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Manuel Pereira; or, The Sovereign Rule of South Carolina, a novel by F. Colburn Adams |
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Chapter 17. Little George, The Captain, And Mr. Grimshaw |
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_ CHAPTER XVII. LITTLE GEORGE, THE CAPTAIN, AND MR. GRIMSHAW THE consul had returned to his office rather discomfited at not being able to relieve Manuel, yet satisfied that he had placed matters in their proper light before the public. The Captain reported and left his manifest at the custom-house, after entering his protest and making the necessary arrangements for survey, &c. &c. And Colonel S--became so well satisfied of the affectation of law protectors, and that his services in behalf of humanity were like straws contending against a foaming current, that, acknowledging his regrets to the Captain, he preferred to make up in attention what he could not do for Manuel through the law. Little George paid his respects to the Janson between ten and eleven o'clock, duly dressed. "Mr. Mate, where's your skipper?" he inquired, with an air of consequence that put an extra pucker on his little twisting mouth. "Gone to jail, or to see Doctor Jones, I expect, not giving ye an ill answer," replied the old mate, gruffly. "Perhaps you don't know who I am, sir. Your answer's not polite. You must remember, sir, you're in South Carolina, the sunny city of the South," said the little secessionist. "I al'a's make my answer to suit myself. I study hard work and honesty, but never was known to carry a grammar in my pocket. But, my taut friend, I should know'd I was in South Carolina if you hadn't said a word about it, for no other nation under the sky would a dragged a poor cast-away sailor to prison because he had the misfortune to have a tawny hide. It's a ten-to-one, my hearty, if you don't find the skipper in jail, and all the rest of us, before we leave. I'm lookin' now to see some body-grabber coming down with a pair of handcuffs," continued the mate. "What! do you mean to insult me again, Mr. Mate? Explain yourself! I'm not accustomed to this ironical talk!" "Well, it's something like your laws. They dragged our steward off to jail this morning, without judge or jury, and with about as much ceremony as a Smithfield policeman would a pickpocket." "What! you don't say. Well, I was afraid of that. Our officers are mighty quick, but I'd hoped differently. But, sir, give my compliments to the Captain. Tell him I'll make the matter all right; my influence, sir, and my father's--he is one of the first men in the city--tells mightily here. I have promised my services to the Captain, and I'll see him through. Just pledging my word to Grimshaw will be enough to satisfy the judicial requisites of the law," said George, switching his little cane on his trowsers. "My good fellow," said the mate, "if you can get our steward out a limbo, you'll be doing us all a good turn, and we'll remember you as long as we pull a brace." "You may reckon on me, Mister Mate; and if I a'n't down before six o'clock, my father will certainly take the matter in hand; and he and Mazyck belong to the secession party, and control things just as they please at Columbia." So saying, George bid the old mate good morning, and bent his course for the head of the wharf. "There," said the old mate, "it's just what I thought all along; I knew my presentiment would come true. I'll wager a crown they treat Manuel like a dog in that old prison, and don't get him out until he is mildewed; or perhaps they'll sell him for a slave a'cos he's got curly black hair and a yellow skin. Now I'm a hardy sailor, but I've sailed around the world about three times, and know something of nature. Now ye may note it as clear as the north star, prisons in slave countries a'n't fit for dogs. They may tell about their fine, fat, slick, saucy niggers, but a slave's a slave--his master's property, a piece of merchandise, his chattel, or his football-thankful for what his master may please to give him, and inured to suffer the want of what he withholds. Yes, he must have his thinking stopped by law, and his back lashed at his master's will, if he don't toe the mark in work. Men's habits and associations form their feelings and character, and it's just so with them fellers; they've become so accustomed to looking upon a nigger as a mere tool of labor--lordin' it over him, starving him, and lashing him-that they associate the exercise of the same feelings and actions with every thing connected with labor, without paying any respect to a poor white man's feelings," continued the mate, addressing himself to his second, as they sat upon the companion, waiting for the Captain to come on board and give further orders. Never were words spoken with more truth. The negro is reduced to the lowest and worst restrictions, even by those who are considered wealthy planters and good masters. We say nothing of those whose abuse of their negroes by starvation and punishment forms the theme of complaint among slaveholders themselves. His food is not only the coarsest that can, be procured, but inadequate to support the system for the amount of labor required. Recourse to other means becomes necessary. This is supplied by giving the slave his task, which, so far as our observation extends, is quite sufficient for any common, laborer's day's-work. This done, his master is served; and as an act of kindness, (which Sambo is taught to appreciate as such,) he is allowed to work on his own little cultivated patch to raise a few things, which mass'r (in many cases) very condescendingly sells in the market, and returns those little comforts, which are so much appreciated by slaves on a plantation-tea, molasses, coffee, and tobacco-and now and then a little wet of whiskey. This is the allowance of a good man doing a good week's work, and getting two pounds of bacon and a peck of corn as his compensation. But, in grateful consideration, his good master allows him to work nights and Sundays to maintain himself. In this way was "Bob's bale of cotton" raised, which that anxious child of popular favor, the editor of the "Savannah Morning News," so struggled to herald to the world as something magnificent on the part of the Southern slave-masters. At best, it was but a speck. If the many extra hours of toil that poor Bob had spent, and the hours of night that he had watched and nursed his plants, were taken into account, there would be a dark picture connected with "Bob's bale of cotton," which the editor forgot to disclose. Every form of labor becomes so associated with servitude, that we may excuse the Southerner for those feelings which condemn those devoted to mechanical pursuits as beneath his caste and dignity. Arrogance and idleness foster extravagance, while his pride induces him to keep up a style of life which his means are inadequate to support. This induces him to subsist his slaves on the coarsest fare, and becoming hampered, embarrassed, and fretted in his fast-decaying circumstances, his slaves, one by one, suffer the penalty of his extravagance, and finally he himself is reduced to such a condition that he is unable to do justice to himself or his children any longer; his slaves are dragged from him, sold to the terrors of a distant sugar-plantation, and he turned out of doors a miserable man. We see this result every day in South Carolina; we hear the comments in the broadways and public places, while the attorney and bailiff's offices and notices tell the sad tale of poverty's wasting struggle. George, in passing from the wharf into the bay, met the Captain, who was shaping his course for the brig. He immediately ran up to him, and shook his hands with an appearance of friendship. "Captain, I'm right sorry to hear about your nigger. I was not prepared for such a decision on the part of Mr. Grimshaw, but I'm determined to have him out," said he. "Well!" said the Captain, "I'm sorry to say, I find things very different from what I anticipated. My steward is imprisoned, for nothing, except that he is a Portuguese, and everybody insists that he's a nigger. Everybody talks very fine, yet nobody can do any thing; and every thing is left to the will of one man." "Why, Captain, we've the best system in the world for doing business; you'd appreciate it after you understood it! Just come with me, and let me introduce you to my father. If he don't put you right, I'll stand convicted," said little George. Accepting the invitation, they walked back to the "old man's" counting-room. George had given the Captain such an extended account of his father's business and estates, that the latter had made up his mind to be introduced to an "India Palace' counting-room. Judge of his surprise, then, when George led the way into an old, dirty-looking counting-room, very small and dingy, containing two dilapidated high desks, standing against the wall. They were made of pitch pine, painted and grained, but so scarred and whittled as to have the appearance of long use and abuse. In one corner was an old-fashioned low desk, provided with an ink-stand, sundry pieces of blotting-paper, the pigeon-holes filled with loose invoices, letters, and bills of lading, very promiscuously huddled together; while hanging suspended on a large nail, driven in the side, and exposed to view, was an enormous dust-brush. A venerable-looking subject of some foreign country stood writing at one desk, a little boy at the other, and George's veritable "old man" at the low desk. Here and there around the floor were baskets and papers containing samples of sea-island and upland cotton. George introduced the Captain to his father with the suavity of a courtier. He was a grave-looking man, well dressed, and spoke in a tone that at once enlisted respect. Unlike George, he was a tall, well-formed man, with bland, yet marked features, and very gray hair. He received the Captain in a cold, yet dignified manner-inquired about his voyage, and who he had consigned to, and what steps he had taken to proceed with his business,--all of which the Captain answered according to the circumstances. "What! then you have consigned already, have you?" said little George, with surprise. "Oh yes," returned the Captain, "I have left my business in the hands of the consul, and shall follow his directions. It's according to my sailing orders. But there's so much difficulty, I shouldn't wonder if I had to leave the port, yet!" "Not so, Captain; I'll take care of that!" said George, giving his father a statement of the Captain's trouble about Manuel's imprisonment, and begging that he would bestow his influence in behalf of his friend the Captain. Although George coupled his request with a seeming sincerity, it was evident that he felt somewhat disappointed at the consignment. The old gentleman looked very wise upon the subject, lifted his gold-framed spectacles upon his forehead, gratified his olfactory nerves with a pinch of snuff, and then said in a cold, measured tone, "Well, if he's a nigger, I see no alternative,--the circumstances may give a coloring of severity to the law; but my opinion has always been, that the construction of the law was right; and the act being founded upon necessity, I see no reason why we should meddle with its prerogative. I think the interference of the consul unwarrantable, and pressed upon mere technical grounds. These stories about the bad state of our jail, and the sufferings of criminals confined in it, arise, I must think, from the reports of bad prisoners. I have never been in it. Our people are opposed to vice, and seldom visit such a place; but the sheriff tells me it is comfortable enough for anybody. If this be so, and I have no reason to doubt his word, we can exercise our sympathy and kindness for his shipwrecked circumstances, and make him as comfortable there as we could anywhere else. There are many different opinions, I admit, touching the effect of this law; but I'm among those who support stringent measures for better protection. His color can form no excuse, Captain, so long as there is symptoms of the negro about him. We might open a wide field for metaphysical investigation, if we admitted exceptions upon grades of complexion; for many of our own slaves are as white ar the brightest woman. Consequently, when we shut the gates entirely, we save ourselves boundless perplexity. Nor would it be safe to grant an issue upon the score of intelligence, for experience has taught us that the most intelligent 'bright fellows' are the worst scamps in creating discontent among the slaves. I only speak of these things, Captain, in a general sense. Your man may be very good, noble, generous, and intelligent; and, more than all, not inclined to meddle with our peculiar institution,--but it would be a false principle to make him an exception, setting an example that would be entirely incompatible with our greatest interests. So far as my word will affect the sheriff, and enlist his better feelings in making him comfortable, I will use it," said the 'old man,' again adjusting his specs. Little George seemed dumbfounded with mortification, and the Captain felt as though he would give a guinea to be on board his brig. It was no use for him to enter into the extenuating circumstance of his voyage, or the character of the man, Manuel. The same cold opinions about the law, and the faith and importance of South Carolina and her peculiar institutions, met his ears wherever he went. The Captain arose, took his hat, and bidding the old gentleman good morning, again left for his brig. "Don't be worried about it-I'll do what I can for you," said the old man, as the Captain was leaving. George followed him into the street, and made a great many apologies for his father's opinions and seeming indifference, promising to do himself what his father did not seem inclined to undertake. The Captain saw no more of him during his stay in Charleston, and if his influence was exerted in Manuel's behalf, he did not feel its benefits. Business had so occupied the Captain's attention during the day, that he had no time to visit Manuel at the jail; and when he returned to the vessel, a message awaited him from the British consul. One of the seamen had been detailed to fill Manuel's place, who, with his dinner all prepared, reminded the Captain that it was awaiting him. He sat down, took dinner, and left to answer the consul's call. Arriving at the office, he found the consul had left for his hotel, and would not return until four o'clock. As he passed the post-office, a knot of men stood in front of it, apparantly in anxious discussion. Feeling that their conversation might be interesting to him, or have some connection with his case, he walked slowly back, and as he approached them, observed that the conversation had become more excited. The principals were Mr. Grimshaw, and a factor on the bay, deeply interested in shipping. "A man acting in your capacity," said the factor, "should never make use of such expressions-never give encouragement to mob law. It's not only disgraceful to any city, but ruinous to its interests. Officials never should set or encourage the example. Want of order is already in the ascendant, and if the populace is to be led on to riot by the officials, what check have we? God save us from the direful effects!" "Well, perhaps I went too far," said Mr. Grimshaw, "for I think as much of the name of our fair city as you do. But we ought to teach him that he can't pursue this open, bold, and daring course, endangering our institutions, because he's consul for Great Britain. I would, at all events, treat him as we did the Yankee HOAR from Massachusetts, and let the invitation be given outside of official character, to save the name; then, if he did not move off, I'd go for serving him as they did the Spanish consul, in New Orleans. These English niggers and Yankee niggers are fast destroying the peace of Charleston." "You would, would you?" said another. "Then you would incite the fury of an ungovernable mob to endanger the man's life for carrying out the instructions of his government." "That don't begin to be all that he does, for he's meddling with every thing, and continually making remarks about our society," said Grimshaw, evidently intending to create ill feeling against the consul, and to make the matter as bad as possible. "Now, Mr. Grimshaw," said the factor, "you know your jail is not fit to put any kind of human beings into, much less respectable men. It's an old Revolutionary concern, tumbling down with decay, swarming with insects and vermin; the rooms are damp and unhealthy, and without means to ventilate them; the mildew and horrible stench is enough to strike disease into the strongest constitution; and you aggravate men's appetites with food that's both insufficient and unwholesome, I know, because I visited a friend who was put in there on 'mesne process.'" "There is little confidence to be placed in the stories of prisoners; they all think they must be treated like princes, instead of considering that they are put there for cause, and that a jail was intended for punishment," interrupted Grimshaw, anxious to change the subject of conversation, and displaying an habitual coldness to misfortune which never can see the gentleman in a prisoner. "Yes, but you must not measure men by that standard. Circumstances which bring them there are as different as their natures. I've known many good, honest, and respectable, citizens, who once enjoyed affluence in our community, put in there, month after month, and year after year, suffering the persecution of creditors and the effects of bad laws. Now these men would not all complain if there was no cause, and they all loved you, as you state. But tell me, Mr. Grimshaw, would it not be even safer for our institutions to make a restriction confining them to the wharf, which could be easily done, and with but small expense to the city? Niggers on the wharves could have no communication with them, because each is occupied in his business, and ours are too closely watched and driven during working hours. As soon as those hours end, they are bound to leave, and the danger ends. Again, those niggers who work on the wharves are generally good niggers, while, on the other hand, bad niggers are put into jail; and during the hours these stewards are allowed the privilege of the yard, they mix with them without discrimination or restraint. Their feelings, naturally excited by imprisonment, find relief in discoursing upon their wrongs with those of their own color, and making the contamination greater," said the factor, who seemed inclined to view the matter in its proper light. "Oh! what sir? That would never do. You mistake a nigger's feelings entirely. Privileges never create respect with them. Just make a law to leave 'em upon the wharf, and five hundred policemen wouldn't keep 'em from spoiling every nigger in town, just destroying the sovereignty of the law, and yielding a supreme right that we have always contended for. It's 'contrary to law,' and we must carry out the law," replied Grimshaw. "Pshaw! Talk such stuff to me! Just take away the sixteen hundred or two thousand dollars that you make by the law; and you'd curse it for a nuisance. It would become obsolete, and the poor devils of stewards would do what they pleased; you'd never trouble your head about them. Now, Grimshaw, be honest for once; tell us what you would do if circumstances compelled the Captain to leave that nigger boy here?" "Carry out the letter of the law; there's no alternative. But the Captain swears he's a white man, and that would give him an opportunity to prove it." "How is he to prove it, Grimshaw? We take away the power, and then ask him to do what we make impossible. Then, of course, you would carry out the letter of the law and sell him for a slave. * * * Well, I should like to see the issue upon a question of that kind carried out upon an English nigger. It would be more of a curse upon our slave institution than every thing else that could be raised," said the factor. "Gentlemen, you might as well preach abolition at once, and then the public would know what your sentiments were, and how to guard against you. I must bid you good-by." So saying, Mr. Grimshaw twisted his whip, took a large quid of tobacco, and left the company to discuss the question among themselves. _ |
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