Manuel Pereira; Or, The Sovereign Rule of South CarolinaAdams, F. Colburn (Francis Colburn)
General
Manuel Pereira; Or, The Sovereign Rule of South Carolina
Adams, F. Colburn (Francis Colburn)
African Americans -- Fiction; Biographical fiction; Pereira, Manuel -- Fiction; South Carolina -- Fiction
The consul did his duty, but effected nothing; and such was the
opposition manifested by the officials who were interested in the spoils
of law, and politicians who could not see any thing important beyond
secession, that there was no prospect of it. And, as the last resort,
he appealed to the Judiciary through the “habeas corpus,” the result of
which we shall show in a subsequent chapter.
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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account