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 negro confined with Tommy presented a wretched picture when brought
into the light room among the other prisoners. His head was so swollen
that no trace of feature was left in his face. Cuts and gashes were
marked with plaster all over his neck and face; his head tied up with
an old red handkerchief; his eyes, what could be seen of them, more like
balls of blood than organs of sight; while the whiskey and water with
which his head had been washed, had mixed with the blood upon his
clothes, and only served to make its appearance more disgusting.
Altogether, a more pitiful object never was presented to human sight.
Some minutes before the clock struck nine, an intelligent-looking
gentleman, very well dressed, and portly in his appearance, entered
the room. He was evidently kindly disposed, but one of those men whose
feelings prompt them to get through business with despatch, rather
than inquire into the circumstances of aggravated cases. He held a
consultation with the officer for some minutes with reference to the
prisoners. After which he mounted a little tribune, and addressing a
few words to the white prisoners, (a person who acted the part of clerk
announced court by rapping upon a desk with a little mallet,) inquired
whether the officers had notified the owners of the negroes. Being
informed that they had, he proceeded with the negroes first. One, by
some good fortune, was taken away by his master, who paid the usual
fee to swell the city treasury; another was sentenced to receive twenty
paddles on the frame at the workhouse; and the third, the man we have
described, being brought forward, weak with the loss of blood, leaned
his hand upon the back of a chair. “Stand up straight!” said the
officer, in a commanding tone.
“Now, my boy, this is twice you have been before this court. Your master
has left you to the mercy of the law, and given strict orders to the
police in the event that you were caught a third time. Your crime is
worse now, for you were caught in company with that white boy-probably
on some errand of villany, prowling about the streets after drum-beat.
I shall, in consideration of the facts here stated by the police, whose
evidence I am bound to recognise, sentence you to nineteen paddles on
the frame, and to be committed to jail, in accordance with your master's
orders, there to await his further directions.
“Arraign the white prisoners according to the roll, Mr.--. Have you sent
a message to the Captain about that boy?” inquired the mayor.
“No, yer honor; but I will send at once,” said the officer, stepping
into the passage and calling an attendant.
The little fellow was arraigned first. He stood up before the mayor
while the ruffianly policeman who arrested him preferred the charges
and swore to them, adding as much to give coloring as possible. “Now, my
man, let me hear what you have got to say for yourself. I have sent for
your captain,” said the mayor, looking as if he really felt pity for the
little fellow.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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