In a South Carolina mansion, Mrs. Vincent and her daughter Lucy lived alone except for a few faithful ex-slaves. A cabin on the edge of the plantation was rented to Wash, a negro member of the Loyal League, whose organiser was Captain Johnson, commander of a small garrison in a nearby town. The captain was fond of imposing fines upon whites against whom negroes entered complaint. There seemed nice adjustment between fines and defendants' available cash. One day Wash, pushing past Lucy's maid into the Vincent parlor, said to Lucy's mother, "I'se come to cote Miss Lucy." "Leave the house!" "I ain' gwi leave no such a thing! I'se gwi marry Lucy an' live here wid you." Lucy appeared. "I'se come to ax you to have me. I'se de ve'y man fuh you to hitch up wid. Dis here place b'long to me. You b'long to me." She whipped out a pistol and covered him. "Run! Run for your life!" He ran. When he was out of pistol-shot, he turned and yelled: "You d----d white she-cat! I'll make you know!" She caught up a musket and fired. Balls whistled past his head; he renewed his flight. Next morning, as the ladies, pale and miserable, sat at breakfast, a squad of soldiers filed in, took seats, helped themselves and ordered the butler around. The ladies rose and were arrested. A wagon was at the door. "Please, marsters," said black Jerry humbly, "lemme hitch up de kerridge an' kyar Mistiss an' Miss Lucy in it. 'Taint fitten fuh 'em to ride in a waggin--an' wid strange mens." His request was refused. The ladies were arraigned before Captain Johnson on charge that they had used insulting language to Mr. Washington Singleton Pettigru; and that Lucy, "in defiance of law and morals and actuated by the devil," had "without provocation" fired on him with intent to kill. A fine of $1,000 or six months in jail was imposed. "I have not so much money!" cried Mrs. Vincent. "Jail may change your mind," said the captain. They were committed to a loathsome cell, their determination alone preventing separation.