Manuel Pereira Or The Sovereign Rule of South Carolina Part 18

George stood upon the capsill of the wharf, with mortification pictured in his countenance. "Well, captain, you needn't make so much noise about it; your conduct is decidedly ungentlemanly. If you don't wish to sail in father's employ, leave like a gentleman," said George, pulling up the corners of his s.h.i.+rt-collar.

It was the great craft that George had distended upon, and the veritable captain of the right stripe, who promised to toe the mark according to secession principles, but made no stipulations for the n.i.g.g.e.r feed that was the cause of the excitement. The captain, a Baltimore coaster, and accustomed to good feed in his vessels at home, had been induced by a large representations to take charge of the craft and run her in the Pedee trade, bringing rice to Charleston. On being told the craft was all ready for sea, he repaired on board, and, to his chagrin, found two black men for a crew, and a most ungainly old wench, seven shades blacker than Egyptian darkness, for a cook. This was imposition enough to arouse his feelings, for but one of the men knew any thing about a vessel; but on examining the stores, the reader may judge of his feelings, if he have any idea of supplying a vessel in a Northern port, when we tell him that all and singular the stores consisted of a shoulder of rusty Western bacon, a half-bushel of rice, and a jug of mola.s.ses; and this was to proceed the distance of a hundred miles, But to add to the ridiculous farce of that South Carolina notion, when he remonstrated with them, he was very indifferently told that it was what they always provided for their work-people.

"Take your' little jebacca-boat and go to thunder with her," said the captain, commencing to pick up his duds.

"Why, captain, I lent you my gun, and we always expect our captains to make fresh provision of game as you run up the river," said George.

"Fresh provisions, the devil!" said the captain. "I've enough to do to mind my duty, without hunting my living as I pursue my voyage, like a hungry dog. We don't do business on your n.i.g.g.e.r-allowance system in Maryland." And here we leave him, getting one of the negroes to carry his things back to his boarding-house.

A few days after the occurrence we have narrated above little Tommy, somewhat recovered from his cold, s.h.i.+pped on board a little centre-board schooner, called the Three Sisters, bound to the Edisto River for a cargo of rice. The captain, a little, stubby man, rather good looking, and well dressed, was making his maiden voyage as captain of a South Carolina craft. He was "South Carolina born," but, like many others of his kind, had been forced to seek his advancement in a distant State, through the influence of those formidable opinions which exiles the genius of the poor in South Carolina. For ten years he had sailed out of the port of Boston, had held the position of mate on two Indian voyages under the well-known Captain Nott, and had sailed with Captain Albert Brown, and received his recommendation, yet this was not enough to qualify him for the nautical ideas of a pompous South Carolinian.

Tommy got his baggage on board, and before leaving, made another attempt at the jail to see his friend Manuel. He presented himself to the jailer, and told him how much he wanted to see his old friend before he left. The jailer's orders were imperative. He was told if he came next week he would see him; that he would then be released, and allowed to occupy the cell on the second floor with the other stewards. Recognising one of the stewards that had joined with them when they enjoyed their social feelings around the festive barrel, he walked into the piazza to meet him and bid him good-by. While he stood shaking hands with him, the poor negro.

The name of this poor fellow was George Fairchild. After being sent to the workhouse to receive twenty blows with the paddle when he was scarcely able to stand, he was taken down from the frame and supported to the jail, where he remained several weeks, fed at a cost of eighteen cents a day. His crime was "going for whiskey at night," and the third offence; but there were a variety of pleadings in his favor. His master worked his negroes to the very last tension of their strength, and exposed their appet.i.tes to all sorts of temptation, especially those who worked in the night-gang. His master flogged him once, while he was in the jail, himself, giving him about forty stripes with a raw hide on the bare back: not satisfying his feelings with this, he concluded to send him to New Orleans. He had an affectionate wife and child, who were forbidden to see him. His master ordered that he should be sent to the workhouse and receive thirty-nine paddles before leaving, and on the morning he was to be s.h.i.+pped, his distressed wife, hearing the sad news, came to the jail; but notwithstanding the entreaties of several debtors, the jailer could not allow her to come in, but granted, as a favor, that she should speak with him through the grated door. The cries and lamentations of that poor woman, as she stood upon the outside, holding her bond-offspring in her arms, taking a last sorrowing farewell of him who was so dearly cherished and beloved, would have melted a heart of stone. She could not embrace him, but waited until he was led out to torture, when she threw her arms around him, and was dragged away by a ruffian's hand.

Poor George Fairchild! We heard him moaning under the acute pain of the paddle, and saw him thrust into a cart like a dog, to be s.h.i.+pped as a bale of merchandise for a distant port, who had suffered with him in the guard-house came up and saluted him with a friendly recognition. Some two weeks had pa.s.sed since the occurrence, and yet his head presented the effects of bruising, and was bandaged with a cloth. "Good young ma.s.sa, do give me a' fo' pence, for Is'e mose starve," he said in a suppliant tone. Tommy put his hand into his pocket, and drawing out a quarter, pa.s.sed it to the poor fellow, and received his thanks. Leaving a message for Manuel that he would be sure to call and see him when he returned, he pa.s.sed from the house of misery and proceeded to his vessel.

The captain of the schooner had been engaged by parties in Charleston, who simply acted as agents for the owners. He had been moved to return to Charleston by those feelings which are so inherent in our nature, inspiring a feeling for the place of its nativity, and recalling the early a.s.sociations of childhood. Each longing fancy pointed back again, and back he came, to further fortune on his native soil. His crew, with the exception of Tommy, consisted of three good, active negroes, one of whom acted as pilot on the Edisto River. Accustomed to the provisioning of Boston s.h.i.+ps, he had paid no attention to his supplies; for, in fact, he only took charge of the little craft as an accommodation to the agents, and with the promise of a large vessel as soon as he returned; and sailing with a fine stiff breeze, he was far outside the light when the doctor announced dinner. "What have you got that's good, old chap?"

said he to the cook.

"Fust stripe, Ma.s.sa Cap'en. A right good chance o' h.o.m.ony and bacon fry," returned the negro.

"h.o.m.ony and what? Nothing else but that?"

"Why, ma.s.sa! gracious, dat what Ma.s.sa Whaley give all he cap'en, an' he tink 'em fust-rate," said the negro.

As they were the only whites on board, the captain took little Tommy into the cabin with him to sit at the same table; but there was too much truth in the negro's statement, and instead of sitting down to one of those nice dinners which are spread in Boston s.h.i.+ps, both great and small, there, on a little piece of pine board, swung with a preventer, was a plate of black h.o.m.ony covered with a few pieces of fried pork, so rank and oily as to be really repulsive to a common stomach. Beside it was an earthen mug, containing about a pint of mola.s.ses, which was bedaubed on the outside to show its quality. The captain looked at it for a minute, and then taking up the iron spoon which stood in it, and letting one or two spoonfuls drop back, said, "Old daddie, where are all your stores? Fetch them out here."

"Gih, ma.s.sa! here 'em is; 'e's jus' as Ma.s.sa Stoney give 'em," said the negro, drawing forth a piece of rusty and tainted bacon, weighing about fifteen pounds, and, in spots, perfectly alive with motion; about a half-bushel of corn-grits; and a small keg of mola.s.ses, with a piece of leather attached to the bung.

"Is that all?" inquired the captain peremptorily.

"Yes, ma.s.sa, he all w'at 'em got now, but git more at Ma.s.sa Whaley plantation win 'em git da."

"Throw it overboard, such stinking stuff; it'll breed pestilence on board," said the captain to the negro, (who stood holding the spoiled bacon in his hand, with the destructive macalia dropping on the floor,) at the same time applying his foot to the table, and making wreck of hog, h.o.m.ony, mola.s.ses, and plates.

"Gih-e-wh-ew! Ma.s.sa, I trow 'im o'board, Ma.s.sa Whaley scratch 'em back, sartin. He tink 'em fust-rate. Plantation n.i.g.g.e.r on'y gits bacon twice week, Ma.s.sa Cap'en," said he, picking up the wreck and carrying it upon deck, where it was devoured with great gus...o...b.. the negroes, who fully appreciated the happy G.o.d-send.

The captain had provided a little private store of crackers, cheese, segars, and a bottle of brandy, and turning to his trunk, he opened it and drew them out one by one, pa.s.sing the crackers and cheese to Tommy, and imbibing a little of the deacon himself, thus satisfying the cravings of nature. Night came on; they were crossing the bar and approaching the outlet of the Edisto, which was broad in sight; but there was neither coffee nor tea on board, and no prospect of supper-nothing but a resort to the crackers and cheese remained, the stock of which had already diminished so fast, that what was left was treasured among the things too choice to be eaten without limitation.

They reached the entrance, and after ascending a few miles, came to anchor under a jut of wood that formed a bend in the river. The baying of dogs during the night intimated the vicinity of a settlement near, and in the morning the captain sent one of the negroes on sh.o.r.e for a bottle of milk. "Ma.s.sa, dat man what live yonder ha'n't much no-how, alwa's makes 'em pay seven-pence," said the negro. Sure enough it was true; notwithstanding he was a planter of some property, he made the smallest things turn to profit, and would charge vessels going up the river twelve and a half cents per bottle for milk.

The captain had spent a restless night, and found himself blotched with innumerable chinch-bites; and on examining the berths and lockers, he found them swarming in piles. Calling one of the black men, he commenced overhauling them, and drew out a perfect storehouse of rubbish, which must have been deposited there, without molestation, from the day the vessel was launched up to the present time, as varied in its kinds as the stock of a Jew-shop, and rotten with age. About nine o'clock they got under weigh again, and proceeding about twenty miles with a fair wind and tide, they came to another point in the river, on which a concourse of men had a.s.sembled, armed to the teeth with guns, rifles, and knives. As he pa.s.sed up, they were holding parley with a man and boy in a canoe a few rods from the sh.o.r.e. At every few minutes they would point their rifles at him, and with threatening gestures, swear vengeance against him if he attempted to land. The captain, being excited by the precarious situation of the man and his boy, and anxious to ascertain the particulars, let go his anchor and "came to" a few lengths above.

Scarcely had his anchor brought up than he was hailed from the sh.o.r.e by a rough-looking man, who appeared to be chief in the manouvre, and who proved to be no less a personage than a Mr. S--k, a wealthy planter.

"Don't take that man on board of your vessel, at the peril of your life, captain. He's an abolitionist," said he, accompanying his imperative command with a very Southern rotation of oaths.

The man paddled his canoe on the outside of the vessel, and begged the captain "for G.o.d's sake to take him on board and protect him; that an excitement had been gotten up against him very unjustly, and he would explain the circ.u.mstances if he would allow him to come on board."

"Come on board," said the captain. "Let you be abolitionist or what you will, humanity will not let me see you driven out to sea in that manner; you would be swamped before you crossed the bar."

He came on board, trembling and wet, the little boy handing up a couple of carpet-bags, and following him. No sooner had he done so, than three or four b.a.l.l.s whizzed past the captain's head, causing him to retreat to the cabin. A few minutes intervened, and he returned to the deck.

"Lower your boat and come on sh.o.r.e immediately," they cried out.

The captain, not at all daunted, lowered his boat and went on sh.o.r.e.

"Now, gentlemen, what do you want with me?" said he, when S--k stepped forward, and the following dialogue ensued:--

"Who owns that vessel, and what right have you to harbor a d--d abolitionist?"

"I don't know who owns the vessel; I know that I sail her, and the laws of G.o.d and man demand that I shall not pa.s.s a man in distress, especially upon the water. He protests that he is not, and never was an abolitionist; offers to prove it if you will hear him, and only asks that you allow him to take away his property," rejoined the captain.

"What! then you are an abolitionist yourself?"

"No, sir. I'm a Southern-born man, raised in Charleston, where my father was raised before me."

"So much, so good; but just turn that d--d scoundrel ash.o.r.e as quick as seventy, or we'll tie your vessel up and report you to the Executive Committee, and stop your getting on more freight on the Edisto."

"That I shall not do. You should have patience to investigate these things, and not allow your feelings to become so excited. If I turn him and his son adrift, I'm answerable for their lives if any accident should occur to them," rejoined the captain.

"Are you a secessionist, captain, or what are your political principles?

You seem determined to protect abolitionists. That scoundrel has been a.s.sociating with a n.i.g.g.e.r, and eating at his house ever since he has been here."

"Yes, yes, and we'll be d--d if he isn't an abolitionist," joined in a dozen voices, "for he dined at Bill Webster's last Sunday on a wild-turkey. n.o.body but an infernal abolitionist would dine with a n.i.g.g.e.r."

"As for politics, I never had much to do with them, and care as little about secession as I do about theology; but I like to see men act reasonably. If you want any thing more of me, you will find me at Colonel Whaley's plantation to-morrow." Thus saying, he stepped into his boat and returned on board of his vessel. Just as he was getting under-weigh again, whiz! whiz! whiz! came three shots, one in quick succession after the other, the last taking effect and piercing the crown of his hat, at which they retired out of sight. Fearing a return, he worked his vessel about two miles farther up and came to anchor on the other side of the channel, where he waited the return of the tide, and had an opportunity to put his affrighted pa.s.sengers on board a schooner that was pa.s.sing down, bound to Charleston.

The secret of such an outrage is told in a few words. The man was a timber-getter from the vicinity of New Bedford, Ma.s.sachusetts, who, with his son, a lad about sixteen years of age, had spent several winters in the vicinity of the Edisto, getting live-oak, what he considered a laudable enterprise. He purchased the timber on the stump of the inhabitants, at a price which left him very little profit, and had also been charged an exorbitant price for every thing he got, whether labor or provisions; and so far had that feeling of South Carolina's self-sufficiency been carried out against him in all its cold repulsiveness, that he found much more honesty and true hospitality under the roof of a poor colored man. This so enraged some of the planters, that they proclaimed against him, and that mad-dog cry of abolitionist was raised against him. His horse and buggy, books and papers were packed up and sent to Charleston-not, however, without some of the most important of the latter being lost. His business was destroyed, and he and his child taken by force, put into a little canoe with one or two carpet-bags, and sent adrift. In this manner they had followed him two miles down the river, he begging to be allowed the privilege of settling his business and leave respectably-they threatening to shoot him if he attempted to near the sh.o.r.e, or was caught in the vicinity. This was his position when the captain found him. He proceeded to Charleston, and laid his case before James L.

Petigru, Esq., United States District Attorney, and, upon his advice, returned to the scene of "war on the banks of the Edisto," to arrange his business; but no sooner had he made his appearance than he was thrown into prison, and there remained when we last heard of him.

This is one of the many cases which afford matter for exciting comment for the editors of the Charleston Mercury and the Courier, and which reflect no honor on a people who thus set law and order at defiance.

CHAPTER XXVI. A SINGULAR RECEPTION.

IT was about ten o'clock on the night of the fifteenth of April when the schooner "Three Sisters" lay anch.o.r.ed close alongside of a dark jungle of cl.u.s.tering brakes that hung their luxuriant foliage upon the bosom of the stream. The captain sat upon a little box near the quarter, apparently contemplating the scene, for there was a fairy-like beauty in its dark windings, mellowed by the shadowing foliage that skirted its borders in mournful grandeur, while stars twinkled on the sombre surface.

The tide had just turned, and little Tommy, who had rolled himself up in a blanket and laid down close to the captain, suddenly arose. "Captain, did you hear that?" said he.

"Hark! there it is again," said the captain. "Go and call the men,--we must get under weigh."

It was a rustling noise among the brakes; and when little Tommy went forward to call the men, two b.a.l.l.s came whistling over the quarter, and then a loud rustling noise indicated that persons were retreating. The captain retired to the cabin and took Tommy with him, giving orders to the negro pilot to stand to the deck, get her anchor up, and let her drift up stream with the tide, determined that if they shot any person, it should be the negroes, for whose value they would be held answerable.

Thus she drifted up the stream, and the next morning was at the creek at Colonel Whaley's plantation.

A number of ragged negroes came down to the bank in high glee at the arrival, and making sundry inquiries about corn and bacon. One old patriarchal subject cried out to the pilot, "Ah, Cesar, I 'now'd ye wah c.u.min'. Ma.s.sa, an' young Ma.s.sa Aleck, bin promis' bacon mor' den week, gess he c.u.m' now."