as the sailors say, several times the old craft “wouldn't look at it.” Several times we had to put her helm up, and as many times she shipped those forcing cross seas which drive every thing before them, and sweep the decks. At length a piece of canvas was lashed to the fore-rigging which gave her a balance, and she rode easy until about five o'clock in the morning, when by a sudden broach the canvas was carried away, and a tremendous sharp sea boarded her forward; starting several stanchions, carrying away part of her starboard bulwark and rail, and simultaneously the foretop-gallant-mast, which snapped just above the withe. As a natural consequence, every thing was in the utmost confusion—the old hull worked in every timber. The wreck swayed to and fro, retarding the working of the vessel and endangering the lives of those who attempted to clear it from obstruction. Thus she remained for more than half an hour, nearly on her beam-ends, and at the mercy of each succeeding sea that threatened to engulf her.
As daylight broke, the wind lulled, and, as usual in those waters, the sea soon ran down. Enabled to take the advantage of daylight, they commenced to clear away the wreck. In the mean time it was found necessary to remove the fore-hatch in order to get out some spare sails that had been stowed away near the forward bulkhead, instead of a more appropriate place. The mate, after trying the pumps in the early part of the gale, reported that she had started a leak; which, however, was so trifling as to require but one man to keep her free, until she broached, and carried away her topgallant-mast. The man on duty then reported the water increasing, and another was ordered to assist him. On an examination in the morning, it was found that she was strained in the fore-channels, and had started a but.
“She's an unlucky concern, skipper,” said the mate as he brought the axe to take the battons off the forehatch. “A fellow might as well try to work a crab at low tide as to keep her to it in a blow like that. She minds her helm like a porpoise in the breakers. Old Davy must have put his mark upon her some time, but I never know'd a lucky vessel to be got as she was. She makes a haul on the underwriters every time she drifts across; for I never knew her to sail clear since I shipped in the old tub. If she was mine, I'd find a place for her at somebody's expense.”
The sea became smooth, the water was found to have receded, the wind, light, had hauled to W.S.W., and Cape Antoine was judged by dead reckoning to bear S.S.W. about thirty miles distant. The larboard fore-shrouds were found to have been scorched by the lightning, which had completely melted the tar from the after-shroud. All hands were now busily employed repairing the wreck, which by two o'clock P.M. they had got so far completed as to stand on their course in the gulf, at the rate of six knots an hour.
The skipper now consulted in his mind as to the expediency of making for Havana or proceeding on his cruise. The leak had materially diminished, and, like all old vessels, though she gave a good portion of work at the pumps, a continuation of good weather might afford an opportunity to shove her across. Under these feelings, he was inclined to give the preference to his hopes rather than yield to his fears. He considered the interest of all concerned—consulted his mate, but found him governed by his superstition, and looking upon the issue of his life about as certain whether he jumped overboard or “stuck by the old tub.” He considered again the enormous port-charges imposed in Havana, the nature of his cargo in regard to tariff, should his vessel be condemned, and the ruinous expenses of discharging, &c. &c. together with the cost of repairs, providing they were ordered. All these things he considered with the mature deliberation of a good master, who has the general interests of all concerned at heart. So, if he put away for a port, in consideration of all concerned, his lien for general average would have strong ground in maritime law; yet there were circumstances connected with the sea-worthy condition of the craft—known to himself, if not to the port-wardens, and which are matters of condition between the master and his owners—which might, upon certain technicalities of law, give rise to strong objectionable points. With all these glancing before him, he, with commendable prudence, resolved to continue his voyage, and trust to kind Providence for the best.
“Captain,” said the mate, as he stood viewing the prospect, with a marlinespike in one hand and a piece of seizing in the other—“I verily think, if that blow had stuck to us two hours longer, the old tub would a' rolled her futtocks out. Ye don't know her as well as I do. She's unlucky, anyhow; and always has been since she sot upon the water. I've seen her top-sides open like a basket when we've been trying to work her into port in heavy weather: and a craft that won't look nearer than nine points close-hauled, with a stiff breeze, ought to be sent into the Clyde for a coal-droger. An old vessel's a perfect pickpocket to owners; and if this old thing hasn't opened their purses as bad as her own seams, I'll miss my reckonin'. I've had a strong foreknowledge that we wouldn't get across in her. I saw the rats leaving in Jamaica—taking up their line of march, like marines on the fore. It's a sure sign. And then I'd a dream, which is as sure as a mainstay—never deceives me. I can depend on its presentiment. I have dreamed it several times, and we always had an awful passage. Twice we come within a bobstay of all goin' to Old Davy's store-house. I once escaped it, after I'd had my mysterious dream; but then I made the cook throw the cat overboard just after we left port, and 'twas all that saved us.”
Thus saying, he went forward to serve a topgallant-stay that was stretched across the forecastle-hatch from the cat-heads, and had just been spliced by the men, followed by an old-fashioned sea-urchin, a miniature of the tar, with a mallet in his hand. The captain, although a firm, intelligent man, and little given to such notions of fate as are generally entertained by sailors, who never shake off the spiritual imaginings of the forecastle, displayed some discomfiture of mind at the strong character of the mate's misgivings. He knew him to be a good sailor, firm in his duty, and unmoved by peril. This he had proved on several occasions when sailing in other vessels, when the last ray of hope seemed to be gone. He approached the mate again, and with a pretence of making inquiries about the storage of the cargo, sounded him further in regard to his knowledge of the Bahamas, and with special reference to the port of Nassau.
“Six-tenths of her timbers are as rotten as punk,” said the mate; “this North American timber never lasts long; the pump-wells are defective, and when we carry sail upon her, they don't affect the water in the lee-bilge, and she rolls it through her air-streaks like a whale. She'll damage the best cargo that ever floated, in that way. Take my word for it, skipper, she'll never go across the Banks; she'll roll to splinters as soon as she gets into them long seas; and if we get dismasted again, it's gone Davy.”
“I know the old scow before to-day, and wouldn't shipped in her, if I hadn't been lime-juiced by that villanous landlord that advanced me the trifle. But I seen she was as deep as a luggerman's sand-barge, and I popped the old cat overboard, just as we rounded the point coming out o' Kingston harbour,” said a fine, active-looking sailor, who bore every trait of a royal tar, and boasted of serving five years in the East-India service, to his shipmate, while he continued to serve the stay. His words were spoken in a whisper, and not intended for the captain's ears. The captain overheard him, however; and, as a vessel is a world to those on board, the general sentiment carries its weight in controlling its affairs. Thus the strong feeling which prevailed on board could not fail to have its effect upon the captain's mind.
“Well, we'll try her at any rate,” said the captain, walking aft and ordering the cabin-boy to bring up his glass; with which he took a sharp look to the southward.
“I'd shape her course for a southern Yankee port. I haven't been much in them, but I think we'll stand a better chance there than in these ports where they make a speculation of wrecking, and would take a fellow's pea-jacket for salvage.” “We're always better under the protection of a consul than in a British port,” said the mate, coming aft to inform the skipper that they had carried away the chains of the bobstay, and that the bowsprit strained her in the knight-heads.
CHAPTER II. THE STEWARD'S BRAVERY.
DURING the worst of the gale, a mulatto man, with prominent features, indicating more of the mestino than negro character, was moving in busy occupation about the deck, and lending a willing hand with the rest of the crew to execute the captain's orders. He was rather tall, well formed, of a light olive complexion, with dark, piercing eyes, a straight, pointed nose, and well-formed mouth. His hair, also, had none of that crimp so indicative of negro extraction, but lay in dark curls all over his head. As he answered to the captain's orders, he spoke in broken accents, indicating but little knowledge of the English language. From the manner in which the crew treated him, it was evident that he was an established favourite with them as well as the officers, for each appeared to treat him more as an equal than a menial. He laboured cheerfully at sailor's duty until the first sea broke over her, when, seeing that the caboose was in danger of being carried from the lashings, and swept to leeward in the mass of wreck, he ran for that all-important apartment, and began securing it with extra lashings. He worked away with an earnestness that deserved all praise; not with the most satisfactory effect for an angry sea immediately succeeding completely stripped the furnace of its woodwork, and in its force carried the gallant fellow among its fragments into the lee-scuppers, where he saved himself from going overboard only by clinging to a stanchion.
The second mate, a burly old salt, ran to his assistance, but, before he reached him, our hero had recovered himself, and was making another attempt to reach his coppers. It seemed to him as much a pending necessity to save the cooking apparatus as it did the captain to save the ship.
“He no catch me dis time,” said he to the mate, smiling as he lifted his drenched head from among the fragments of the wreck. “I fix a de coffee in him yet, please God.”
After securing the remains of his cooking utensils, he might be seen busily employed over a little stove, arranged at the foot of the stairs that led to the cabin. The smoke from the funnel several times annoyed the captain, who laboured under the excitement consequent upon the confusion of the wreck and peril of his vessel, bringing forth remonstrances of no very pleasant character. It proved that the good steward was considering how he could best serve Jack's necessities; and while they were laboring to save the ship, lie was studiously endeavoring to anticipate the craving of their stomachs. For when daylight appeared and the storm subsided, the steward had a bountiful dish of hot coffee to relieve Jack's fatigued system. It was received with warm welcome, and many blessings were heaped upon the head of the steward; A good “doctor” is as essential for the interests of owners and crew as a good captain. So it proved in this instance, for while he had a careful regard for the stores, he never failed to secure the praises of the crew.
“When I gib de stove fire, den me gib de Cap-i-tan, wid de crew, some good breakfas,” said he with a gleam of satisfaction.
This individual, reader, was Manuel Pereira, or, as he was called by his shipmates, Pe-rah-re. Manuel was born in Brazil, an extract of the Indians and Spanish, claiming birthright of the Portuguese nation. It mattered but very little to Manuel where he was born, for he had been so long tossed about in his hardy vocation that he had almost become alienated from the affections of birthplace. He had sailed so long under the protection of the main-jack of old England that he had formed a stronger allegiance to that country than to any other. He had sailed under it with pride, had pointed to its emblem, as if he felt secure, when it was unfurled, that the register-ticket which that government had given him was a covenant between it and himself; that it was a ticket to incite him to good behavior in a foreign country; and that the flag was sure to protect his rights, and insure, from the government to which he sailed respect and hospitality. He had sailed around the world under it—visited savage and semi-civilized nations—had received the hospitality of cannibals, had joined in the merry dance with the Otaheitian, had eaten fruits with the Hottentots, shared the coarse morsel of the Greenlander, been twice chased by the Patagonians—but what shall we say?—he was imprisoned, for the olive tints of his color, in a land where not only civilization rules in its brightest conquests, but chivalry and honor sound its fame within the lanes, streets, and court-yards. Echo asks, Where—where? We will tell the reader. That flag which had waved over him so long and in so many of his wayfarings—that flag which had so long boasted its rule upon the wave, and had protected him among the savage and the civilized, found a spot upon this wonderful globe where it ceased to do so, unless he could change his skin.
CHAPTER III. THE SECOND STORM.
ON the fourth night succeeding the perilous position of the Janson off Cape Antoine, the brig was making about seven knots, current of the gulf included. The sun had set beneath heavy radiant clouds, which rolled up like masses of inflamed matter, reflecting in a thousand mellow shades, and again spreading their gorgeous shadows upon the rippled surface of the ocean, making the picture serene and grand.
As darkness quickly followed, these beautiful transparencies of a West-India horizon gradually changed into murky-looking monitors, spreading gloom in the sombre perspective. The moon was in its second quarter, and was rising on the earth. The mist gathered thicker and thicker as she ascended, until at length she became totally obscured. The Captain sat upon the companion-way, anxiously watching the sudden change that was going on overhead; and, without speaking to any one, rose, took a glance at the compass, and then went forward to the lookout, charging him to keep a sharp watch, as they were not only in a dangerous channel, but in the track of vessels bound into and out of the gulf. After this, he returned amidship, where the little miniature salt we have described before lay, with his face downward, upon the main-hatch, and ordering him to bring the lead-line, he went to leeward and took a cast; and after paying out about twenty-five fathoms without sounding, hauled aboard again. The wind was southward and light. As soon as he had examined the lead he walked aft and ordered the sheets eased and the vessel headed two points farther off. This done, he went below, and shaking his barometer several times, found it had begun to fall very fast. Taking down his coast-chart, he consulted it very studiously for nearly half an hour, laying off an angle with a pair of dividers and scale, with mathematical minuteness; after which he pricked his course along the surface to a given point. This was intended as his course.
“Where do you make her, Captain?” said the mate, as he lay in his berth.
“We must be off the Capes—we must keep a sharp look out for them reefs. They are so deceptive that we'll be on to them before we know it. There's no telling by sounding. We may get forty fathoms one minute and strike the next. I've heard old West-India coasters say the white water was the best warning,” replied the Captain.
“I'm mighty afraid of that Carysfort reef, since I struck upon it in 1845. I was in a British schooner then, bound from Kingston, Jamaica, to New York. We kept a bright lookout, all the way through the passage, and yet struck, one morning just about day-light; and, five minutes before, we had sounded without getting bottom. When it cleared away, that we could see, there was two others like ourselves. One was the ship John Parker, of Boston, and the other was a 'long-shoreman. We had a valuable cargo on board, but the craft wasn't hurt a bit; and if the skipper—who was a little colonial man, not much acquainted with the judicial value of a wrecker's services—had a' taken my advice, he wouldn't got into the snarl he did at Key West, where they carried him, and charged him thirty-six hundred dollars for the job. Yes, and a nice little commission to the British consul for counting the doubloons, which, by-the-by, Skipper, belonged to that great house of Howland & Aspinwalls. They were right clever fellows, and it went into the general average account for the relief of the underwriters' big chest,” continued the mate.
“We must have all hands ready at the call,” said the Captain. “It looks dirty overhead, and I think we're going to catch it from the north-east to-night. If we do, our position is not as good as before. I don't feel afraid of her, if we only get clear of this infernal coast,” said the Skipper, as he rolled up his chart, and repaired on deck again.
During this time, Manuel, who, had given the crew some very acceptable hot cakes for supper, was sitting upon the windlass, earnestly engaged, with his broken English, recounting an adventure he had on the coast of Patagonia, a few years previous, while serving on board a whaleman, to a shipmate who sat at his left. It was one of those incidents which frequently occur to the men attached to vessels which visit that coast for the purpose of providing a supply of wood and water, and which would require too much space to relate here.
“Did you run, Manuel?” said the listening shipmate.
“What else did me do? If I no run, I'd not be here dis night, because I be make slave, or I be killed wid club. Patagonian don't care for flag—nor not'in' else—I trust—e my leg, an' he get to de boat jus' when cap-i-tan come to rescue.”
“Was you on board an Englishman then, Manuel?” inquired the shipmate.
“Yes, I'm always sail in English ship, because I can get protection from flag and consul, where I go—any part of globe,” said he.
“I never liked this sailing among barbarous nations; they've no respect for any flag, and would just as lief imprison an Englishman or an American as they would a dog. They're a set of wild barbarians, and if they kill a fellow, there's no responsibility for it. It's like a parcel of wolves chasing a lamb, and there's no finding them after they've killed it. But they give a fellow his rights in Old England and the States. A man's a man there, rich or poor, and his feelings are just as much his own as anybody's. It's a glorious thing, this civilization, and if the world keeps on, there'll be no danger of a fellow's being imprisoned and killed among these savages. They're a cowardly set, for nobody but cowards are afraid of their own actions. Men neither imprison nor kill strangers, that don't fear the injustice of their own acts. You may smoke that in your pipe, Manuel, for I've heard great men say so. But you'd been done making dough-nuts then, Manuel, if they'd got hold o' you.”
“Never catch Manuel among Patagonians, again; they not know what the flag be, nor they can't read de registrum ticket, if they know'd where England was,” said Manuel; and just as he was concluding the story of his adventure, the little sailor-boy put his arm around Manuel's waist, and, laying his head on his breast, fondled about him with an affectionate attachment. The little fellow had been a shipmate with Manuel on several voyages, and, through the kindness he had received at his hands, naturally formed an ardent attachment to him. Taking advantage of the good treatment, he knew how to direct his attention to the steward whenever he wanted a snack from the cabin-locker of that which was not allowed in the forecastle. After holding him for a minute, encircling his arm around the little fellow's shoulder, he arose, and saying, “I know what you want, Tommy,” proceeded to the cabin and brought him several little eatables that had been left at the captain's table.
The wind now began to veer and increase, her sails kept filling aback; and as often as the man at the helm kept her off, the wind would baffle him, until finding it would be necessary to go on the other tack, or make some change of course, he called the Captain. The moment the latter put his foot upon deck, he found his previous predictions were about to be verified. The rustling noise of the gulf, mingling its solemn sounds with the petrel-like music of that foreboding wind that “whistles through the shrouds,” awakened the more superstitious sensations of a sailor's heart. The clouds had gathered their sombre folds into potent conclaves, while the sparkling brine in her wake, seemed like a fiery stream, rolling its troubled foam upon the dark waters.
“Brace the yards up sharp-hard a-starboard!—and trim aft the sheets,” ordered the Captain, who had previously given the order, “All hands on deck!”
The order was scarcely executed, before the noise of the approaching gale was heard in the distance. All hands were ordered to shorten sail as quickly as possible; but before they could get aloft, it came upon them with such fury from E.N.E. as to carry away the foretop-mast and topgallant-mast, together with its sails, and the main-topgallant-mast with the sail. The foretop-mast, in going by the board, carried away the flying-jib-boom and flying-jibs. Thus the ill-fated Janson was doomed to another struggle for her floating existence. The sea began to rise and break in fearful power; the leak had already increased so, that two men were continually kept working the pumps. The crew, with commendable alacrity, cut away the wreck, which had been swaying to and fro, not only endangering the lives of those on board, but obstructing every attempt to get the vessel into any kind of working order. The main-sail had rent from the leash to the peak of the gaff, and was shaking into shreds. The starboard sheet of the maintop-sail was gone, and it had torn at the head from the bolt-rope, flying at every gust like the shreds of a muslin rag in a hail-storm. Without the government of her helm, she lay in the trough of the sea more like a log than a manageable mass. Sea after sea broke over her, carrying every thing before them at each pass. The officers and crew had now as much as they could do to retain their holds, without making any effort to save the wreck, while the men at the pumps could only work at each subsiding of the sea, and that under the disadvantage of being lashed to the frame. A more perilous position than that in which the old brig Janson now lay, it was impossible to imagine.
“'Tis the worst hurricane I've ever experienced upon the West India coast, Captain, but it's too furious to last long; and if she don't go to pieces before morning, I'll give her credit for what I've always swore against her. She can't keep afloat though, if it hangs on another hour in this way,” said the mate, who, with the Captain and Manuel, had just made an ineffectual attempt to rig a storm stay-sail, to try and lay her to under it. For the mate swore by his knowledge of her qualities, that to put her before it, would be certain foundering. The gale continued with unabated fury for about two hours, and stopped about as suddenly as it commenced. The work of destruction was complete, for from her water-line to the stump of the remaining spars, the Janson floated a complete wreck.
The captain gave orders to clear away the wreck, and get what little sail they could patch up, upon her, for the purpose of working her into the nearest port. The mate was not inclined to further the order, evidently laboring under the strong presentiment that she was to be their coffin. He advised that it was fruitless to stick by her any longer, or hazard an attempt to reach a port with her, in such a leaky and disabled condition. “If we don't abandon her, Skipper,” said he, “she'll abandon us. We'd better make signal for the first vessel, and bid the old coffin good-by.”
The captain was more determined in his resolution, and instead of being influenced by the mate's fears, continued his order, and the men went to work with a cheerful willingness. None seemed more anxious to lend a ready hand than Manuel, for in addition to is duties as steward, he had worked at sail-making, and both worked at and directed the repairing of the sails. Those acquainted with maritime affairs can readily appreciate the amount of labor necessary to provide a mess with the means at hand that we have before described. And yet he did it to the satisfaction of all, and manifested a restless anxiety lest he should not make everybody comfortable, and particularly his little pet boy, Tommy.
“We'll get a good observation at meridian, and then we shall shape our course for Charleston, South Carolina. We'll be more likely to reach it than any other southern port,” said the captain to his mate. “That steward, Manuel, is worth his weight in gold. If we have to abandon the old craft, I'll take him home; the owners respect him just as much as a white man; his politeness and affability could not but command such esteem, with a man that a'n't a fool. I never believed in making equals of negroes, but if Manuel was to be classed with niggers for all the nigger blood that's in him, seven-tenths of the inhabitants of the earth would go with him. I never saw such an attachment between brothers, as exists between him and Tommy. I verily believe that one couldn't go to sleep without the other. I should think they were brothers, if the lad wasn't English, and Manuel a Portuguese. But Manuel is as much an Englishman at heart as the lad, and has sailed so long under the flag that he seems to have a reverence for the old jack when he sees the bunting go up. He likes to tell that story about the Patagonians chasing him. I have overheard him several times, as much amused in his own recital as if he was listening to the quaint jokes of an old tar. But he swears the Patagonians will never catch him on their shores again, for he says he doesn't believe in making 'drum-head of man-skin,'” said the Captain, evidently with the intention of affecting the mate's feelings, and drawing his mind from its dark forebodings.
“Well, Skipper, I pray for a happy deliverance,” said the mate, “but if we make Charleston with her, it'll be a luck that man nor mermaid ever thought of. I hearn a good deal o' tell about Charleston, and the Keys. That isn't one of the places our stewards are so 'fraid of, and where owners don't like to send their ships when they can find freight in other ports?”
“I expect it is, sir; but I apprehend no such trouble with any of my crew,” answered the Captain promptly. “I sail under the faith of my nation's honor and prowess, the same as the Americans do under theirs. We're both respected wherever we go, and if one little State in the Union violates the responsibility of a great nation like that, I'm mistaken. Certainly, no nation in Christendom could be found, that wouldn't open their hearts to a shipwrecked sailor. I have too much faith in what I have heard of the hospitality of Southerners, to believe any thing of that kind.”
“Talk's all very well, Skipper,” said the mate; “but my word for it, I know'd several ships lying in the Mersey, about three years ago, bound to Southern ports for cotton. White stewards worth any thing couldn't be had for love nor money, and the colored ones wouldn't ship for ports in Slaves States. The Thebis got a colored man, but the owners had to pay him an enormous advance, and this, too, with the knowledge of his being locked up the whole time he was in port; thus having to incur the very useless expense of supplying his place, or find boarding-house accommodations for the officers and crew. If it be true, what I've hearn 'em say in the Mersey, the man doesn't only suffer in his feelings by some sort of confinement they have, but the owners suffer in pocket. But it may be, Skipper, and I'm inclined to think with you, our case is certainly deplorable enough to command pity instead of imprisonment. The government must be found cutting a dirty figure on the national picture, that would ill-treat sailors who had suffered as much as our boys have. I would hate to see Manuel shut up or ill-used. He's as brave a fellow as ever buckled at a handspike or rode a jib-boom. Last night, while in the worst of the gale, he volunteered to take Higgins's place, and, mounting the jib-boom, was several times buried in the sea; yet he held on like a bravo, and succeeded in cutting away the wreck. I thought he was gone once or twice, and I own I never saw more peril at sea; but if he hadn't effected it, the foot of the bowsprit would have strained her open in the eyes, and we'd all been sharks'-bait before this. The fellow was nearly exhausted when he came on board; says I, its gone day with you, old fellow; but he come to in a little while, and went cheerily to work again,” continued Mr. Mate, who though pleased with the Captain's determination to make the nearest port, seemed to dread that all would not be right in Charleston—that the bar was a very intricate one—water very shoal in the ship-channel, and though marked with three distinctive buoys, numbered according to their range, impossible to crops without a skilful pilot. The mate plead a preference for Savannah, asserting, according to his own knowlege, that a ship of any draft could cross that bar at any time of tide, and that it was a better port for the transaction of business.
The Janson was headed for Charleston, the queen city of the sunny South, and, as may be expected from her disabled condition, made very slow progress on her course. During the gale, her stores had become damaged, and on the third day before making Charleston light, Manuel Pereira came aft, and with a sad countenance reported that the last cask of good water was nearly out; that the others had all been stove during the gale, and what remained, so brackish that it was unfit for use. From this time until their arrival at Charleston, they suffered those tortures of thirst, which only those who have endured them can estimate.
CHAPTER IV. THE CHARLESTON POLICE.
MR. DURKEE had said in Congress, that a negro was condemned to be hung in Charleston for resisting his master's attempts upon the chastity of his wife; and that such was the sympathy expressed for the negro, that the sheriffs offer of one thousand dollars could induce no one present to execute the final mandate. Now, had Mr. Durkee been better acquainted with that social understanding between the slave, the pretty wife, and his master, and the acquiescing pleasure of the slave, who in nineteen cases out of twenty congratulates himself on the distinguished honor, he would have saved himself the error of such a charge against the tenor of social life in Charleston. Or, had he been better acquainted with the character of her police, he certainly would have saved the talent of Mr. Aiken its sophomore display in that cumbrous defence. In the first place, Mr. Durkee would have known that such attempts are so common among the social events of the day, and so well understood by the slave, that instead of being resented, they are appreciated to a great extent. We speak from long experience and knowledge of the connection between a certain class of slaves and their masters. In the second place, Mr. Durkee would have known that any man connected with the city police—save its honorable mayor, to whose character we would pay all deference—would not for conscience' sake scruple to hang a man for five dollars. We make no exception for color or crime. A qualification might be called for, more adapted to our knowledge of it as it has existed for the last four or five years; but we are informed by those whose lives and fortunes have been spent for the moral elevation of the city police, that it was even worse at the time referred to.
The reader may think we are making grave charges. Let us say, without fear of refutation, they are too well known in the community that tolerates them. As a mere shadow of what lays beneath the surface, we would refer to the only independent speech we ever listened to in Charleston,—except when self-laudation was the theme,—made by G. R—, Esq., in one of her public halls a few weeks ago. Mr. R—is a gentleman of moral courage and integrity, and, without fear or trembling, openly denounced the corruption and demoralization of the police department. Even the enemies of his party, knowing the facts, appreciated his candor as a man, while they denounced the publicity, (for his speech was paraded by the press,) lest the fair name of the queen city should suffer abroad. A beautiful farce followed this grave exposition. The board of aldermen, composed of fourteen men of very general standing, remained mum under the accusation for a long time. Its object was to show up the character of a class of officials, whose character and nefarious arts have long disgraced the city. But in order to make a display of his purity, Mr. C—, a gentleman entitled to high moral consideration, chose to make it a personal matter; yet, not content with a private explanation given by Mr. R—, he made a call through the press. Mr. R—responded in a proper and courteous manner, acknowledging the due respect to which Mr. C—'s private character was entitled; thus increasing the ambition of the board generally, who, with the expectation of Mr. R—making a like acknowledgment to them as a body, (not excepting their honorable head,) made a demand in joint-officio. This being duly signalized through the columns of the Courier and Mercury, Mr. R—met it with a response worthy of a gentleman. He referred them to the strongest evidence of his assertions, in the countenance which they gave to a class of officials too well known to the community for the honor of its name and the moral foundation of its corporate dignity. Thus ended a great municipal farce, to prolong which the principal performers knew would disclose the intriguing scenes of their secondary performers. The plot of this melo-comic concern was in the sequel, and turned upon the very grave fact of Mr. C—having some time previous withdrawn from the honorable board, to preserve some very delicate considerations for conscience' sake.
How much spiritual consolation Mr. C—realized through the acknowledgment of Mr. R—, or the honorable board in joint-officio from the firm admonition, we leave for the secondary consideration of proper wives and daughters.
But the reader will ask, what has this to do with poor Manuel Pereira,—or the imprisonment of free citizens of a friendly nation? We will show him that the complex system of official spoliation, and the misrepresentations of the police in regard to the influence of such persons upon the slave population, is a principal feature in its enforcement. To do this, we deem it essentially necessary to show the character of such men and the manner in which this law is carried out. We shall make no charges that we cannot sustain by the evidence of the whole city proper, and with the knowledge that truth is stronger than fiction.
What will the reader say when we tell him that, among the leading minds of the city—we say leading minds, for we class those who are considered foremost in the mercantile sphere among them—are three brothers, unmarried, but with mistresses bought for the purpose, whose dark skins avert the tongue of scandal;—that, twice, men were sold, because of the beauty of their wives, to distant traders, that the brothers might cast off their old mistresses, and appropriate new ones to an unholy purpose; that these men enjoy their richly furnished mansions, are known for their sumptuous entertainments, set an example of mercantile honor and integrity, are flattered among the populace, receive the attentions of very fine and very virtuous ladies, wield a potential voice in the city government, and lead in the greatest development of internal improvements;—that these men even whisper high-sounding words of morality, and the established custom considers their example no harm when color is modified.
What will the reader think, when we tell him that there is no city-marshal in Charleston, but innumerable marshalled men, supported by an onerous tax upon the people, to quiet the fears of a few. And what will they think, when we tell them that the man whose name is so frequently sounded through the columns of the press as the head of police, and applauded for his activity among thieves, is the well-known prince-officio of a voluptuous dwelling, where dazzling licentiousness fills his pockets with the spoils of allurement. This man has several counterparts, whose acts are no secrets to the public ear, and who turn their office into a mart of intrigue, and have enriched themselves upon the bounty of espionage and hush-money, and now assert the dignity of their purse. It may be asked, why are these men kept in office?—or have these offices become so disgraced that honest men will not deign to accept them? No! such is not the case. It is that moral integrity is not considered in its proper light, and is not valued as it should be; that these men have a secret influence which is well known, and are countenanced and retained for the weight of their control among a certain class; and, strange to say, that the party ex-officio make these demoralizing things the basis of their complaints against the “powers that be;” yet such is their feeble dependence, that no sooner are they in office than we have the repetition of the same things.
Now, how far his honor is answerable for these things we must leave the reader to judge. The leading characteristics of his nature conflict with each other; his moral character is what is considered sound here; and truly he is entitled to much respect for his exemplary conduct, whether it be only exerted as an example, or the heartfelt love of Christian purity. Some people are pious from impulse, and become affected when purpose serves to make it profitable. We, however, are not so uncharitable as to charge such piety to our worthy head of the city government, but rather to a highly developed organ of the love of office, which has outgrown the better inclinations of his well-established Christianity.
We must invite the reader's attention to another and still more glaring evidence of the demoralization of social life in Charleston. A notorious woman, who has kept the worst kind of a brothel for years, where harlots of all shades and importations break the quietude of night with their polluted songs, becomes so bold in her infamy that she appeals to the gracious considerations of the city council, (board of aldermen.) How is this? Why, we will tell the reader:—She remained unmolested in her trade of demoralization, amassed a fortune which gave her boldness, while her open display was considered very fine fun for the joking propensities of officials and gallants. With her wealth she reared a splendid mansion to infamy and shame, where she, and such as she, whose steps the wise man tells us “lead down to hell,” could sway their victory over the industrious poor. So public was it, that she openly boasted its purpose and its adaptation to the ensnaring vices of passion. Yes, this create in female form had spread ruin and death through the community, and brought the head of many a brilliant young man to the last stage of cast-off misery. And yet, so openly tolerated and countenanced by leading men are these things, that on the 31st of July, 1852, this mother of crime appeals to the honorable board of aldermen, as appeared in the “Proceedings of Council” in the Charleston Courier of that date, in the following manner:
“Laid over until a monied quorum is present.
“Letter from Mrs. G. Pieseitto, informing Council that having recessed her new brick building in Berresford street at least two feet, so as to dedicate it to the use of the citizens of Charleston, if they will pave with flag-stones the front of her lot, respectfully requests, that if accepted, the work may be done as soon as possible. Referred to the Aldermen, Ward No. 4.” The street is narrow and little used, except for purposes known to the lanterns, when honest people should sleep. The information might have been couched with more modesty, when the notoriety of the woman and the dedication of her tabernacle of vice was so public. How far the sensitive aldermen of the fourth ward have proceeded in the delicate mission, or how much champagne their modest consideration has cost, the public have not yet been informed. Rumor says every thing is favorable. We are only drawing from a few principal points, and shall leave the reader to draw his own inference of the moral complexion of our social being. We make but one more view, and resume our story.
An office connected with the judiciary, so long held as one of high responsibility and honorable position, is now held merely as a medium of miserable speculation and espionage. It is an elective office, the representative holding for four years. The present incumbent was elected more through charity than recompense for any amiable qualities, moral worth, or efficient services to party ends. A more weak man could not have been drawn from the lowest scale of party hirelings, though he had abdicated the office once before to save his name and the respectability of the judiciary. It may be said, he was elected in pity to speculate on misery; and thus it proved in the case of MANUEL PEREIRA. This functionary was elected by a large majority. Could his moral worth have been taken into consideration? We should think not! For several times have we been pointed to two interesting girls,—or, if their color was not shaded, would be called young ladies—promenading the shady side of King street, with their faces deeply vailed, and informed who was their father. The mother of these innocent victims had been a mother to their father, had nursed him and maintained him through his adversity, and had lived the partner of his life and affections for many years, and had reared to him an interesting but fatal family. But, no sooner had fortune begun to shed its smiling rays, than he abandoned the one that had watched over him for the choice of one who could boast no more than a white skin.
If men who fill high places live by teaching others to gratify their appetites and pleasures alone, instead of setting a commendable example for a higher state of existence, by whom can we expect that justice and moral worth shall be respected?
Connected with the city constabulary are two men whose duty it is to keep a sharp lookout for all vessels arriving, and see that all negroes or colored seamen are committed to prison. One is a South Carolinian, by the name of Dusenberry, and the other an Irishman, by the name of Dunn. These two men, although their office is despicable in the eyes of many, assume more authority over a certain class of persons, who are unacquainted with the laws, than the mayor himself. The former is a man of dark, heavy features, with an assassin-like countenance, more inclined to look at you distrustfully than to meet you with an open gaze. He is rather tall and athletic, but never has been known to do any thing that would give him credit for bravery. Several times he has been on the brink of losing his office for giving too much latitude to his craving for perquisites; yet, by some unaccountable means, he manages to hold on. The other is a robust son of the Emerald Isle, with a broad, florid face, low forehead, short crispy hair very red, and knotted over his forehead. His dress is usually very slovenly and dirty, his shirt-collar bespotted with tobacco-juice, and tied with an old striped bandana handkerchief. This, taken with a very wide mouth, flat nose, vicious eye, and a countenance as hard as ever came from Tipperary, and a lame leg, which causes him to limp as he walks, gives our man Dunn the incarnate appearance of a fit body-grabber. A few words will suffice for his character. He is known to the official department, of which the magistrates are a constituent part, as a notorious ——l; and his better-half, who, by-the-way, is what is called a free-trader, meaning, to save the rascality of a husband, sells liquor by small portions, to suit the Murphys and the O'Neals. But, as it pleases our Mr. Dunn, he very often becomes a more than profitable customer, and may be found snoring out the penalty in some sequestered place, too frequently for his own character. Between the hours of ten and twelve in the morning, Dunn, if not too much incapacitated, may be seen limping his way down Broad street, to watch vessels arriving and departing, carrying a limp-cane in one hand, and a large covered whip in the other. We were struck with the appearance of the latter, because it was similar to those carried in the hands of a rough, menial class of men in Macon, Georgia, who called themselves marshals, under a misapplication of the term. Their office was to keep the negro population “straight,” and do the whipping when called upon, at fifty cents a head. They also did the whipping at the jails, and frequently made from five to six dollars a day at this alone; for it is not considered fashionable for a gentleman to whip his own negro. We noticed the universal carrying of this whip, when we first visited Macon, some four years ago, and were curious to know its purport, which was elucidated by a friend; but we have since seen the practical demonstrations painfully carried out. Those who visited Boston for the recovery of Crafts and Ellen—whose mode of escape is a romance in itself—were specimens of these “marshals.” How they passed themselves off for gentlemen, we are at a loss to comprehend.
During the day, the Messrs. Dusenberry and Dunn may be seen at times watching about the wharves, and again in low grog-shops—then pimping about the “Dutch beer-shops and corner-shops”—picking up, here and there, a hopeful-looking nigger, whom they drag off to limbo, or extort a bribe to let him go. Again, they act as monitors over the Dutch corner-shops, the keepers of which pay them large sums to save themselves the heavy license fine and the information docket. When they are no longer able to pay over hush-money, they find themselves walked up to the captain's office, to be dealt with according to the severe penalty made and provided for violating the law which prohibits the sale of liquor to negroes without an order. The failure to observe this law is visited with fine and imprisonment,—both beyond their proportionate deserts, when the law which governs the sale of liquor to white men is considered. Things are very strictly regulated by complexions in South Carolina. The master sets the most dissipated and immoral examples in his own person, and allows his children not only to exercise their youthful caprices, but to gratify such feelings as are pernicious to their moral welfare, upon his slaves. Now, the question is, that knowing the negro's power of imitation, ought not some allowance to be made for copying the errors of his master? Yet such is not the case; for the slightest deviation from the strictest rule of discipline brings condign punishment upon the head of the offender.
CHAPTER V. MR. GRIMSHAW, THE MAN OF THE COUNTY.
ON the 22d of March last, about ten o'clock in the morning, a thin, spare-looking man, dressed in a black cashmeret suit, swallow-tail coat, loose-cut pants, a straight-breasted vest, with a very extravagant shirt-collar rolling over upon his coat, with a black ribbon tied at the throat, stood at the east corner of Broad and Meeting street, holding a very excited conversation with officers Dusenberry and Dunn. His visage was long, very dark—much more so than many of the colored population—with pointed nose and chin, standing in grim advance to each other; his face narrow, with high cheek-bones, small, peering eyes, contracted forehead, reclining with a sunken arch between the perceptive and intellectual organs—or, perhaps, we might have said, where those organs should have been. His countenance was full of vacant restlessness; and as he stared at you through his glasses, with his silvery gray hair hanging about his ears and neck in shaggy points, rolling a large quid of tobacco in his mouth, and dangling a little whip in his right hand, you saw the index to his office. As he raised his voice—which he did by twisting his mouth on one side, and working his chin to adjust his enormous quid—the drawling tone in which he spoke gave a picture not easily forgotten.
“You must pay more attention to the arrivals,” said he in a commanding tone. “The loss of one of these fellers is a serious drawback to my pocket; and that British consul's using the infernalest means to destroy our business, that ever was. He's worse than the vilest abolitionist, because he thinks he's protected by that flag of their'n. If he don't take care, we'll tar-and-feather him; and if his government says much about it, she'll larn what and who South Carolina is. We can turn out a dozen Palmetto regiments that'd lick any thing John Bull could send here, and a troop o' them d—d Yankee abolitionists besides. South Carolina's got to show her hand yet against these fellers, afore they'll respect the honor and standing of her institutions. They can't send their navy to hurt us. And it shows that I always predicts right; for while these commercial fellers about the wharves are telling about digging out the channel, I've al'ays said they didn't think how much injury they were doing; for it was our very best protection in war-time. South Carolina can lick John Bull, single-fisted, any time; but if that pack of inconsiderate traders on the wharves get their own way, away goes our protection, and John Bull would bring his big ships in and blow us up. And these fellows that own ships are getting so bold, that a great many are beginning to side with Mathew, the consul. Yes, they even swear that 'tis the officials that stick to the law for the sake of the fees. Now, if I only knew that the consul was the means of that Nassau nigger getting away, I'd raise a mob, and teach him a lesson that South Carolinians ought to have teached him before. It took about seventeen dollars out of my pocket, and if I was to sue him for it, I could get no recompense. The next time you allow one to escape, I must place some other officer over the port,” said our man whom, we shall continue to call Mr. Grimshaw.
“Sure I heard the same consul, when spakin to a gintleman, say that the law was only an abuse of power, to put money into the pockets of yourself and a few like ye. And whin meself and Flin put the irons on a big nigger that the captain was endeavoring to skulk by keeping him in the forecastle of the ship, he interfered between me and me duty, and began talking his balderdash about the law. Sure, with his own way, he'd have every nigger in the city an abolitionist in three weeks. And sure, Mr. Sheriff, and ye'd think they were babies, if ye'd see himself talk to them at the jail, and send them up things, as if they were better than the other criminals, and couldn't live on the jail fare,” said officer Dunn, who continued to pledge himself to the sheriff that the wharves should not be neglected, nor a hopeful English darky escape his vigilant eye.
“For my own part, I think they're better off in jail than they would be on the wharf,” continued Grimshaw. “They're a worthless set, and ha'n't half the character that a majority of our slaves have; and instead of attending the captain on board, they'd be into Elliot street, spending their money, getting drunk, and associating with our worst niggers. And they all know so much about law, that they're always teaching our bad niggers the beauties of their government, which makes them more unhappy than they are. Our niggers are like a shoal of fish—when one becomes diseased, he spreads it among all the rest; and before you know where you are, they're done gone.”
“They're not very profitable customers for us, Sheriff,” said Dusenberry. “We have a deal of watching, and a mighty smart lot of trouble after we get them fellows; and if we get a perquisite, it never amounts to much, for I seldom knew one that had money enough to treat as we took him up. These Britishers a'n't like us; they don't pay off in port and if the fellows get any thing in jail from the consul, it's by drib-drabs, that a'n't no good, for it all goes for liquor. And them criminals make a dead haul upon a black steward, as soon as he is locked up. But if these sympathizing fools follow up their bugbears about the treatment at the jail, they'll get things so that our business won't be worth a dollar. For my own part, I'm not so much beholdin', for I've made myself comfortable within the last few years, but I want my son to succeed me in the office. But if this consul of their'n keeps up his objections, appeals, and his protests in this way, and finds such men as his honor the district-attorney to second him with his nonsense and his notions, folks of our business might as well move north of Mason and Dixon's.”
“I can wake him up to a point,” said Grimshaw, “that that abolition consul ha'n't learnt before; and if he'd stuck his old petition in Charles Sumner's breeches pocket instead of sending it to our legislature, he might have saved his old-womanish ideas from the showing' up that Myzeck gave 'em. It takes Myzeck to show these blue-skin Yankees how to toe the mark when they come to South Carolina. If South Carolina should secede, I'd say give us Myzeck and Commander to lead our war, and we'd be as sure to whip 'em as we won the Mexican war for the Federal Government. There is three things about an Englishman, Dusenberry, which you may mark for facts. He is self-conceited, and don't want to be advised;—he thinks there is no law like the law of England, and that the old union-jack is a pass-book of nations;—and he thinks everybody's bound to obey his notions of humanity and the dictates of his positive opinions. But what's worse than all, they've never seen the sovereignty of South Carolina carried out, and according to Consul Mathew's silly notions, they think we could be licked by a gun-boat.
“It's no use arguing this thing, you must keep a keen eye upon the English niggers; and when a man pretends to dispute the right, tell him its 'contrary to law,' and to look at the statute-books; tell him it costs more to keep them than they're all worth; and if they say the law was never intended for foreign citizens, tell 'em its 'contrary to law.' South Carolina's not bound to obey the voice of the General Government, and what does she care for the federal courts? We'll pursue a course according to the law; and any thing that is contrary to it we will take care of for the better protection of our institutions. Now, don't let one pass, upon the peril of your office,” continued Mr. Grimshaw.
“It's not a button I'd care for the office,” said Dunn. “Sure it's yerself be's makin' all the fees, and ourselves getting the paltry dollar; and yerself gives us as much trouble to get that as we'd be earning two dollars at magistrate Jiles' beyant. Sure! himself's liberal and doesn't be afraid to give us a division of the fees when the business is good. And sure ye make yer ten times the fees on an English nigger, and never gives us beyant the dollar,” continued he, moving off in high dudgeon, and swearing a stream of oaths that made the very blood chill. There was a covert meaning about Mr. Grimshaw's language that was not at all satisfactory to Mr. Dunn's Irish; especially when he knew Mr. Grimshaw's insincerity so well, and that, instead of being liberal, he pocketed a large amount of the fees, to the very conscientious benefit of his own dear self. The reader must remember that in Charleston, South Carolina, there is a large majority of men who care little for law, less for justice, and nothing for Christianity. Without compunction of conscience, and with an inherited passion to set forward the all-absorbing greatness of South Carolina, these men act as a check upon the better-disposed citizens. The more lamentable part is, that forming a large portion of that species of beings known as bar-room politicians, they actually control the elections in the city; and thus we may account for the character of the incumbents of office, and for the tenacity with which those oppressive laws are adhered to.
This almost incompatible conversation between a high sheriff and two menial constables, may to many seem inconsistent with the dignity that should be observed between such functionaries. Nevertheless, all restraint is not only annihilated by consent, but so prominently is this carried out, and so well understood by that respectable class of citizens whose interests and feelings are for maintaining a good name for the city and promoting its moral integrity, that in all our conversation with them, we never heard one speak well of those functionaries or the manner in which the police regulations of the city were carried out.
CHAPTER VI. THE JANSON IN THE OFFING.
AFTER several days' suffering for want of wafer and fatigue of labor, several of the crew were reported upon the sick-list. Manuel, who had borne his part nobly and cheerfully, was among the number; and his loss was more severely felt, having done a double duty, and succeeded, as far as the means were at hand, in making everybody on board comfortable. He had attended upon those who gave up first, like a good nurse, ready at the call, whether night or day, and with a readiness that seemed pleasure to him. From the captain to the little boy Tommy, his loss was felt with regret; and the latter would often go into the forecastle where he lay, lean over him with a child-like simplicity, and smooth his forehead with his little hand. “Manuel! I wish poor Manuel was well!” he would say, and again he would lay his little hand on his head and smooth his hair. He would whisper encouragement in his ear; and having learned a smattering of Portuguese, would tell him how soon they would be in port, and what pleasant times they would have together.
On the 21st they descried land, which proved to be Stono, about twenty-five miles south of Charleston. Tommy announced the news to Manuel, which seemed to cheer him up. His sickness was evidently caused by fatigue, and his recovery depended more upon rest and nourishment than medical treatment. That night at ten o'clock the wind came strong north-west, and drove the Janson some distance to sea again; and it was not until the morning of the 23d that she made Charleston light, and succeeded in working up to the bar. Signal was made for a pilot, and soon, a very fine cutter-looking boat, “Palmetto, No. 4,” was seen shooting out over the bar in the main channel. Manuel, somewhat recovered, had a few minutes before been assisted on deck, and through the captain's orders was laid upon a mattrass, stretched on the starboard side of the companion-way. By his side sat little Tommy, serving him with some nourishment.
The boat was soon alongside, and the pilot, a middle-sized man, well dressed, with a frank, open countenance, rather florid and sun-stained, and a profusion of gold chain and seal dangling from his fob, came on board. After saluting the captain, he surveyed the weather-beaten condition of the craft, made several inquiries in regard to her working, and then said in a sang-froid manner, “Well! I reckon you've seen some knocking, anyhow.” Then turning again and giving some orders in regard, to getting more way upon her, he viewed the laborious working at the pumps, and walking about midships on the larboard side, took a sharp survey of her waist. “Don't she leak around her topsides, Captain?” said he.
Receiving an answer in the affirmative, he gave a glance aloft, and then at the sky to windward; asked how long he had worked her in that condition, and where he took the gale. “It's a wonder she hadn't swamped ye before now. I'd a' beached her at the first point, if she'd bin mine; I'd never stand at slapping an old craft like this on. She reminds me of one o' these down-east sugar-box crafts what trade to Cuba,” he continued. Then walking across the main-hatch to the starboard side, he approached the men who were pumping, and after inquiring about freeing her, suddenly caught a glimpse of Manuel, as he lay upon the mattrass with his face uncovered.
“Heavens! What! have you got the yellow fever on board at this season of the year?” he inquired of the mate, who had just come aft to inquire about getting some water from the pilot-boat.
“No, we've had every thing else but the yellow fever; one might as well bin on a raft as such an infernal unlucky old tub as she is. It's the steward, sir—he's got a touch of a fever; but he'll soon be over it. He only wants rest, poor fellow! He's bin a bully at work ever since the first gale. He'll mend before he gets to town,” was the reply.
“Ah! then you've had a double dose of it. It gives a fellow bringer off them capes once in a while.—The steward's a nigger, isn't he?” inquired the pilot.
“Nigger!—not he,” said the mate. “He's a Portuguese mixed breed; a kind o' sun-scorched subject, like a good many of you Southerners. A nigger's mother never had him, you may bet your 'davie on that. There's as much white blood in his jacket as anybody's got, only them Portuguese are dark-lookin' fellers. He's no fool—his name's Manuel, a right clever feller, and the owners think as much of him as they do of the Skipper.”
“Gammon,” said the pilot to himself. “What would he think if we were to show him some specimens of our white niggers in Charleston?” And turning, he walked past Manuel with a suspicious look, and took a position near the man at the wheel, where he remained for some time fingering the seals of his watch-chain. The Captain had gone into the cabin a few minutes before, and coming on deck again, walked toward the place where the pilot stood, and took a seat upon an old camp-stool.
“Cap,” said the pilot, “ye'll have trouble with that nigger of your'n when ye git to town. If you want to save yerself and the owners a d—d site o' bother and expense, y' better keep him close when y' haul in; and ship him off to New York the first chance. I've seen into the mill, Cap, and y' better take a friend's advice.”
“Nigger!” said the Captain indignantly, “what do they call niggers in Charleston? My steward's no more a nigger than you are!”
“What, sir?” returned the pilot in a perfect rage. “Do you know the insulting nature of your language? Sir, if the law did not subject me, I would leave your vessel instantly, and hold you personally responsible as soon as you landed, sir.”
The Captain, unconscious of the tenacity with which the chivalrous blood of South Carolina held language that mooted a comparison of colors, considered his answer; but could see nothing offensive in it.
“You asked me a question, and I gave you a proper answer. If you consider such a man as my steward—poor fellow—a nigger, in your country, I'm glad that you are blessed with so many good men.”
“We polishes our language, Captain, when we speak of niggers in South Carolina,” said the pilot. “A South Carolinian, sir, is a gentleman all over the world. It don't want nothin' further than the name of his State to insure him respect. And when foreign folks and Northerners from them abolition States bring free niggers into South Carolina, and then go to comparing them to white folks, they better be mighty careful how they stir about. South Carolina ought to've seceded last year, when she talked about it, and sent every Yankee home to make shoe-pegs. We wouldn't bin insulted then, as we are now. I'll tell you what it is, Cap,” said he, rather cooling off, “if our folks was only as spunky as they were in eighteen hundred and thirty-two times, them fellers what come here to feed upon South Carolina, put the devil in the heads of the niggers, and then go home again, would see stars and feel bullet-holes.”
The Captain listened to the pilot's original South Carolina talk, or, as the pilot himself had called it, polished language, without exhibiting any signs of fear and trembling at its sublime dignity; yet, finding that the pilot had misconstrued the tenor of his answer, said, “You must have mistaken the intention of my reply, sir; and the different manner in which you appropriate its import may be attributed to a custom among yourselves, which makes language offensive that has no offensive meaning. We never carry pistols or any such playthings in my country. We have a moral security for our lives, and never look upon death as so great an enemy that we must carry deadly weapons to defend it. In fact, pilot,” he said in a joking manner, “they're rather cumbersome little bits for a feller's pocket: I'd rather carry my supper and breakfast in my pocket. Now tell us, who do you call niggers in South Carolina?”
“Why, Captain, we call all what a'n't white folks. Our folks can tell 'em right smart. They can't shirk out if it's only marked by the seventeenth generation. You can always tell 'em by the way they look—they can't look you in the face, if they are ever so white. The law snaps 'em up once in a while, and then, if they're ever so white, it makes 'em prove it. I've known several cases where the doubt was in favor of the nigger, but he couldn't prove it, and had to stand aside among the darkies. Dogs take my skin, Cap, if theren't a Jew feller in town as white as anybody, and his father's a doctor. It got whispered round that he was a nigger, and the boarders where he stayed raised a fuss about it. The nigger's father had two of them sued for slander, but they proved the nigger by a quirk of law that'd make a volume bigger than Blackstone; and instead of the old Jew getting satisfaction, the judges, as a matter of policy, granted him time to procure further proof to show that his son wasn't a nigger. It was a very well-considered insinuation of the judges, but the young-un stands about A-1 with a prime nigger-feller.”
“I should like to have 'em try me, to see whether I was a nigger or a white man. It must be a funny law, 'nigger or no nigger.' If a feller's skin won't save him, what the devil will?” said the Captain.
“Why, show your mother and her generation were white, to be sure! It's easy enough done, and our judges are all very larned in such things—can tell in the twinkling of an eye,” said the pilot.
“I should think the distinguishing points would be to show that their mother had nothing to do with a nigger. Do your judges make this a particular branch of jurisprudence? If they do, I'd like to know what they took for their text-books. If the intermixture is as complex as what you say, I should think some of the judges would be afraid of passing verdict upon their own kin.”
“Not a whit!” said the pilot; “they know enough for that.”
“Then you admit there's a chance. It must be an amusing affair, 'pon my soul! when a nice little female has to draw aside her vail before a court of very dignified judges, for the purpose of having her pedigree examined,” said the Captain.
“Oh! the devil, Cap; your getting all astray—a woman nigger never has the advantage of the law. They always go with the niggers, ah! ha! ha!!”
“But suppose they're related to some of your big-bugs. What then? Are your authorities so wise and generous that they make allowance for these things,” asked the Captain, innocently.
“Oh! poh! there you're again: you must live in Charleston a year or two, but you'll have to be careful at first that you don't fall in love with some of our bright gals, and think they're white, before you know it. It doesn't matter seven coppers who they're got by, there's no distinction among niggers in Charleston. I'll put you through some of the bright houses when we get up, and show you some scions of our aristocracy, that are the very worst cases. It's a fact, Cap, these little shoots of the aristocracy invariably make bad niggers. If a fellow wants a real prime, likely nigger wench, he must get the pure African blood. As they say themselves, 'Wherever Buckra-man bin, make bad nigger.'”
“Well, Pilot, I think we've had enough about mixed niggers for the present. Tell me! do you really think they'll give me trouble with my steward? He certainly is not a black man, and a better fellow never lived,” inquired the Captain earnestly.
“Nothing else, Cap,” said the pilot. “It's a hard law, I tell you, and if our merchants and business men had a say in it, 'twouldn't last long; ye can't pass him off for a white man nohow, for the thing's 'contrary to law,' and pays so well that them contemptible land-sharks of officers make all the fuss about it, and never let one pass. Just take the infernal fees off, and nobody'd trouble themselves about the stewards. It all goes into old Grimshaw's pocket, and he'd skin a bolt-rope for the grease, and sell the steward if he could get a chance. He has sold a much nearer relation. I'm down upon the law, you'll see, Cap, for I know it plays the dickens with our business, and is a curse to the commerce of the port. Folks what a'n't acquainted with shipping troubles, and a shipowner's interests, think such things are very small affairs. But it's the name that affects us, and when an owner stands at every item in the disbursements, and a heavy bill for keeping his steward, and another for filling his place, or boarding-house accommodations, and then be deprived of his services, he makes a wry face, and either begins to think about another port, or making the rate of freight in proportion to the annoyance. It has an effect that we feel, but don't say much about. I'm a secessionist, but I don't believe in running mad after politics, and letting our commercial interests suffer.”
“But what if I prove my steward a'n't a colored man?” said the Captain; “they surely won't give me any trouble then. It would pain my feelings very much to see Manuel locked up in a cell for no crime; and then to be deprived of his services, is more than I can stand. If I'd known it before, I'd suffered the torments of thirst, and put for a port farther north.”
“It'll cost more than it's worth,” said the pilot. “Take my plain advice, Cap; never try that; our lawyers are lusty fellows upon fees; and the feller'd rot in that old nuisance of a jail afore you'd get him out. The process is so slow and entangled, nobody'd know how to bring the case, and ev'ry lawyer'd have an opinion of his own. But the worst of all is that it's so unpopular, you can't get a lawyer worth seven cents to undertake it. It would be as dangerous as an attempt to extricate a martyr from the burning flames. Public opinion in Charleston is controlled by politicians; and an attempt to move in a thing so unpopular would be like a man attempting to speak, with pistols and swords pointed to his head.”
“Then it's folly to ask justice in your city, is it?” asked the Captain. “But your people are generous, a'n't they? and treat strangers with a courtesy that marks the character of every high-minded society?”
“Yes!—but society in South Carolina has nothing to do with the law; our laws are gloriously ancient. I wish, Cap, I could only open your ideas to the way our folks manage their own affairs. I'm opposed to this law that imprisons stewards, because it affects commerce, but then our other laws are tip-top. It was the law that our legislature made to stop free niggers from coming from the abolition States to destroy the affections of our slaves. Some say, the construction given to it and applied to stewards of foreign vessels a'n't legal, and wasn't intended; but now it's controlled by popular will,—the stewards a'n't legislators, and the judges know it wouldn't be popular, and there's nobody dare meddle with it, for fear he may be called an abolitionist. You better take my advice, Cap: ship the nigger, and save yourself and Consul Mathew the trouble of another fuss,” continued the pilot.
“That I'll never do! I've made up my mind to try it, and won't be driven out of a port because the people stand in fear of a harmless man. If they have any souls in them, they'll regard with favor a poor sailor driven into their port in distress. I've sailed nearly all over the world, and I never got among a people yet that wouldn't treat a shipwrecked sailor with humanity. Gracious God! I've known savages to be kind to poor shipwrecked sailors, and to share their food with them. I can't, pilot, imagine a civilization so degraded, nor a public so lost to common humanity, as to ill treat a man in distress. We've said enough about it for the present. I'll appeal to Mr. Grimshaw's feelings, when I get to the city; and I know, if he's a man, he'll let Manuel stay on board, if I pledge my honor that he won't leave the craft.”
“Humph!—If you knew him as well as I do, you'd save your own feelings. His sympathies don't run that way,” said the pilot.
The Janson had now crossed the bar, and was fast approaching Fort Sumpter. Manuel had overheard enough of the conversation to awaken fears for his own safety. Arising from the mattrass, in a manner indicating his feeble condition, he called Tommy, and walking forward, leaned over the rail near the fore-rigging, and inquired what the Captain and the pilot were talking about. Observing his fears, the little fellow endeavoured to quiet him by telling him they were talking about bad sailors.
“I think it is me they are talking about. If they sell me for slave in Charleston, I'll kill myself before a week,” said he in his broken English.
“What's that you say, Manuel?” inquired the first mate as he came along, clearing up the decks with the men.
“Pilot tell Captain they sell me for slave in South Carolina. I'd jump overboard 'fore I suffer him,” said he.
“Oh, poh! don't be a fool; you a'n't among Patagonians, Manuel; you won't have to give 'em leg for your life. They don't sell foreigners and outlandish men like you for slaves in Carolina—it's only black folks what can't clothe the'r words in plain English. Yer copper-colored hide wouldn't be worth a sixpence to a nigger-trader—not even to old Norman Gadsden, that I've heard 'em tell so much about in the Liverpool docks. He's a regular Jonathan Wild in nigger-dealing; his name's like a fiery dragon among the niggers all over the South; and I hearn our skipper say once when I sailed in a liner, that niggers in Charleston were so 'fraid of him they'd run, like young scorpions away from an old he-devil, when they saw him coming. He sells white niggers, as they call 'em, and black niggers—any thing that comes in his way, in the shape of saleable folks. But he won't acknowledge the corn when he goes away from home, and swears there's two Norman Gadsdens in Charleston; that he a'n't the one! When a man's ashamed of his name abroad, his trade must be very bad at home, or I'm no sailor,” said the mate.
“Ah, my boys!” said the pilot in a quizzical manner, as he came to where several of the men were getting the larboard anchor ready to let go,—“if old Norman Gadsden gets hold of you, you're a gone sucker. A man what's got a bad nigger has only got to say Old Gadsden to him, and it's equal to fifty paddles. The mode of punishment most modern, and adopted in all the workhouses and places of punishment in South Carolina, is with the paddle, a wooden instrument in, the shape of a baker's peel; with a blade from three to five inches wide, and from eight to ten long. This is laid on the posteriors—generally by constables or officers connected with the police. Holes are frequently bored in the blade, which gives the application a sort of percussive effect; The pain is much more acute than with the cowhide; and several instances are known where a master ordered an amount of strokes beyond the endurance of the slave, and it proved fatal at the workhouse. They tell a pretty good story about the old fellow. I don't know if it's true, but the old fellow's rich now, and he does just what he pleases. It was that somebody found one of those little occasional droppings of the aristocracy, very well known among the secrets of the chivalry, and called foundlings, nicely fixed up in a basket.—It's among the secrets though, and mustn't be told abroad.—The finders labelled it, 'Please sell to the highest bidder,' and left it at his door. There was a fund of ominous meaning in the label; but Norman very coolly took the little helpless pledge under his charge, and, with the good nursing of old Bina, made him tell to the tune of two hundred and thirty, cash, 'fore he was two year old. He went by the name of Thomas Norman, the Christian division of his foster-father's, according to custom. The old fellow laughs at the joke, as he calls it, and tells 'em, when they stick it to him, they don't understand the practice of making money. You must keep a bright look out for him, Manuel—you'll know him by the niggers running when they see him coming.”
The pilot now returned to the quarter, and commenced dilating upon the beauty of Charleston harbor and its tributaries, the Astley and Cooper Rivers—then upon the prospects of fortifications to beat the United States in the event of South Carolina's seceding and raising an independent sovereignty, composed of her best blood. The Captain listened to his unsolicited and uninteresting exposition of South Carolina's prowess in silence, now and then looking up at the pilot and nodding assent. He saw that the pilot was intent upon astonishing him with his wonderful advancement in the theory of government, and the important position of South Carolina. Again he looked dumbfounded, as much as to acknowledge the pilot's profundity, and exclaimed, “Well! South Carolina must be a devil of a State: every thing seems captivated with its greatness: I'd like to live in Carolina if I didn't get licked.”
“By scissors! that you would, Captain; you ha'n't an idee what a mighty site our people can do if they're a mind to! All South Carolina wants is her constitutional rights, which her great men fought for in the Revolution. We want the freedom to protect our own rights and institutions—not to be insulted and robbed by the General Government and the abolitionists.”
“Do you practice as a people upon the same principles that you ask of the General Government!” inquired the Captain.
“Certainly, Captain, as far as it was intended for the judicious good of all white citizens!”
“Then you claim a right for the whites, but withhold the right when it touches on the dark side. You'll have to lick the Federal Government, as you call it, for they won't cut the constitution up to suit your notions of black and white.” * * *
“That's just the thing, Cap, and we can do it just as easy as we now protect our own laws, and exterminate the niggers what attempt insurrections. South Carolina sets an example, sir, of honor and bravery that can't be beat. Why, just look a-yonder, Cap: the Federal Government owns this 'er Fort Sumpter, and they insulted us by building it right in our teeth, so that they could command the harbor, block out our commerce, and collect the duties down here. But, Cap, this don't scare South Carolina nohow. We can show 'em two figures in war tactics that'd blow 'em to thunder. Ye see yonder!” said he, with an earnest look of satisfaction, pointing to the south, “That's Morris Island. We'd take Fort Moultrie for a breakfast spell, and then we'd put it to 'em hot and strong from both sides, until they'd surrender Fort Sumpter. They couldn't stand it from both sides. Yes, sir, they shut Fort Moultrie against us, and wouldn't let us have it to celebrate independence in. There's a smouldering flame in South Carolina that'll burst forth one of these days in a way that must teach the Federal Government some astonishing and exciting lessons. There's old Castle Pinckney, sir; we could keep it for a reserve, and with Generals Quattlebum and Commander, from Georgetown and Santee Swamp, we could raise an army of Palmetto regiments that would whip the Federal Government troop and gun-boat.”
We have given this singular conversation of the pilot with a strange Captain, which at the time was taken as an isolated case of gasconade peculiar to the man; but which the Captain afterward found to harmonize in sentiment, feeling, and expression with the general character of the people—the only exceptions being the colored people.
CHAPTER VII. ARRIVAL OF THE JANSON.
ABOUT five o'clock on the evening of the 23d, the Janson passed Castle Pinckney, ran up to the wharf with the flood-tide, let go her anchor, and commenced warping into the dock. Her condition attracted sundry persons to the end of the wharf, who viewed her with a sort of commiseration that might have been taken for sincere feeling. The boarding officer had received her papers, and reported her character and condition, which had aroused a feeling of speculative curiosity, that was already beginning to spread among ship-carpenters and outfitters.
Conspicuous among those gathered on the wharf was a diminutive little dandy, with an olive-colored frock-coat, black pants, embroidered vest, and an enormous shirt-collar that endangered his ears. This was secured around the neck with a fancy neckcloth, very tastefully set off with a diamond pin, He was very slender, with a narrow, feminine face, round popeyes—requiring the application of a pocket-glass every few minutes—and very fair complexion, with little positive expression of character in his features. His nose was pointed; his chin, projected and covered with innumerable little pimples, gave an irregular and mastiff-shaped mouth a peculiar expression. He wore a very highly-polished and high-heeled pair of boots, and a broad-brimmed, silk-smooth hat. He seemed very anxious to display the beauty of two diamond rings that glittered upon his delicate little fingers, made more conspicuous by the wristbands of his shirt. Standing in a very conspicuous place upon the capsill of the wharf, he would rub his hands, then running from one part of the wharf to another, ordering sundry niggers about making fast the lines, kicking one, and slapping another, as he stooped, with his little hand. All paid respect to him. The Captain viewed him with a smile of curiosity, as much as to say, “What important specimen of a miss in breeches is that?” But when the little fellow spoke, the secret was told. He gathered the inflections of his voice, as if he were rolling them over the little end of a thunderbolt in his mouth. As the vessel touched the wharf, he sprang to the corner and cried out at the top of his voice, “Yer' welcome to Charleston, Captain Thompson! Where did you get that knocking?—where are ye bound for?—how many days are you out?—how long has she leaked in that way?” and a strain of such questions, which it would be impossible to trace, such was the rapidity with which he put them. The Captain answered him in accordance with the circumstances; and supposing him clothed with authority, inquired where he should find some hands to work his pumps, in order to relieve his men. “By-Je-w-hu! Captain, you must a' had a piping time, old feller. Oh! yes, you want help to work your pumps. Get niggers, Captain, there's lots on 'em about here. They're as thick as grasshoppers in a cotton-patch.”
“Yes, but I want 'em now, my men are worn out; I must get some Irishmen, if I can't get others at once,” said the Captain, viewing his man again from head to foot.
“Oh! don't employ Paddies, Captain; 'ta'n't popular; they don't belong to the secession party; Charleston's overrun with them and the Dutch! Why, she won't hurt to lay till to-morrow morning, and there'll be lots o' niggers down; they can't be out after bell-ring without a pass, and its difficult to find their masters after dark. Haul her up 'till she grounds, and she won't leak when the tide leaves her. We can go to the theatre and have a right good supper after, at Baker's or the St. Charles's. It's the way our folks live. We live to enjoy ourselves in South Carolina. Let the old wreck go to-night.” The little fellow seemed so extremely polite, and so anxious to “do the genteel attention,” that the Captain entirely forgot the tenor of his conversation with the pilot, while his feelings changed with the prospect of such respectful attention; and yet he seemed at a loss how to analyze the peculiar character of his little, pedantic friend.
“You must not think me intrusive, Captain,” said he, pulling out his segar-pouch and presenting it with at Chesterfieldian politeness. “It's a pleasure we Carolinians take in being hospitable and attentive to strangers. My name, sir, is—! My niggers call me Master George. Yes, sir! our family!—you have heard of my father probably—he belongs to one of the best stocks in Carolina—owns a large interest in this wharf, and is an extensive cotton-broker, factors, we call them here—and he owns a large plantation of niggers on Pee-Dee; you must visit our plantation. Captain, certain! before you leave the city. But you mustn't pay much attention to the gossip you'll hear about the city. I pledge you my honor, sir, it don't amount to any thing, nor has it any prominent place in our society.”
“Really, sir,” replied the Captain, “I shall do myself the honor to accept of your hospitable kindness, and hope it may be my good fortune to reciprocate at some future day. I'm only too sorry that our wrecked condition affords me no opportunity to invite you to my table to-night; but the circumstances which you see everywhere presenting themselves are my best apology.”
“Oh, dear me! don't mention it, I pray, Captain. Just imagine yourself perfectly at home. We will show you what Southern hospitality is. We don't go upon the Yankee system of Mr. So-and-so and What-do-ye-call-'um. Our feelings are in keeping with our State pride, which, with our extreme sensibility of honor, forbids the countenance of meanness. South Carolinians, sir, are at the very top of the social ladder—awake to every high-minded consideration of justice and right. We are not moved by those morbid excitements and notions that so often lead people away at the North. Make no unnecessary preparation, Captain, and I will do myself the honor to call upon you in an hour.” Thus saying, he shook his hand and left.
The pilot had delivered his charge safe, and was about to, bid the Captain good-by for the night. But in order to do the thing in accordance with an English custom, that appears to have lost none of its zest in South Carolina, he was invited into the Captain's cabin to take a little prime old Jamaica. Manuel, who had somewhat recovered, brought out the case from a private locker, and setting it before them, they filled up, touched glasses, and drank the usual standing toast to South Carolina. “Pilot,” said the Captain, “who is my polite friend—he seems a right clever little fellow?”
“Well, Captain, he's little, but he's first-rate blood, and a genuine sprig of the chivalry. He's a devil of a secessionist, sir. If ye were to hear that fellow make a stump speech on States' rights, you'd think him a Samson on Government. His father is the head of a good mercantile house here; 'twouldn't be a bad idea to consign to him. But I must bid you good-night, Captain; I'll call and see you to-morrow,” said the pilot, leaving for his home.
The Janson was hauled well up the dock, and grounded on the ebb-tide. Manuel prepared supper for the officers and crew, while the Captain awaited the return of his new acquaintance. “Captain,” said Manuel, “I should like to go ashore to-night and take a walk, for my bones are sore, and I'm full of pains. I think it will do me good. You don't think anybody will trouble me, if I walk peaceably along?”
“Nobody would trouble you if they knew you, Manuel; but I am afraid they will mistake you in the night. You had better keep ship until morning; take a good rest, and to-morrow will be a fine day—you can then take some exercise.”
Manuel looked at the Captain as if he read something doubtful in his countenance, and turned away with a pitiful look of dissatisfaction. It seems that through his imperfect knowledge of English, he had misconceived the position of the celebrated Thomas Norman Gadsden, whom he imagined to be something like an infernal machine, made and provided by the good citizens of Charleston to catch bad niggers. “Nora-ma Gazine no catch-e me, Cap-i-tan, if me go ashore, 'case me no make trouble in no part de world where me sail, Oh! no, Cap-i-tan, Manuel know how to mine dis bisness,” said he returning again to the Captain.
“Yes, yes, Manuel, but we can't let the crew go ashore 'till we get through the custom-house; you must content yourself to-night, and in the morning 'twill be all right. I'm afraid you'll get sick again-the night-air is very bad in this climate; old Gadsden won't trouble you. He don't walk about at night.”
Manuel walked forward, not very well satisfied with the manner in which the Captain put him off. The latter felt the necessity of caution, fearing he might infringe upon some of the municipal regulations that the pilot had given him an account of, which accounted for his refusal Manuel sat upon the main-hatch fondling Tommy, and telling him what good things they would have in the morning for breakfast, and how happy they ought to be that they were not lost during the gales, little thinking that he was to be the victim of a merciless law, which would confine him within the iron grates of a prison before the breakfast hour in the morning. “I like Charleston, Tommy,” said Manuel; “it looks like one of our old English towns, and the houses have such pretty gardens, and the people they say are all so rich and live so fine. Tommy, we'll have a long walk and look all around it, so that we can tell the folks when we get home. The ship, owes me eleven pounds, and I mean to take some good things home for presents, to show what they have in South Carolina.”
“You better buy a young nigger, and take him home as a curiosity to show among the Highlands. You can buy a young Sambo for any price, just the same as you would a leg of mutton at the butcher's; put him in a band-box, lug him across, and you'll make a fortune in the North country. But I'd rather buy a young wife, for the young niggers are more roguish than a lot o' snakes, and al'a's eat their heads off afore they're big enough to toddle. They sell gals here for niggers whiter than you are, Manuel; they sell 'em at auction, and then they sell corn to feed 'em on. Carolina's a great region of supersensual sensibility; they give you a wife of any color or beauty, and don't charge you much for her, providing you're the right stripe. What a funny thing it would be to show the Glasgow folks a bright specimen of a bought wife from the renowned State of South Carolina, with genuine aristocratic blood in her veins; yes, a pure descendant of the Huguenots!” said the mate, who was leaning over the rail where Manuel and Tommy were seated, smoking a segar and viewing the beautiful scenery around the harbor.
“Ah!” said Manuel, “when I get a wife and live on shore, I don't want to buy one-it might be a dangerous bargain. Might buy the body, but not the soul-that's God's.”
CHAPTER VIII. A NEW DISH OF SECESSION.
ABOUT a quarter past eight o'clock in the evening, Master George, as he called himself, the little pedantic man, came skipping down the wharf. As soon as he approached the brig, he cried out at the top of his voice, “Captain! Captain!!”
The Captain stepped to the gangway, and the little fellow, who had stood crossing and working his fingers, reached out his hand to assist him ashore. This done, he took the Captain's arm, and commencing a discourse upon the wonderful things and people of South Carolina they wended their way to the Charleston Theatre. The company then performing was a small affair, and the building itself perfectly filthy, and filled with an obnoxious stench. The play was a little farce, which the Captain had seen to much perfection in his own country, and which required some effort of mind to sit out its present mutilation. Yet, so highly pleased was Master George, that he kept up a succession of applauses at every grimace made by the comedian. Glad when the first piece was over, the Captain made a motion to adjourn to the first good bar-room and have a punch. It was agreed, upon the condition that the little man should “do the honor,” and that they should return and see the next piece out. The Captain, of course, yielded to the rejoinder, though it was inflicting a severe penalty upon his feelings. There was another piece to come yet, which the little fellow's appetite was as ready to devour as the first. The Captain, seeing this, could not refrain expressing his surprise. This was taken as a charge against his taste, and George immediately commenced a discussion upon the subject of the piece, the intention of the author, and the merits of the principal performers, whose proper adaptation he admired. The Captain knew his subject, and instead of contending in detail, advised him to take a peep into the theatres of New York and London. Not to be undone, for he was like all little men, who insist upon the profoundness of their own opinions, he asserted that it could be only the different views which individuals entertained of delineating character, and that the Charlestonians were proverbially correct in their judgment of music and dramatic performances.
“I pity the judgment that would award merit to such a performance as that,” said the Captain.
“How strange, that you Englishmen and Scotchmen always find fault with every thing we Americans do. Your writers manifest it in their books upon us and the people seem of necessity to copy from them, and echo their grumblings,” rejoined Master George.
“You judge from the common saying, instead of a knowledge front observation, I fear,” said the Captain.
“Lord, sir! you must not judge me by that rule. Carolinians, sir, always appreciate intelligent strangers, for they always exert a healthy influence, and never meddle with our institutions; so you see it wouldn't do to follow the pestilent notions of petty scribblers, lest we should form wrong opinions.”
“But tell me,” said the Captain, “do you consider yourselves Americans in South Carolina?—the pilot must have led me astray.”
“Americans! yes, indeed, the true blood at that, and no man of tip-top judgment ever questioned it. But you must mark the difference; we ha'n't Yankees, nor we don't believe in their infernal humbuggery about abolition. If it wasn't for South Carolina and Georgia, the New-Englanders would starve for want of our cotton and rice. It's the great staple what keeps the country together; and as much as they talk about it, just take that away, and what would the United States be? We South Carolinians give no symptoms or expressions of what we mean to do that we cannot maintain. We have been grossly insulted by the Federal Government, but it dar'n't come at us and just give us a chance at fair fight. We'd show 'em the thunder of the Palmetto, that they'd never trouble our sovereignty again. Captain, I pledge you my honor that if there wasn't so many infernal Yankees in Georgia, and she'd follow our lead in secession, we'd just lick the whole North. Georgia's a big State, but she a'n't pluck, and has no chivalry at all among her people. She allows such privileges to them Yankees-gives them power to control her manufacturing interests-and this is just what will uproot the foundation of their slave institution. Georgians a'n't a bit like us; first, they are too plebeian in their manners-have no bond of guardianship for their laws, and exert no restraints for the proper protection of good society. But, Captain, their stock has a different origin, and the peculiarity which now marks our character may be traced to the offspring of early settlement. We derived our character and sentiments from the Huguenots; they, from an uncharacterized class of coarse adventurers, whose honesty was tinctured with penal suspicion. This, sir, accounts for the differences so marked in our character.”
The little fellow pressed this kind of conversation in the lobby of the theatre, and at the same time took the very particular pleasure of introducing the Captain to several of the young bloods, as he called them, while they walked to and from the boxes. At length the Captain found himself in a perfect hornet's nest, surrounded by vicious young secessionists, so perfectly nullified in the growth that they were all ready to shoulder muskets, pitchforks, and daggers, and to fire pistols at poor old Uncle Sam, if he should poke his nose in South Carolina. The picture presented was that of an unruly set of children dictating their opinions to a hoary-headed old daddy-accusing him of pragmatism, and threatening, if he was twice as old, they'd whip him unless he did as they directed. The knowledge of South Carolina's power and South Carolina's difficulties with the Federal Government he found so universally set forth as to form the atmosphere of conversation in the parlor, the public-house, the school and the bar-room, the lecture-room and the theatre.
The little man extended his invitation to a party of the bloods. The Captain was taken by the arms in a kind of bond fellowship, and escorted into Baker's eating-saloon, a place adjacent to the theatre, and, to a man unaccustomed to the things that are in Charleston, a very rowdy place. This is considered by Charlestonians one of the finest places in the Southern country; where good suppers and secession (the all-engrossing subjects with Charlestonians) form the only important element of conversation. It may be set down as a fact, that among seven-tenths of the people of Charleston, the standard of a gentleman is measured according to his knowledge of secession and his ability to settle the question of hot suppers. We say nothing of that vigorous patriotism so often manifested in a long string of fulsome toasts that disgrace the columns of the Mercury and Courier.
At Baker's the place was literally crowded with all kinds and characters, graded from the honorable judge down to the pot-boy; a pot-pouri of courtesy and companionship only exhibited in England on the near approach of elections. The reader may think this strange, but we can assure him that distinctions are strangely maintained; an exclusive arrogance being observed in private life, while a too frequent and general resort to bar-rooms has established plebeianism in public. Voices were sounding at all parts of the counter, and for as many different voices as many different mixtures were named. The Captain received a great many introductions, and almost as many invitations to drink; but the little man, Master George, claimed the exclusive honor, and keeping an eye wide awake, took the advantage of his own dimensions, and began working his way through a barricade of bodies and elbows, until he had reached the counter. His party followed close, at his heels. Altogether, they called for cocktails, smashes, toddies, cobblers, juleps, and legitimates. These disposed of, the company repaired to what is called a “box up-stairs.” Scarcely seated, Master George rang the bell with such violence that he disjointed the cord and tassel, and gave such an alarm that three or four darkies came poking their alarmed countenances through the curtains at once.
“There's nothing like making the fellows mind; they've got so infernal independent here, and old Tom thinks so much of his young wife, that his niggers have begun to imitate him. One's enough at a time!” said Master George, with all the importance of his character. A “bright boy,” with his hair nicely parted on the middle of his head, and frizzed for the occasion, made a polite bow, while the others retired.
“What have you choice for supper, to-night? We want something ripe for the palate-none of your leavings, now, you infernal nigger, and don't tell us none of your lies.”
“Birds, sir, grouse, woodcock, partridge, canvas-backs, and quails; meats, venison, and oysters, master-did up in any shape what the gentlemen wish. Wines, &c., if they want,” replied the servant, without any of the negro dialect, at the same time making a low bow to Master George.
“Name it! name your dishes, gentlemen! Don't be backward. I suppose his birds are as usual, without age to flavor them. It's perfectly heathenish to eat birds as they are served here: we never get a bird here that is sufficiently changed to suit a gentleman o' taste; their beef's tough, and such steak as they make is only fit for shoemakers and blacksmiths. I never come into the place but I think of my journey in France, where they know the style and taste of a gentleman, and things are served to suit your choice.” Thus our little friend continued his connoisseur remarks, to give the Captain a particular idea of his proficiency in the requisite qualities, age, and time of keeping necessary to make the adjuncts of a supper fit for a gentleman. “D—me! we don't know when edibles are choice, and the Yankees are perfect brutes in these things, and have no more taste than a cow. Our folks ought to all go to France for a year or two, to learn the style of cooking. It's perfect murder to eat a bird the very day after it's killed; yes, sir! no man that considers his stomach will do it,” said George.
The servant waited impatiently-the Captain rubbed his eyes, and began to pour out a glass of water; and dryly said he'd no choice, which was responded to by the rest. It was left to Master George, and he ordered a bountiful supply of grouse, partridges, oyster, and champagne of his favourite brand-none other. There was also a billiard-room, reading-room, a room for more important gambling, and a bar-room, up-stairs. All these were well filled with very well-dressed and very noisy people; the latter being a very convenient place, the party sent to it for tipplers to fill up time.
“This is but a small portion of what constitutes life in Charleston, Captain. We live for living's sake, and don't stand upon those blueskin theories of temperance and religion that Yankees do, and blame the Father of generations for not making the world better. I never saw one of them that wasn't worse than we Southerners before he'd been in Charleston a year, and was perfect death on niggers. Yes, sir, it's only the extreme goodness of the Southern people's hearts that makes the niggers like them so. I never saw a Northerner yet that wouldn't work his niggers to death in two years. D—me, sir, my servants all love me as if I was a prince. Have you ever been in France, sir?” said he, suddenly breaking off. The Captain replied in the affirmative.
“Ah! then you can speak French! the most polished language known to refined society. I wouldn't part with my French for the world. All the first families in Charleston are familiar with it. It's the modern gentleman's curt-blanche to society here. There's no language like it for beauty and flexibility; but one must go to France and learn to acquire its grace and ease,” said he, in rapid succession, rolling out his words in imitation of a London sprig of the Inner Temple, and working his little mastiff mouth.
“No, sir,” said the Captain quaintly. “I never stopped long enough in France to get hold of the lingo.”
“God bless me, what a misfortune! and can't speak it yet, ah? Why, Captain, if you wanted to court a petite madmoselle, you'd be in a sad fix-she wouldn't understand what you were talking about and would take your love-pledges for gammon.”
“You're mistaken there, my good fellow. Love grows on trees in France, and a French woman can see it before you begin to tell her about it!” retorted the Captain, which brought a “Good! good! hit him again!” from the whole party. At this, Master George commenced reading the Captain a disquisition upon the best mode of acquiring the French language. Supper was brought-in old Tom Baker's best flourish-and the party begun to discuss its merits with great gusto. What the little, chivalrous fellows lacked in physical dimension, they made up in patriotic sentiment in behalf of the grand sovereignty of South Carolina, which they continued to pour out until a late hour, every man backing his sayings by the authority of the great and wonderful Calhoun.
The Captain sat eating away, and seeming more disposed to enjoy the physical consolation of his supper than to elevate his ideas upon South Carolina's politics.
“Now, Captain,” said Master George, in a very serious tone, after he had been striking his hand upon the marble table for more than an hour to confirm the points of his reasoning,—“what is your opinion of the great question at issue between the Federal Government and South Carolina? And what do you think of the Old Dominion? how will she stand upon the test-question?”
The poor Captain looked confounded-took another oyster, and began to get his mouth in a fix, while little George worked his fingers through his nice curly hair, and the young bloods awaited the rejoinder with anxiety.
“Really, sir, you have the advantage of me in your question. It is so much beyond my profession that I am entirely ignorant of the subject-therefore could not give an opinion. In truth, sir, I do not know the purport of the question. It has given me pleasure and information to listen to your conversation and the ability you displayed in argument, but, as a stranger, I could take no part,” replied the Captain very sincerely.
Not content with this, Master George wished to be more direct. “It's the right of secession, Captain-the power to maintain the right by the constitution.”
“Probably; but may I expose my ignorance by inquiring what is meant by secession? and to what it is applied so frequently?” inquired the Captain.
“Oh! murder Captain; have you never heard of nullification times! Well, sir, you must be posted on the affairs of our government.” So he commenced an analysis of nearly an hour long, and in it gave some astonishing accounts of the wonderful statesmanship of Calhoun, Butler, and Rhett, tapering down with a perfect fire-and-thunder account of the military exploits of General Quattlebum and Captain Blanding. The Captain began to stretch and gape, for he labored under the fatigue of a perilous voyage, and repose was the only sovereign remedy. He felt that the limits of propriety were entirely overstepped, and that he would have reason to remember the first night spent with little George the secessionist.
“But, Captain! my dear fellow. I see you don't understand our position yet. We've been insulted; yes, most rascally insulted by the Federal Government, and they keep it up every year. We can't get our rights. Oh! no, sir, there's no such thing in the knowledge of the Federal officers as justice for South Carolina; and you must understand, Captain, that she is the greatest State in the Union, and there a'n't nothing like her people for bravery. The political power's got North and West, the old constitution is being dissected to suit the abolitionists, and they're drawing the cordon around us faster and faster; and they're now out like a warrior boldly to the conquest, sounding their voices in the halls of Congress, appealing to human and divine power to protect their nonsense, and bidding defiance to our constitutional rights, Our slaves are our property, protected by the law of God-by that inspired and superhuman wisdom that founded our great and glorious constitution. Yes, sir! it was an institution entailed upon us by our forefathers, and a wise providence has provided proper laws by which we shall protect and see these poor miserable devils of helpless slaves, that can't take care of themselves, straight through.”
“But how does this affect you and the Federal Government?” inquired the Captain.
“Why, sir, most directly!” replied Master George, screwing his mouth and giving his head a very learned attitude. “Directly, sir!—the Federal Government is acquiescing in every abolition scheme that is put forward by that intriguing Northern compact for the establishment of new governments in the territories. She is granting unconstitutional privileges to designing politicians, whose chief aim is to uproot our domestic institution and destroy the allegiance of the slave to his master, by which the slaves would be cast upon the world unprotected, and we disarmed of power to protect them. Ah! sir, I tell you, of all fruits of the imagination that would be the most damnable, and the slave would be the sufferer. It would be worse for him, poor fellow; it would be an abuse of human power without precedent. So far as political power is concerned, we are nearly disarmed. The influx of population finds its way into the opened avenues of the North and West. And with opinions predisposed against our institutions, and the contaminating influence standing ready with open arms to embrace the great current, what can we expect? It's the increasing power made by foreign influx that's giving tone to our government. If our Southern Convention stand firm we are saved; but I'm fearful there's too many doubtful shadows in it that won't stand to the gun. That's what's always played the devil with us,” said George, striking his hand upon the table. “There's no limitation to their interpositions, and their resolves, and their adjournments; which don't come up to my principles of making the issue, and standing to the question with our coffins on our backs. These condescensions of thought and feeling arise from the misconceived notions of a few, who are always ready to join, but never willing to march to action, and must not be taken as a specimen of South Carolina bravery. The Federal Government has become vicious and even puerile toward South Carolina; and since the Herculean power of the great Calhoun is gone, it treats us like a semi-barbarous and secluded people, mistaking our character. But we'll learn the Federal Government a lesson yet.”
“Do not your legislators make laws for your government, or how is it that you express such a restive dissatisfaction? Do not the same laws which govern you, govern the whole of the slave States?”
Little George had previously monopolized all the conversation, but at this juncture five or six voices broke out, each fired with a reply to the Captain's question; and yet the answer was of the same old stamp: What South Carolina had done-how she had fought and gained the Mexican war-how she was interested in slaves, and how she yet feared to strike the blow because a set of mere adventurers had got the power to vote in her elections, and cowards through them had got into the legislature.
“Why, gentlemen, listen to me in this particular. If”—
“Your oysters are getting cold, George,” interrupted a blood at his left, rather facetiously.
“I claim the respect due a gentleman, sir! A South Carolinian will transgress no rules of etiquette,” said George, grasping his tumbler in a passionate manner and smashing it upon the marble slab, causing a sudden emeute in the camp. “Order! order! order!” was sounded from every tongue. “You mustn't be afeard, Captain,” said one of the party. “This is perfectly South Carolinian-just the oscillating of the champagne; it won't last long.”
The noise was more loud than ordinary, and brought a score of people around to hear the trouble. George had got in high dudgeon, and it took several persons to hold him, while the remainder, not excepting the Captain, were engaged in a pacification. The scene was very extravagant in folly; and through the kind interposition of friends, the matter was settled to the honorable satisfaction of both parties-the question was called for-the Captain called for a legitimate, rubbed his eyes, and little George proceeded. “If my friend Thomas Y. Simmons, Jr., had been elected to the legislature he'd altered the position of things in South Carolina. All these corruptions would have been exposed, and the disparity of party would have dwindled into obscurity. Every true Carolinian voted for him to the hilt, but how was he defeated? Gentlemen, can you answer? it will be a favor highly gratifying to me to hear your opinions!” A voice answered, “Because he wasn't big enough!” “No, sir,” said George, “it was because there was intrigue in the party, and the Yankee influence went to put him down. The world'll hear from him yet. He's my particular friend, and will stand in the halls of Congress as great a statesman as ever lisped a political sentiment.”
George's account of his particular friend, Thomas Y. S—, Jr., was so extravagant, and not having heard of him before, the Captain's curiosity was aroused to know who he was and where he resided. We will not tax the reader with George's wonderful memoir of his friend, but merely inform him that “little Tommy Simmons,” as he is usually styled in Charleston, is an exact pattern of Master George, with the exception of his mouth, which is straight and regular; and if we may be allowed to condescend to the extremes, we should say that the cordwainer had done more for his heels. Otherwise, no daguerreotype could give a counterpart more correct. Tommy is a very small member of the Charleston bar, who, though he can seldom be seen when the court is crowded, makes a great deal of noise without displaying power of elucidation or legal abilities, yet always acquitting himself cleverly. Tommy was little George in two particulars-he had studied law, and was a great secessionist; and if George had never practised, it was only from inclination, which he asserted arose from a humane feeling which he never could overcome-that he never wished to oppress anybody. But the greatest contrast that the reader can picture to himself between mental and physical objects existed between Tommy's aspirations and the physical man. His mind was big enough, and so was his self-confidence, to have led the Assyrian and Chaldean army against the Hebrews. To this end, and to further the formula of his statesmanship, no sooner was he twenty-one, and the corner just turned, than he sounded his war-trumpet-secession or death!—mounted the rostrum and “stump'd it,” to sound the goodness and greatness of South Carolina, and total annihilation to all unbelievers in nullification. It was like Jonah and the whale, except the swallowing, which spunky Tommy promised should be his office, if the Federal Government didn't toe the mark. Yes, Tommy was a candidate for the legislature, and for the Southern Congress, (which latter was exclusively chivalrous;) and the reader must not be surprised when we tell him that he lacked but a few votes of being elected to the former. Such was the voice of the Charleston district.
Supper had been discussed down to the fragments, and all expressed their satisfaction of the quantity and declined any more; but George called on another bottle of champagne, and insisted that the party should take a parting glass. The servant had begun to extinguish the lights-a sure sign that the success of the bar was ended for the night. George reprimanded the negro-the sparkling beverage was brought, glasses filled up, touched, and drunk with the standing toast of South Carolina. A motion to adjourn was made and seconded, and the party, feeling satisfied with their evening's recreation, moved off accordingly.
CHAPTER VIII. A FEW POINTS OF THE LAW.
IN Charleston, such an adjournment at a bar-room or an eating-house, when parties are enjoying what is termed a “pleasant occasion,” does not mean an adjournment to the domestic fireside; nor are the distinctions between married and single men regarded, though domestic attachments may be considered as governing the thoughts and feelings. The practical definition of such an adjournment means to some place where beauty secludes itself to waste in shame.
The party descended into the lower bar-room, which, though rather thinned, presented a picture of characters stimulated to the tottering point. A motion had been made and strongly seconded to visit the voluptuous house of a certain lady, which it is considered a stranger has not seen Charleston until he has visited. The Captain remonstrated against this, assuring the party that he must go to the ship and needed rest. Again and again they insisted, setting forth the charms and beauty of the denizens, but he as often declined in the most positive manner. Unable to move him in his resolution, one by one began to give him a hearty shake of the hand and bid him good-night, leaving little Master George to the exclusive honor of seeing him home.
Standing in the centre of the room, surrounded by five or six persons well-dressed but very weak in the knees, was a portly-looking gentleman; with very florid countenance, keen dark eyes, and aquiline nose which he frequently fingered. There was an air of respectability about him, though his countenance was not marked with any particularly prominent feature to distinguish him from the ordinary class of respectable men. He spoke well, yet without taste or discrimination in his language, was rather bald and gray, with small head and low perceptive powers; and judging from the particular tone of his voice and the cant terms he used, we should think he had figured among the Kentucky horse-traders, or made stump speeches in Arkansas. His dress was inclined to the gaudy. He wore a flashy brown-colored frock-coat with the collar laid very far back, a foppish white vest exposing his shirt-bosom nearly down to the waistbands of his pants, which were of gray stripes. But the more fanciful portions of his dress were a large and costly fob-chain, which hung very low and supported an immense seal containing a glistening stone, which he seemed very fond of dangling with his left hand. Attached to this was a very prominently displayed black ribbon, answering the purpose of a guard-chain, and laid with great contrasting care over the bosom of his shirt. This, with a neckerchief of more flashy colors than Joseph's coat, and a late style Parisian hat, with the rim very exquisitely turned upon the sides, make up our man.
He was discussing politics, with a great many sensible sayings, though nothing like close reasoning; and strange as it may seem, he was strongly opposed to the rabid views of several staggering secessionists, who surrounded him, and advocated the views set forth in convention by Mr. Butler. We remarked this more particularly, for it was about the only instance we witnessed of a public man being independent enough to denounce the fanaticism of secession. A more amusing scene than that presented by the attitudes-the questions in regard to South Carolina licking the Federal Government-the strange pomp-ribald gasconade, and high-sounding chivalry of the worthies, cannot be imagined. They were in a perfect ecstasy with themselves and South Carolina, and swore, let whatever come, they were ready to meet it.
Little Master George seemed very anxious that the Captain should become acquainted with him, and commenced giving him a monstrous account of his distinguished abilities. “And that's not all!” said George; “he's not only one of the greatest characters in Charleston, or perhaps the State, but he's a right good fellow.”
We will interrupt, by informing the reader that he was one of the good fellows-a numerous family in Charleston-who never use fine instruments when they select their company; and pay a large amount of worthy tribute to the liquor-dealers. There is no discriminating latitude attached to the good-fellow family, for its members may be found with alike gratifying inclinations, from the highest aristocracy to the negro population.
“That, sir, is Col. S—e; belongs to one of the first families, sir. He can beat old Pettigru all hollow; his eloquence is so thrilling that he always reminds me of Pericles. He can beat little Thomas Y. Simmons, Jr., all to pieces-make the best stump speech-address a public assemblage, and rivet all their minds-can make a jury cry quicker than any other man-can clear the worst criminal that ever committed crime-and he's good-hearted too-can draw the most astonishing comparisons to confound the minds of stupid jurors, and make them believe the d—dest nonsense that ever man invented. Yes, sir-when he makes a speech, everybody goes to hear him, for he says what he pleases, and old Judge Withers, whose will is as arbitrary as Julius Caesar's, and has got the obstinacy of Tom Boyce's mule, dar'n't attempt to control the tenor of his plea. And he can tell the best invented story of any man in town. He cleared the villanous Doctor Hines once upon the color of his pantaloons.”
George waited impatiently for the end of the political controversy, determined to introduce his friend to the colonel. He soon had an opportunity, for the colonel, finding himself beset by a set of unreasonable secessionists, made a sweeping declaration. “Gentlemen,” said he, “let me tell you a modest fact: seven-eighths of the secession fire-eaters don't know what the proper meaning of government is: I make the charge against my own people-but it is true.” “Traitor! traitor!—traitor to South Carolina,” was sounded at the top of a dozen voices.
“Then, if I am such in your opinions, I'm gratified to know that my feelings are my own. Good-night!”
Thus saying, he withdrew from the party, and making his way for the door, was saluted by George, who introduced him to his friend, the Captain. The colonel was a very sociable, communicative man; and taking the Captain's arm, as they walked along, entered into an interesting conversation about his voyage and first visit to the city, at the same time displaying his good sense in not trying to force the great things of South Carolina into his mind.
We, a few weeks afterward, had the good fortune to hear the legal abilities of this gentleman displayed in a plea at the bar. There were many good points in it, which, if not legally pointed, were said well; yet we should class him as belonging to the loud school.
The Captain, thinking it a good opportunity to make some inquiries about his steward, as they proceeded, commenced in the following manner:
“Your laws are very stringent in South Carolina, I believe, sir!”
“Well, no sir,” said the colonel, “if we except those which govern the niggers; they of necessity must be so; we have had so many emeutes with them, that no law can be made too strict in its bearings. We have so many bad niggers poured in upon us, that the whole class is becoming corrupted.”
“Your laws, of course, make a distinction between good and bad niggers, and free negroes?” interposed the Captain.
“We make no distinction between the colors—some are as white as you are; but the grades are so complex that it would be impossible to make a sliding-scale law for any fixed complexions. The law which governs them is distinctive and comprehensive-made in order to shield the white population from their ignorance of law and evidence. We never could govern them in their respective spheres, unless the laws were made stringent in their effect. As for the free niggers, they're the greatest nuisance we have; it is our policy to get rid of them, and to that end we tax them severely. The riddance of this class of niggers would be an essential benefit to our slaves, as upon account of their influence our negro-laws are made more stringent. And the worst of it is that they increase faster. But we make it a principal point to get all the free men we can married to slaves, and the free women run off. You, that are accustomed to the free institutions of your country, may think some of these things singular at first; but you would soon become accustomed to them, and would really admire them when you saw how beautifully they worked.”
“Is there no discretionary power left?” inquired the Captain. “It must be oppressive, if carried out; Good men-whether they be white or black-are entitled to the advantages due them; but where laws such as you describe are carried out, a good man's evidence being black, the intention could not be made white. Now, according to my idea of the law of nature, a man's merits are in his moral integrity and behaviour; therefore I should establish the rule that a good black man was better than a bad white man, and was as much entitled to the respect and government of law.”
“Hi!—oh! Captain; it won't do to talk so in South Carolina. Just let a nigger imagine himself as good as a white man, and all the seven codes in Christendom wouldn't keep 'em under. Ah! you've got to learn a thing or two about niggers yet,” interrupted Master George, before the Colonel had time to speak.
“I only speak from my observation of human nature; but I may become better acquainted with your laws, if I remain among you,” said the Captain.
“As I have said before sir,” replied the Colonel, “our nigger-laws are such as to require a strict enforcement. If we allowed the prerogative of a discretionary power, it would open the way to an endless system of favoritism, just at the mercy and feelings of those exercising it. As it is now, the white or black nigger, male or female, gets the same law and the same penalty. We make no distinction even at the paddle-gallows. The paddle-gallows is a frame with two uprights, and a wrench screw at the top. The negro's hands are secured in iron wristlets-similar to handcuffs; a rope is then attached to an eye in these, and passing over the wrench, which being turned, the negro is raised in an agonizing position until the tips of his toes scarcely touch the floor. Thus suspended, with the skin stretched to its utmost tension, it not unfrequently parts at the first blow of the paddle. Sometimes the feet are secured, when the effect of this modern science of demonstrating the tension of the human body for punishment becomes more painful under the paddle. South Carolinians deny this mode of punishment generally, and never allow strangers to witness it. It is not, as some writers have stated, practised in Georgia, where, we are happy to say, that so far as punishment is conducted in a legal manner, at the jails and prisons, it is administered in a humane manner; and instead of turning modern barbarity into a science, as is, done in South Carolina, a strict regard for the criminal is observed. I will relate some singular facts connected with the strictness with which we South Carolinians carry out our laws. And now that we are on the spot connected with it, its associations are more forcibly impressed on my mind. It brings with it many painful remembrances, and, were we differently situated, I should wish the cause to be removed. But it cannot be, and we must carry out the law without making allowances, for in these little leniencies all those evils which threaten the destruction of our peculiar institution creep in. In fact, Captain, they are points of law upon which all our domestic quietude stands; and as such, we are bound to strengthen our means of enforcing them to the strictest letter. Our laws are founded upon the ancient wisdom of our forefathers, and South Carolina has never traduced herself or injured her legal purity. We have reduced our system almost to a practical science, so complete in its bearings and points of government as to be worthy the highest and noblest purposes of our country. And at the same time, such is the spirit and magnanimity of our people, that in framing laws to guard against the dangerous influences of that wing of our country that spreads its ambitious fallacies—its tempting attractions-shallow criticisms upon minute and isolated cases-redundant theories without measure or observation, and making a standard for the government of slaves upon foolish and capricious prejudices, we have been careful to preserve a conservative moderation toward the slave. But, to my remarks.”
The party had now arrived opposite to what was formerly known as Jones's Hotel, where the Colonel made a halt to relate the singular case that had pained his feelings, though he held very tenaciously to the law as it was, because he believed strongly in the wisdom of the South Carolina judiciary.
“Our first and great object is to prevent the interchange of sentiment between our domestic niggers, whether bond or free, and niggers who reside abroad or have left our State; To do this, it became imperative to establish a law prohibiting free negroes from coming into the State, and those in the State from going out, under penalty of imprisonment and fine, if they returned. The penalty amounted to sale upon a peon form; and subjected the offender to the slave system in a manner that he seldom retrieved himself. You will observe, Captain, the penalty is not desired by our people, the object being to prevent them from returning, and as such it must be taken in the spirit of its origin. Another very wise provision was made by our legislators, and which has prevented a great deal of suffering on the part of the slave. A few years ago, our wise legislature made a law to revert the power of emancipation from the board of magistrates where it had been very much abused, to the House itself. And such is the law at the present day, that no master can give his slaves their freedom, except by special act of the legislature, and that with such a multiplicity of provisions and conditions that few even attempt it. But I'm about to refer to cases in which some modification might be said to have been necessary, because in them are embodied the worst germs for abolition speculation.
“That, Captain, is Jones's Hotel,” said the Colonel, pointing to an odd-looking house of antique and mixed architecture, with a large convex window above the hall-entrance, in the second story. This house is situated in Broad street, next to the aristocratic St. Michael's Church, one of the most public places in the city. “In years past, that house was kept by Jones, a free nigger. Jones was almost white, a fine portly-looking man, active, enterprising, intelligent, honest to the letter, and whose integrity and responsibility was never doubted. He lived in every way like a white man, and, I think, with few exceptions, never kept company with even bright folks. His house was unquestionably the best in the city, and had a widespread reputation. Few persons of note ever visited Charleston without putting up at Jones's, where they found, not only the comforts of a private house, but a table spread with every luxury that the county afforded. The Governor always put up at Jones's; and when you were travelling abroad, strangers would speak of the sumptuous fare at Jones's in Charleston, and the elegance and correctness of his house. But if his house and fare were the boast of Carolinians, and the remark of strangers, his civility and courteous attention could not be outdone. Jones continued in the popularity of his house for many years, reared a beautiful, intelligent, and interesting family; at the same time accumulated about forty thousand dollars. The most interesting part of his family was three beautiful daughters, the eldest of whom was married to a person now in New York. She was fairer than seven-eighths of those ladies who term themselves aristocracy in Charleston, and promenade King street in the afternoon.
“She removed to New York with her husband, who now resides in that city, engaged in lucrative and respectable business. A short time after, her second sister-not dreaming that the law would be so stringent as to class her with the lowest nigger, or even lay its painful bearings at her door; for the family were very high-minded, and would have considered themselves grossly insulted to have the opprobrious name of nigger applied to them-paid her a visit. The public became acquainted with the fact, and to his surprise, Jones was informed by authority that upon no condition could she be allowed to return-that the law was imperative, and no consideration could be given to the circumstances, for such would be virtually destroying its validity, and furnishing a precedent that would be followed by innumerable cases. In spite of all the remonstrances which Jones could set forth, and the influence of several friends of high standing, he was compelled to relinquish all hope of his daughter's being allowed to return to the family. The reasoning set forth had every plausibility; but such is our respect for the law, that we were compelled to forego our hospitality, and maintain it, even though the case was painful to our feelings. Thus, you see, we maintain the point and spirit of the law above every thing else.
“But the end is not here! A few years after this, Jones received a letter, that his daughter was very sick and not expected to live-accompanied with a desire to have the last soothing comfort of seeing her parents. Jones being an affectionate man, and dotingly fond of his children, without regarding the former admonition, immediately prepared himself, and left in disguise for New York. Mature consideration would have convinced him of the error of one so well known as himself trying to elude recognition.
“His son-in-law, Lee, a noble fellow, kept the house, and when Jones was inquired for, it was reported that he was confined to his room. It would have been well if Jones had kept himself secluded in New York; but he was recognised by a Charlestonian, and, as such reports have uncommon wings, the news of it soon reached the authorities; when a mandate was issued accordingly, and Jones subjected to the fate of his daughter. There are many painful circumstances connected with the affair, which, if well told, would make quite a romance,” said the Colonel, all of which the Captain listened to with profound attention. “His family all moved to New York, and his affairs were put into the hands of attorneys here, for settlement, by his son-in-law, who continued the business for some years.”
“Of course he got his property restored to him?” interrupted the Captain.
“Most certainly, Captain! The spirit of justice is coequal with that of honorable law, in South Carolina,” said George, anxious to relieve the Colonel of the answer.
“It is somewhat difficult to settle a man's business by legal process when the principal is not present. The law's delay and lawyers' spoils make time hallowed and costly,” said the Captain.
“You're right there, Captain,” said the Colonel; “and I doubt-to speak honestly-whether Jones ever got much of his property. There's a good many stories told, and a great deal of mystery about it that's got to be explained to my mind. But you're a stranger, Captain, and it would not be interesting to the feelings of a Scotchman. I may give you the details more minutely at some future day.”
“Why, Colonel!” said George, “you should be considerate in your statements. Remember the immense difficulty that has attended Jones's affairs-they're not all settled yet.”
“True, George; and I'm afraid they never will be;—but there are some very singular appearances connected with it. I mean no personal disrespect toward those cousins of yours who have figured in the case. 'Tis bad to call names, but there is a mystery about a certain member of our profession getting rich, when poor Jones declares he's got nothing, and Lee has had to give up the house,—I don't say what for.” * * *
“Yes, strange things must be kept strangely secret in some parts of the world, and only whispered when there's no wind,” said the Captain.
“But that's the only case, Captain,” said George; “and the Colonel was indiscreet in recounting it; for from that you may conceive wrong impressions of the best institutions and laws in the world. Jones was an old fool, led away by his nigger-like affections for them gals of his. He never knew when he was well off, and always wanted to be with white folk when he was here. 'Twould been a great deal better if he'd let them youngest gals gone with Pingree and Allston. They'd have made the tip-top mistresses—been kept like ladies, and not been bothered, and brought all this trouble upon their heads through these infernal abolitionists. I really believe the old fool thought some white man would marry them at one time.”
“What harm would there've been in that, providing they're as white as anybody, and got plenty of money, and were handsome? There must be a singular sensibility, that I don't understand, exerting itself in your society,” said the Captain laconically.
“Harm! You'd find out the harm. Just live in South Carolina a year or two. 'Tisn't the fair complexion-we don't dispute that-but it's the blood.”
“Oh! then the legal objection,” said the Captain, “is what is so revolting to society, eh! It may be sown broadcast in licentiousness, then, and custom sustains an immoral element that is devouring the essential bond of society.”
“Excuse me, Captain,” interrupted the Colonel. “George, you are always taking me upon suppositions. I only related it to the Captain in order to show the power and integrity of our law, and how South Carolinians frequently sacrifice their own interests to maintain it intact. Nothing could be more fatal to its vitality than to make provisions which would entail legal preferences. The law in regard to free niggers leaving the State should be looked upon in the light of protection rather than alienation, for it is made to protect property and society. Yet where a case is attended with such circumstances as that of Jones's, some disposition to accommodate might have been evinced without endangering the State's sovereignty. And I must also differ with you, George, so far as the girls maintained their self-respect. It was commendable in them to get husbands whom they could live with in the bonds of matrimony. My word for it, George, though I am a Southerner, and may give rein to improprieties at times, nothing can be more pernicious to our society than this destructive system of our first people in keeping mistresses. It's a source of misery at best, depending upon expediency instead of obligation, and results in bringing forth children and heirs with an entailed burden upon their lives, to be disowned, cast off from paternal rights, and left to the tender mercies of the law. We see the curse, yet countenance it-and while it devours domestic affections and has cankered the core of social obligations, we look upon it as a flowery garden as we pass by the wayside.. There may be but a shadow between the rightful heir and the doubtful son-the former may enjoy the bounty of his inheritance, but the latter is doomed to know not his sire nor his kinsman, but to suffer the doubts and fears and the dark gloom which broods over a bondman's life.”
“By-je-w-hu! Colonel, what in scissors are you preaching about. You must a' got a pull too much at Bakers's. You're giving vent to real abolition sentiments. Exercise your knowledge of the provision that is made for such children. The Captain will certainly draw incorrect notions about us,” said George, with anxiety pictured on his countenance. He knew the Colonel's free, open, and frank manner of expressing himself, and feared lest the famous name of the chivalry should suffer from his unconscious disclosures.
“Provisions! George, you know my feelings concerning that vice which is so universally practised in our community. If you know of any provision, it's more than I do. Perhaps you are older and have had more experience. 'Tis the want of such a provision that is just destroying our institution of slavery!”
At this juncture the Captain interrupted them, and begging that the Colonel would finish the story about Jones, said he had a few questions to ask them after it was through.
“Well,” said the Colonel, “Jones died, I believe; but his family are as industrious as ever, and have made money enough to live comfortable; but the scamps have turned out perfect helpmates of the abolitionists, and make their intelligence figure at the bottom of many an escape. But Lee's case is as hard as Jones's. His son went to New York to see his grandfather, and was debarred by the same statute of limitations. Lee, however, was a very capable fellow, and after trying for two years, and finding it would be impossible to return to his father, very shrewdly set about some kind of business, and is now largely engaged in the preserve and pickle business. Lee's celebrated pickle and preserve establishment, New York. The father is now in this city, making a living for his family at something or other. He has made several efforts to sell out his little property, but there's some trouble about the title; and if he leaves it to go and see his son, he knows what the consequences will be; and to leave it for settlement would be to abandon it, to the same fate that swallowed up Jones's. Thus the son cannot come to visit his father, nor the father go to visit the son. This, in my opinion, is carrying a prohibition to an extreme point; and although I believe the law should be maintained, I cannot believe that any good arises from it upon such people as the Jones's and Lee's, from the very fact that they never associated with niggers. Hence, where there is no grounds for fear there can be no cause for action,” continued the Colonel.
“Just what I wanted to know,” said the Captain. “As I informed you, I am driven into your port in distress. Charleston, as you are aware, is in an advantageous latitude for vessels to refit that have met with those disasters which, are frequent in the gulf and among the Bahamas. Thus I expected to find good facilities here, without any unkind feeling on the part of the people”—
“Oh! bless me, Captain, you will find us the most hospitable people in the world,” said the Colonel.
“But your pilot told me I would have trouble with my steward, and that the law would make no distinction between his being cast upon your shores in distress and subject to your sympathy, and his coming in voluntarily.”
“What!” said little George. “Is he a nigger, Captain? Old Grimshaw's just as sure to nab him as you're a white man. He'll buy and sell a saint for the fees, and gives such an extended construction to the terms of the act that you need expect no special favor at his hands. The law's no fiction with him. I'm sorry, Captain: you may judge his conduct as an index of that of our people, and I know him so well that I fear the consequences.”
“No!” said the Captain. “My steward is a Portuguese, a sort of mestino, and one of the best men that ever stepped foot aboard a vessel. He is willing, intelligent, always ready to do his duty, and is a great favorite with his shipmates, and saves his wages like a good man-but he is olive complexion, like a Spaniard. He has sailed under the British flag for a great many years, has been 'most all over the world, and is as much attached to the service as if he was a Londoner, and has got a register ticket. Nothing would pain my feelings more than to see him in a prison, for I think he has as proud a notion of honesty as any man I've seen, and I know he wouldn't commit a crime that would subject him to imprisonment for the world. The boys have been pestering the poor fellow, and telling him about some old fellow they heard the pilot speak about, called Norman Gadsden; they tell him if he catches him they'll sell him for a slave.”
“The question is one about which you need give yourself no concern. Our people are not so inhuman but that they will shelter a castaway sailor, and extend those comforts which are due from all humane people. The act under which seamen are imprisoned is the law provided to prohibit free niggers from entering our port, and, in my opinion, was brought into life for the sake of the fees. It's no more nor less than a tax and restriction upon commerce, and I doubt whether it was ever the intention of the framers that it should be construed in this manner. However, so far as your steward is con-cerned, the question of how far his color will make him amenable to the law will never be raised; the mere circumstance of his being a seaman in distress, thrown upon our sympathies, will be all you need among our hospitable people. I'm not aware of a precedent, but I will guaranty his safety from a knowledge of the feelings of our people. Our merchants are, with few exceptions, opposed to the law in this sense, but such is the power and control of a class of inexperienced legislators, prompted by a most trifling clique of office-holders, that their voice has no weight. I am opposed to this system of dragging people into courts of law upon every pretext. It is practised too much in our city for the good of its name.”
Upon this the Colonel and little George accompanied the Captain to his ship, and, expressing their heartfelt regrets at her appearance, bid him good-night-George promising to call upon him in the morning, and the Colonel charging him to give himself no trouble about his steward, that he would see Mr. Grimshaw that night, and make all things straight.
Thus ended the Captain's first night in Charleston, and represented a picture from which he might have drawn conclusions somewhat different from the actual result. Alas! that all the good fellowship and pleasant associations of a people should be disgraced by an absurdity arising from their fears.
The Colonel might have given many other instances equally as painful as that connected with the transportation of Jones and his family, and the fetters that were placed upon poor Lee. He might have instanced that of Malcome Brown, a wealthy, industrious, honest, high-minded, and straightforward man, now living at Aiken, in South Carolina. Brown conducts a profitable mechanical business, is unquestionably the best horticulturist in the State, and produces the best fruit brought to the Charleston market. What has he done to be degraded in the eyes of the law? Why is he looked upon as a dangerous citizen and his influence feared? Why is he refused a hearing through those laws which bad white men take the advantage of? He is compelled to submit to those which were made to govern the worst slaves! And why is he subjected to that injustice which gives him no voice in his own behalf when the most depraved whites are his accusers? Can it be the little crimp that is in his hair? for he has a fairer skin than those who make laws to oppress him. If he inhaled the free atmosphere from abroad, can it be that there is contagion in it, and Malcome Brown is the dreaded medium of its communication? And if the statement rung in our ears be true, “that the free colored of the North suffer while the slave is cared for and comfortable,” why belie ourselves? Malcome's influence is, and always has been, with the whites, and manifestly good in the preservation of order and obedience on the part of the slaves. He pursues his avocation with spirit and enterprise, while he is subjected to menial and oppressive laws. His father visited New York, and was forbidden to return. He appealed again and again, set forth his claims and his integrity to the State and her laws, but all was of no avail. He was hopelessly banished, as it were, from ever seeing his son again, unless that son would sacrifice his property and submit to perpetual banishment from the State. If we reflect upon the many paternal associations that would gladden the hearts of father and child to meet in happy affection, we may realize the effect of that law which makes the separation painful and which denies even the death-bed scene its last cheering consolation.
We have conversed with poor Brown on many occasions, found him a very intelligent man, full of humour, and fond of relating incidents in the history of his family-even proud of his good credit in Charleston. He frequently speaks of his father and the gratifying hope of meeting him at some future day, when he can give vent to his feelings in bursts of affection. He wants his father to return and live with him, because he says he knows they would be more happy together. “I suppose the law was made in justice, and it's right for me to submit to it,” he would say when conversing upon its stringency; and it also seems a sort of comfort to him that he is not the only sufferer.
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.”
The mate and several of the crew being near, at once gathered around him. At the same time Dunn, who was standing at the end of the wharf awaiting the result, thinking Dusenberry was opposed, came to his assistance. The officers and crew knew the respect due to the laws too well to oppose any obstacles to the constables in executing their duty. The mate, in a very polite manner, asked as a favor that they would leave the man a few minutes until the Captain came on deck. They yielded to his solicitation after a great deal of grumbling. The arrest made a deep feeling among the seamen, but none felt it more than little Tommy; he heard the noise upon deck, and came running with tears in his eyes, and cried, “Oh! Manuel, why Manuel, what are they going to take you away for? Won't I see you again, Manuel?” The little fellow's simplicity touched the feelings of all present. But the lame officer, Dunn, stood with a pair of handcuffs in his hand, as unmoved as a stoic, while Dusenberry expressed his impatience, and began to push the boy away, and motion to march him off.
“Hold a bit!” said the mate. “The Captain will be on deck in a few minutes; he wants a word or two with you.”
“We can't stop unless we're compensated for our time. 'Tis no use to delay-'twon't do any good; he's a nigger to all intents and purposes. I know by the curl in his hair-they can't escape me, I've had too much to do with them!” said Dunn. “Yes, to be sure, I can tell a nigger by his ear, if his skin's as white as chalk!” said Dusenberry. “It's all gammon this bringing bright outlandish men here, and trying to pass them off for white folks. 'Twon't stick-you must come up and be registered, and you'll have a good time at the jail, my boy; there's plenty of bright gals in there, and you can have a wife, if you know how to do the courting.”
The Captain now came upon deck; and began to intercede, begging that they would not take Manuel away until he had seen the British Consul. “I know I can make every thing straight. There is no occasion to imprison my steward-he's neither a nigger nor a bad man; and I'll pledge you my honor that he shall not leave the ship, or even go upon the wharf, if you will only allow me to see the Consul before you take any further action,” he continued.
“That is beyond our power, sir; you must see the sheriff-you'll find him in his office bright and early. But you might as well put your appeal in your pocket, or send it to Queen Victoria, for all Consul Mathew can do for you. He's been kicking up a fuss for two years; but he might as well whistle agin a brickbat as to talk his nonsense about English niggers to South Carolina. He'll get tarred and feathered yet, if he a'n't mighty shy about his movements. Sorry, Captain, we can't accommodate you, but we're only actin' for the sheriff, and his orders are imperative to bring him right up. We must lock the fellow up. We don't make the law, nor we ha'n't the power to control it.” Thus saying, Dunn took a little key from his pocket and begun to turn it in the handcuffs.
“What!” said the Captain-“don't attempt to put them things on my man, upon your peril. Is that the way you treat a poor shipwrecked sailor in South Carolina, the State of boasted hospitality? No, sir! I will sacrifice my life before my man shall submit to such a thing,” said the Captain, with his Scotch energy aroused.
“Captain!” said Dunn, “we'd not be takin' the advantage of ye because ye're a stranger, but 'tis the law; and if we accommodates ye, sure it'll be at our own risk. But anyhow, Captain, ye'd be keepin' meself an' this gentleman a long time waiting, 'twouldn't be amiss to be giving us the usual perquisite. You won't miss it, and we've a great deal to do for small fees, that niver compinsate for the accommodation we be's to give everybody-an' the loss of time's the loss of money.”
“Give you a perquisite!—no, indeed; I never pay for such favors. Wait a few moments; I will accompany you myself, if you will not take my honor for his good conduct on the way to prison,” continued the Captain.
“Captain, sure ye needn't trouble yerself anyhow; we'll take yer honor that he don't run away, and if he does ye'll stand the odds at the sheriff's. Sure a case would niver pass Mr. Grimshaw s observation; but to plase ye, and considerin' the wreck, meself and Dusenberry 'll put him up without,” said Dunn.
During the conversation, Manuel plead hard to be heard before the Consul, having a mistaken idea that the Consul could protect him from all danger; and that if he could get a hearing before him, he was sure to be released. The Captain shook his hand and told him to be contented until the Consul's office opened, when he would come to the jail and see him. Manuel then turned to the crew, and shaking the hands of each, took his little bundle in one hand, and holding little Tommy by the other, (who accompanied him to the head of the wharf,) was soon out of sight.
But will the reader believe what was the practice of these petty officers? We can assure them that such instances as the one we shall relate are not only practised in Charleston to an unlimited extent, but the fact is well known to both magistrates and the public; the former treat it as moonshine, and the latter rail against it, but never take proper action.
Scarcely had little Tommy left them at the head of the wharf, before they intimated that it would be well to consider a morning dram. To this end, they walked into a “Dutch corner shop,” and passing into the back room, gave sundry insinuations that could not be misunderstood. “Well! come, who pays the shot?” said Dunn, stepping up to the counter, and crooking his finger upon his nose at a dumpling-faced Dutchman, who stood behind the counter, waiting for his man to name it. The Dutchman was very short and very thick, leaving the impression that he had been very much depressed in his own country when young. He rubbed his hands and flirted his fingers in motion of anxiety, “Every ting vat de shentleman vant him—dare notin like to my zin and brondty vat him got mit ze zity,” said Dutchy.
“Gentlemen, I should be glad to have you drink with me, if it be proper to ask,” said Manuel.
“Oh! yes—certainly, yes!—just what we come for, something to cut away the cobwebs—'twouldn't do to go out in the morning fog without a lining,” said Dunn.
“Name it! name it! shentlemen,” exclaimed the Dutchman, as he rapped his fingers upon the counter, and seemed impatient to draw forth his filthy stuff. They named their drinks, each with a different name. Manuel not being a Charleston graduate in the profession of mixing drinks and attaching slang names to them, Mr. Dusenberry undertook to instruct him in a choice. The Dutchman was an adept at mixing, and the “morning pulls” were soon set out to the extreme satisfaction of Dunn and Dusenberry. “All right! tip her down, my old fellow; none o' yer screwed faces over such liquor as that. We drink on the legitimate, in Charleston, and can put it down until we see stars,” said Dusenberry, addressing himself to Manuel, who was making a wry face, while straining to swallow the cut-throat stuff.
Dusenberry now left Manuel in charge of Dunn, saying he was going out to attend to some business. Manuel drew from his pocket a quarter of a Colombian doubloon, and throwing it upon the counter, told the Dutchman to give him change. The Dutchman picked it up, turned it over several times, and squinting at it, inquired, in a very unpretending manner, what its value was. He knew already, yet this was only done to try Manuel. At the same moment he winked to Dunn, who, stepping up, gave it a significant toss upon the counter. “The divil a bit more than two dollars; all right, Swizer,” said he.
“'Tis four dollar, West Inge-I want my change,” said Manuel, shrugging his shoulders. “I no want no more than my own; and no man to cheat-e me.”
“Don't be bothering with your four dollars-sure ye a'n't in the West Inges now; and money's plenty in Charleston, and I can't bring up so much-half so much. Don't be bothering with yer West Inge nonsense. If ye try to raise a fuss here, I'll make the Captain suffer. Ye must learn that it won't do for a nigger to dispute a white man in Charleston; we'd twitch ye up by the same law; we'd put it to our own niggers, and ye'd git trised up, and about fifty paddles on yer bare butt.” The Dutchman put down a dollar and seventy cents, but Manuel refused to take it up; when this fellow, Dunn, pretending to be the friend of Manuel, held out his hand, and telling the bar-keeper to put another dollar, which he did, he passed it hurriedly into Manuel's hand, and making a pass, told him to put it into his pocket.
It was now about good business time for the Dutchman, and his customers were coming in with their bottles and pots in great numbers. The place was a little filthy hole, very black and dirty, about twelve feet long, and seven feet wide, with a high board counter almost in the centre. The only stock-in-trade that decorated it, was a few barrels of lager beer; several kegs, with names to set forth the different qualities of liquors painted upon them; a bushel basket about half full of onions, and a few salt fish in a keg that stood by the door. Around the room were several benches similar to those in guard-houses. Upon two of them were stretched two ragged and filthy-looking negroes, who looked as if they had been spending the night in debauchery. Dunn, as if to show his authority, limped toward them, and commenced fledging their backs with his hickory stick in a most unmerciful manner, until one poor old fellow, with a lame hand, cried out for mercy at the top of his voice.
“It's a bad business keeping these niggers here all night, Swizer-you know I've done the clean thing with you several times,” said Dunn, pointing his finger at the Dutchman; who winked, and coming from behind the counter, slipped something into his hand, and stepping to the door, assumed some threatning language against the negroes, should they ever came back to his store. A large portion of those who came for liquor were negroes, who looked as if they were parting with their last cent for stimulant, for they were ragged and dirty, and needed bread more than liquor. Their condition seemed pitiful in the extreme, and yet the Dutch “corner-shop keeper” actually got rich from their custom, and so craving was he upon their patronage, that he treated them with much more courtesy than his white customers.
These “Dutch corner-shops” are notorious places in Charleston, and are discountenanced by respectable citizens, because they become the rendezvous of “niggers,” who get into bad habits and neglect their masters' or mistresses' business. Yet the keepers exert such an influence at elections, that the officials not only fear them, but in order to secure their favors, leave their rascality unmolested. Well might a writer in the Charleston Courier of August 31, 1852, say—
“We were astonished, with many others, at the sweeping charges made in the resolutions passed at the HUTCHINSON meeting at Hatch's Hall, and were ready to enlist at once to lend our voice to turn out an 'administration' that for two years permitted 'moral sentiment to be abandoned,' 'truthfulness disregarded,' 'reverence for religion obliterated,' 'protection to religious freedom refused,' 'licentiousness allowed,' 'and a due administration for vice, neglected.'” These charges stand unrefuted, and with but one or two exceptions, we have never known one of those unlawful corner shops prosecuted by the present administration. And those single instances only where they were driven to notice the most flagrant abuses.
It is strictly “contrary to law in Charleston,” to sell liquor to a negro without an order from a white man; the penalty being fine and imprisonment. Yet, so flagrant has become the abuse, that it is notorious that hush-money is paid by a certain class of Dutch liquor-sellers to the officers. In nearly all the streets of Charleston, where there is a shanty or nook large enough to hold a counter and some tumblers, these wretches may be found dealing out their poisonous drugs to a poor, half-starved class of negroes, who resort to all kinds of dishonest means to get money to spend at their counters. These places are nearly all kept by foreigners, whose merciless avarice scruples at nothing, however mean. They soon become possessed of considerable means, and through their courtesy and subserviency to the negro-for they are the only class of whites that will beg his pardon, if they have offended him-carry on a sort of active rivalry with each other for his custom. It is from these miserable hells that seven-tenths of the crimes arise for which the poor negro is dragged to the work-house and made to suffer under the paddle.
And yet these very men, whose connivance at vice and crime is disregarded by the law, rise and take position in society-not only entering into more respectable business-but joining in that phalanx who are seeking the life-blood of the old Southerner, and like a silent moth, working upon his decay. There is a deep significance in the answer so frequently given in Charleston to the interrogatory, “Who lives in that splendid dwelling-it seems to have been the mansion of a prince, but is somewhat decayed?”
“Oh! bless me, yes! It was once the mansion of the So-and-sos, one of the first families, but they're very poor now. Mr. What-you-may-call-em owns it now-they say he didn't get it honestly. He kept a little grog-shop on the Bay, or sold bacon and whisky on the Bay, and made awful charges against poor So-and-so, and after a long trial in Chancery he got his house. He's a big fellow; now, I tell you, and is going to fit the house up for himself!”
Dunn told Manuel to be seated, that there was no occasion for hurrying; it would be all right if he got to the sheriffs office at nine o'clock; and then commenced descanting upon the fine time he would have at the jail. “There's a right good lot of comrades there, me boy; ye'll have fiddling and dancing, plenty of gals, and a jolly time; and ye a'n't a criminal, ye know, so it won't be any thing at all, only keep up a stiff under-lip. Come, let us take another drink; I feel mighty husky this morning!” said he.
Just at this time Dusenberry re-entered, puffing and blowing as if he had been engaged in a foot-race. “Another bird for old Grimshaw, at Commercial Wharf! I know'd she had one aboard, 'cause I seed him from the wharf,” said he, in perfect ecstasy, pulling out a pencil and making a note in a little book.
“Don't be a child,” said Dunn. “Come, we have just proposed another drink; you join of course; ye niver says no,—eh, Duse?” They stepped to the counter, and Dunn, again, pointing his finger upon his nose at the Dutchman, who stood with his hands spread upon the counter, called for gin and bitters, Stoughton light. Turning to Manuel, who was sitting upon a bench with his head reclined upon his hand, apparently in deep meditation, he took him by the collar in a rude manner, and dragging him to the counter, said, “Come, by the pipers, rouse up your spirits, and don't be sulking, my old Portugee; take another O-be-joyful, and it'll put ye all right, and ye'll dance a hornpipe like a jim-crack.”
“Excuse me, sir; I think I have taken enough; do, please, either take me back to my vessel, or where you are going to. This is no place for me!” said Manuel.
“Sure, what signifies; don't be talking your botheration here; a nigger musn't sauce a white man. Come, there's no use backing out; you must take a glass of Swizer's lager beer,” said Dunn.