“Oh! poh! there you're again: you must live in Charleston a year or two, but you'll have to be careful at first that you don't fall in love with some of our bright gals, and think they're white, before you know it. It doesn't matter seven coppers who they're got by, there's no distinction among niggers in Charleston. I'll put you through some of the bright houses when we get up, and show you some scions of our aristocracy, that are the very worst cases. It's a fact, Cap, these little shoots of the aristocracy invariably make bad niggers. If a fellow wants a real prime, likely nigger wench, he must get the pure African blood. As they say themselves, 'Wherever Buckra-man bin, make bad nigger.'” “Well, Pilot, I think we've had enough about mixed niggers for the present. Tell me! do you really think they'll give me trouble with my steward? He certainly is not a black man, and a better fellow never lived,” inquired the Captain earnestly. “Nothing else, Cap,” said the pilot. “It's a hard law, I tell you, and if our merchants and business men had a say in it, 'twouldn't last long; ye can't pass him off for a white man nohow, for the thing's 'contrary to law,' and pays so well that them contemptible land-sharks of officers make all the fuss about it, and never let one pass. Just take the infernal fees off, and nobody'd trouble themselves about the stewards. It all goes into old Grimshaw's pocket, and he'd skin a bolt-rope for the grease, and sell the steward if he could get a chance. He has sold a much nearer relation. I'm down upon the law, you'll see, Cap, for I know it plays the dickens with our business, and is a curse to the commerce of the port. Folks what a'n't acquainted with shipping troubles, and a shipowner's interests, think such things are very small affairs. But it's the name that affects us, and when an owner stands at every item in the disbursements, and a heavy bill for keeping his steward, and another for filling his place, or boarding-house accommodations, and then be deprived of his services, he makes a wry face, and either begins to think about another port, or making the rate of freight in proportion to the annoyance. It has an effect that we feel, but don't say much about. I'm a secessionist, but I don't believe in running mad after politics, and letting our commercial interests suffer.” “But what if I prove my steward a'n't a colored man?” said the Captain; “they surely won't give me any trouble then. It would pain my feelings very much to see Manuel locked up in a cell for no crime; and then to be deprived of his services, is more than I can stand. If I'd known it before, I'd suffered the torments of thirst, and put for a port farther north.”