Books: Manuel Pereira
F >>
F. C. Adams >> Manuel Pereira
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12 |
13 |
14 |
15 |
16 |
17 |
18 |
19 CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I. THE Unlucky Ship
CHAPTER II. The Steward's Bravery
CHAPTER III. The Second Storm
CHAPTER IV. The Charleston Police
CHAPTER V. Mr. Grimshaw, the Man of the County
CHAPTER VI. The Janson in the Offing
CHAPTER VII. Arrival of the Janson
CHAPTER VIII. A New Dish of Secession
CHAPTER IX. A few Points of the Law
CHAPTER X. The Prospect Darkening
CHAPTER XI. The Sheriff's Office
CHAPTER XII. The Old Jail
CHAPTER XIII. How it is
CHAPTER XIV. Manuel Pereira Committed
CHAPTER XV. The Law's Intricacy
CHAPTER XVI. Plea of Just Consideration and Mistaken Constancy of the Laws
CHAPTER XVII. Little George, the Captain, and Mr. Grimshaw
CHAPTER XVIII. Little Tommy and the Police
CHAPTER XIX. The Next Morning, and the Mayor's Verdict
CHAPTER XX. Emeute among the Stewards
CHAPTER XXI. The Captain's Interview with Mr. Grimshaw
CHAPTER XXII. Copeland's Release and Manuel's close Confinement
CHAPTER XXIII. Imprisonment of John Paul, and John Baptiste Pamerlie
CHAPTER XXIV. The Janson Condemned
CHAPTER XXV. George the Secessionist, and his Father's Ships
CHAPTER XXVI. A Singular Reception
CHAPTER XXVII. The Habeas Corpus
CHAPTER XXVIII. The Captain's Departure and Manuel's Release
CHAPTER XXIX. Manuel's Arrival in New York
CHAPTER XXX. The Scene of Anguish
CONCLUSION
APPENDIX
INTRODUCTION.
OUR generous friends in Georgia and South Carolina will not add among
their assumptions that we know nothing of the South and Southern life. A
residence of several years in those States, a connection with the press,
and associations in public life, gave us opportunities which we did not
lose, and have not lost sight of; and if we dipped deeper into the
vicissitudes of life and law than they gave us credit for at the time,
we trust they will pardon us, on the ground of interest in the welfare
of the South.
Perhaps we should say, to support the true interests of the South, we
should and must abandon many of those errors we so strenuously supported
in years past; and thus we have taken up the subject of our book, based
upon the practical workings of an infamous law, which we witnessed upon
the individual whose name forms a part of the title.
Imprisoning a shipwrecked sailor, and making it a penal offence for a
freeman to come within the limits of a republican State, whether
voluntarily or involuntarily, seems to be considered commonplace,
instead of barbarous in South Carolina. This may be accounted for by the
fact that the power of a minority, created in wrong, requiring barbarous
expedients to preserve itself intact, becomes an habitual sentiment,
which usage makes right.
This subject has been treated with indifference, even by the press,
which has satisfied itself in discussing the abstract right as a
question of law, rather than by disclosing the sufferings of those who
endure the wrong and injustice. When we are called upon to support, and
are made to suffer the penalty of laws founded in domestic fear, and
made subservient to various grades of injustice, it becomes our duty to
localize the wrong, and to point out the odium which attaches to the
State that enacts such laws of oppression.
A "peculiar-institution" absorbs and takes precedence of every thing;
its protection has become a sacred element of legislative and private
action; and fair discussion is looked upon as ominous, and proclaimed as
incendiary. But we speak for those who owe no allegiance to that
delicate institution; citizens to all intents and, purposes
(notwithstanding their dark skins) of the countries to which they
severally belong; peaceable persons, pursuing their avocations, to
provide a respectable maintenance for their families, and worthy of the
same protective rights claimed by the more fortunate citizens of such
countries. In doing this we shall give a practical illustration of the
imprisonment of four individuals in South Carolina, and ask those who
speculate in the abstract science of State sovereignty, to reflect upon
the issue of that lamentable injustice which inflicts punishment upon
persons guiltless of crime. We prefer to be plain, and we know our
Southern friends will not accuse us of misconstruction, for we have
their interests at heart, as well as the cause of humanity, which we
shall strive to promote, in spite of the struggles of modern barbarism,
seeking to perpetuate itself. Fear, the inventor of such pretexts as are
set up, and mantled in Southern modesty, must remodel its code for South
Carolinians, before it can assert a power unknown to law, or trample
upon the obligations of treaty, or enforce nullification of individual
rights.
CHARLESTON, S. C., July 17,1852.
MANUEL PEREIRA.
CHAPTER I.
THE UNLUCKY SHIP.
THE British brig Janson, Thompson, master, laden with sugar,
pimento, &c. &c. left Kingston, Jamaica, in the early part of March,
in the present year, bound for Glasgow. The skipper, who was a
genuine son of the "Land o' Cakes," concluded to take the inside
passage, and run through the gulf. This might have been questioned
by seamen better acquainted with the windward passage; but as every
Scotchman likes to have his own way, the advice of the first
officer--an experienced salt in the West India waters--went to
leeward. On rounding Cape Antoine, it was evident that a strong blow
was approaching. The clouds hung their dark curtains in threatening
blackness; and, as the sharp flashes of lightning inflamed the
gloomy scene, the little bark seemed like a speck upon the bosom of
the sea. It was the first mate's watch on deck. The wind, then
blowing from the W.S.W., began to increase and veer into the
westward; from whence it suddenly chopped into the northward. The
mate paced the quarter wrapt in his fearnought jacket, and at every
turn giving a glance aloft, then looking at the compass, and again
to the man at the wheel, as if he had an instinct of what was
coming.
He was a fearless navigator, yet, like many others who had yielded
to the force of habit, was deeply imbued with that prevalent
superstition so common to sailors, which regards a particular ship
as unlucky. Imagine an old-fashioned boatswain, with north-country
features strongly marked, a weather-beaten face, and a painted
south-wester on his head, and you have the "Mister Mate" of the old
brig Janson.
"Keep her full, my hearty. We must take in our light sails and go on
the other tack soon. If we don't catch it before daylight, I'll miss
my calculation. She's an unlucky old craft as ever I sailed in, and
if the skipper a'n't mighty careful, he'll never get her across.
I've sworn against sailing in her several times, but if I get across
in her this time, I'll bid her good-by; and if the owners don't give
me a new craft, they may get somebody else. We're just as sure to
have bad luck as if we had cats and parsons aboard."
Thus saying, he descended the companion-way, and reported the
appearance of the weather to the skipper, who arose quickly, and,
consulting his barometer, found it had fallen to near the lowest
scale. After inquiring the quarter of the wind, and how she headed,
what sail she was carrying, and the probable distance from the cape,
he gave orders to call all hands to take in the topgallant-sails,
double reef the fore, and single reef the maintop-sails, and stow
the flying-jib--dressed himself, and came on deck. Just as he put
his head above the slide of the companion, and stopped for a minute
with his hands resting upon the sides, a vivid flash of lightning
hung its festoons of fire around the rigging, giving it the
appearance of a chain of livid flame.
"We'll catch the but-end of a gulf sneezer soon. Tell the boys to
bear a hand with them sails. We must get her snug, and stand by to
lay her under a double-reefed maintop-sail and jib, with her head to
the northward and eastward. We may make a clear drift--chance if it
lasts long," said Skipper Thompson, as he stood surveying the
horizon and his craft. Scarcely had he given the orders before the
storm burst upon them with all its fury. Its suddenness can only be
appreciated by those who have sailed in the West India passages,
where the sudden shocks of the short-chopping sea acts with a
tremendous strain upon the hull of a heavy-laden vessel. The captain
ran to the windward gangway, hurrying his men in the discharge of
their duty, and giving another order to clew up the coursers and
foretop-sail. Just as the men had executed the first, and were about
to pull on the clew-lines of the latter, a sudden gust took effect
upon the bag of the sail and carried it clean from the bolt-ropes.
The halyards were lowered and the yards properly braced up, while
the Janson was brought to under the canvas we have before described.
In a few minutes more the wind had increased to a gale, and, as the
sailors say, several times the old craft "wouldn't look at it."
Several times we had to put her helm up, and as many times she
shipped those forcing cross seas which drive every thing before
them, and sweep the decks. At length a piece of canvas was lashed to
the fore-rigging which gave her a balance, and she rode easy until
about five o'clock in the morning, when by a sudden broach the
canvas was carried away, and a tremendous sharp sea boarded her
forward; starting several stanchions, carrying away part of her
starboard bulwark and rail, and simultaneously the
foretop-gallant-mast, which snapped just above the withe. As a
natural consequence, every thing was in the utmost confusion--the old
hull worked in every timber. The wreck swayed to and fro, retarding
the working of the vessel and endangering the lives of those who
attempted to clear it from obstruction. Thus she remained for more
than half an hour, nearly on her beam-ends, and at the mercy of each
succeeding sea that threatened to engulf her.
As daylight broke, the wind lulled, and, as usual in those waters,
the sea soon ran down. Enabled to take the advantage of daylight,
they commenced to clear away the wreck. In the mean time it was
found necessary to remove the fore-hatch in order to get out some
spare sails that had been stowed away near the forward bulkhead,
instead of a more appropriate place. The mate, after trying the
pumps in the early part of the gale, reported that she had started a
leak; which, however, was so trifling as to require but one man to
keep her free, until she broached, and carried away her
topgallant-mast. The man on duty then reported the water increasing,
and another was ordered to assist him. On an examination in the
morning, it was found that she was strained in the fore-channels,
and had started a but.
"She's an unlucky concern, skipper," said the mate as he brought the
axe to take the battons off the forehatch. "A fellow might as well
try to work a crab at low tide as to keep her to it in a blow like
that. She minds her helm like a porpoise in the breakers. Old Davy
must have put his mark upon her some time, but I never know'd a
lucky vessel to be got as she was. She makes a haul on the
underwriters every time she drifts across; for I never knew her to
sail clear since I shipped in the old tub. If she was mine, I'd find
a place for her at somebody's expense."
The sea became smooth, the water was found to have receded, the
wind, light, had hauled to W.S.W., and Cape Antoine was judged by
dead reckoning to bear S.S.W. about thirty miles distant. The
larboard fore-shrouds were found to have been scorched by the
lightning, which had completely melted the tar from the
after-shroud. All hands were now busily employed repairing the
wreck, which by two o'clock P.M. they had got so far completed as to
stand on their course in the gulf, at the rate of six knots an hour.
The skipper now consulted in his mind as to the expediency of making
for Havana or proceeding on his cruise. The leak had materially
diminished, and, like all old vessels, though she gave a good
portion of work at the pumps, a continuation of good weather might
afford an opportunity to shove her across. Under these feelings, he
was inclined to give the preference to his hopes rather than yield
to his fears. He considered the interest of all concerned--consulted
his mate, but found him governed by his superstition, and looking
upon the issue of his life about as certain whether he jumped
overboard or "stuck by the old tub." He considered again the
enormous port-charges imposed in Havana, the nature of his cargo in
regard to tariff, should his vessel be condemned, and the ruinous
expenses of discharging, &c. &c. together with the cost of repairs,
providing they were ordered. All these things he considered with the
mature deliberation of a good master, who has the general interests
of all concerned at heart. So, if he put away for a port, in
consideration of all concerned, his lien for general average would
have strong ground in maritime law; yet there were circumstances
connected with the sea-worthy condition of the craft--known to
himself, if not to the port-wardens, and which are matters of
condition between the master and his owners--which might, upon
certain technicalities of law, give rise to strong objectionable
points. With all these glancing before him, he, with commendable
prudence, resolved to continue his voyage, and trust to kind
Providence for the best.
"Captain," said the mate, as he stood viewing the prospect, with a
marlinespike in one hand and a piece of seizing in the other--"I
verily think, if that blow had stuck to us two hours longer, the old
tub would a' rolled her futtocks out. Ye don't know her as well as I
do. She's unlucky, anyhow; and always has been since she sot upon
the water. I've seen her top-sides open like a basket when we've
been trying to work her into port in heavy weather: and a craft that
won't look nearer than nine points close-hauled, with a stiff
breeze, ought to be sent into the Clyde for a coal-droger. An old
vessel's a perfect pickpocket to owners; and if this old thing
hasn't opened their purses as bad as her own seams, I'll miss my
reckonin'. I've had a strong foreknowledge that we wouldn't get
across in her. I saw the rats leaving in Jamaica--taking up their
line of march, like marines on the fore. It's a sure sign. And then
I'd a dream, which is as sure as a mainstay--never deceives me. I can
depend on its presentiment. I have dreamed it several times, and we
always had an awful passage. Twice we come within a bobstay of all
goin' to Old Davy's store-house. I once escaped it, after I'd had my
mysterious dream; but then I made the cook throw the cat overboard
just after we left port, and 'twas all that saved us."
Thus saying, he went forward to serve a topgallant-stay that was
stretched across the forecastle-hatch from the cat-heads, and had
just been spliced by the men, followed by an old-fashioned
sea-urchin, a miniature of the tar, with a mallet in his hand. The
captain, although a firm, intelligent man, and little given to such
notions of fate as are generally entertained by sailors, who never
shake off the spiritual imaginings of the forecastle, displayed some
discomfiture of mind at the strong character of the mate's
misgivings. He knew him to be a good sailor, firm in his duty, and
unmoved by peril. This he had proved on several occasions when
sailing in other vessels, when the last ray of hope seemed to be
gone. He approached the mate again, and with a pretence of making
inquiries about the storage of the cargo, sounded him further in
regard to his knowledge of the Bahamas, and with special reference
to the port of Nassau.
"Six-tenths of her timbers are as rotten as punk," said the mate;
"this North American timber never lasts long; the pump-wells are
defective, and when we carry sail upon her, they don't affect the
water in the lee-bilge, and she rolls it through her air-streaks
like a whale. She'll damage the best cargo that ever floated, in
that way. Take my word for it, skipper, she'll never go across the
Banks; she'll roll to splinters as soon as she gets into them long
seas; and if we get dismasted again, it's gone Davy."
"I know the old scow before to-day, and wouldn't shipped in her, if
I hadn't been lime-juiced by that villanous landlord that advanced
me the trifle. But I seen she was as deep as a luggerman's
sand-barge, and I popped the old cat overboard, just as we rounded
the point coming out o' Kingston harbour," said a fine,
active-looking sailor, who bore every trait of a royal tar, and
boasted of serving five years in the East-India service, to his
shipmate, while he continued to serve the stay. His words were
spoken in a whisper, and not intended for the captain's ears. The
captain overheard him, however; and, as a vessel is a world to those
on board, the general sentiment carries its weight in controlling
its affairs. Thus the strong feeling which prevailed on board could
not fail to have its effect upon the captain's mind.
"Well, we'll try her at any rate," said the captain, walking aft and
ordering the cabin-boy to bring up his glass; with which he took a
sharp look to the southward.
"I'd shape her course for a southern Yankee port. I haven't been
much in them, but I think we'll stand a better chance there than in
these ports where they make a speculation of wrecking, and would
take a fellow's pea-jacket for salvage." "We're always better under
the protection of a consul than in a British port," said the mate,
coming aft to inform the skipper that they had carried away the
chains of the bobstay, and that the bowsprit strained her in the
knight-heads.
CHAPTER II.
THE STEWARD'S BRAVERY.
DURING the worst of the gale, a mulatto man, with prominent
features, indicating more of the mestino than negro character, was
moving in busy occupation about the deck, and lending a willing hand
with the rest of the crew to execute the captain's orders. He was
rather tall, well formed, of a light olive complexion, with dark,
piercing eyes, a straight, pointed nose, and well-formed mouth. His
hair, also, had none of that crimp so indicative of negro
extraction, but lay in dark curls all over his head. As he answered
to the captain's orders, he spoke in broken accents, indicating but
little knowledge of the English language. From the manner in which
the crew treated him, it was evident that he was an established
favourite with them as well as the officers, for each appeared to
treat him more as an equal than a menial. He laboured cheerfully at
sailor's duty until the first sea broke over her, when, seeing that
the caboose was in danger of being carried from the lashings, and
swept to leeward in the mass of wreck, he ran for that all-important
apartment, and began securing it with extra lashings. He worked away
with an earnestness that deserved all praise; not with the most
satisfactory effect for an angry sea immediately succeeding
completely stripped the furnace of its woodwork, and in its force
carried the gallant fellow among its fragments into the
lee-scuppers, where he saved himself from going overboard only by
clinging to a stanchion.
The second mate, a burly old salt, ran to his assistance, but,
before he reached him, our hero had recovered himself, and was
making another attempt to reach his coppers. It seemed to him as
much a pending necessity to save the cooking apparatus as it did the
captain to save the ship.
"He no catch me dis time," said he to the mate, smiling as he lifted
his drenched head from among the fragments of the wreck. "I fix a de
coffee in him yet, please God."
After securing the remains of his cooking utensils, he might be seen
busily employed over a little stove, arranged at the foot of the
stairs that led to the cabin. The smoke from the funnel several
times annoyed the captain, who laboured under the excitement
consequent upon the confusion of the wreck and peril of his vessel,
bringing forth remonstrances of no very pleasant character. It
proved that the good steward was considering how he could best serve
Jack's necessities; and while they were laboring to save the ship,
lie was studiously endeavoring to anticipate the craving of their
stomachs. For when daylight appeared and the storm subsided, the
steward had a bountiful dish of hot coffee to relieve Jack's
fatigued system. It was received with warm welcome, and many
blessings were heaped upon the head of the steward; A good "doctor"
is as essential for the interests of owners and crew as a good
captain. So it proved in this instance, for while he had a careful
regard for the stores, he never failed to secure the praises of the
crew.
"When I gib de stove fire, den me gib de Cap-i-tan, wid de crew,
some good breakfas," said he with a gleam of satisfaction.
This individual, reader, was Manuel Pereira, or, as he was called by
his shipmates, Pe-rah-re. Manuel was born in Brazil, an extract of
the Indians and Spanish, claiming birthright of the Portuguese
nation. It mattered but very little to Manuel where he was born, for
he had been so long tossed about in his hardy vocation that he had
almost become alienated from the affections of birthplace. He had
sailed so long under the protection of the main-jack of old England
that he had formed a stronger allegiance to that country than to any
other. He had sailed under it with pride, had pointed to its emblem,
as if he felt secure, when it was unfurled, that the register-ticket
which that government had given him was a covenant between it and
himself; that it was a ticket to incite him to good behavior in a
foreign country; and that the flag was sure to protect his rights,
and insure, from the government to which he sailed respect and
hospitality. He had sailed around the world under it--visited savage
and semi-civilized nations--had received the hospitality of
cannibals, had joined in the merry dance with the Otaheitian, had
eaten fruits with the Hottentots, shared the coarse morsel of the
Greenlander, been twice chased by the Patagonians--but what shall we
say?--he was imprisoned, for the olive tints of his color, in a land
where not only civilization rules in its brightest conquests, but
chivalry and honor sound its fame within the lanes, streets, and
court-yards. Echo asks, Where--where? We will tell the reader. That
flag which had waved over him so long and in so many of his
wayfarings--that flag which had so long boasted its rule upon the
wave, and had protected him among the savage and the civilized,
found a spot upon this wonderful globe where it ceased to do so,
unless he could change his skin.
CHAPTER III.
THE SECOND STORM.
ON the fourth night succeeding the perilous position of the Janson
off Cape Antoine, the brig was making about seven knots, current of
the gulf included. The sun had set beneath heavy radiant clouds,
which rolled up like masses of inflamed matter, reflecting in a
thousand mellow shades, and again spreading their gorgeous shadows
upon the rippled surface of the ocean, making the picture serene and
grand.
As darkness quickly followed, these beautiful transparencies of a
West-India horizon gradually changed into murky-looking monitors,
spreading gloom in the sombre perspective. The moon was in its
second quarter, and was rising on the earth. The mist gathered
thicker and thicker as she ascended, until at length she became
totally obscured. The Captain sat upon the companion-way, anxiously
watching the sudden change that was going on overhead; and, without
speaking to any one, rose, took a glance at the compass, and then
went forward to the lookout, charging him to keep a sharp watch, as
they were not only in a dangerous channel, but in the track of
vessels bound into and out of the gulf. After this, he returned
amidship, where the little miniature salt we have described before
lay, with his face downward, upon the main-hatch, and ordering him
to bring the lead-line, he went to leeward and took a cast; and
after paying out about twenty-five fathoms without sounding, hauled
aboard again. The wind was southward and light. As soon as he had
examined the lead he walked aft and ordered the sheets eased and the
vessel headed two points farther off. This done, he went below, and
shaking his barometer several times, found it had begun to fall very
fast. Taking down his coast-chart, he consulted it very studiously
for nearly half an hour, laying off an angle with a pair of dividers
and scale, with mathematical minuteness; after which he pricked his
course along the surface to a given point. This was intended as his
course.
"Where do you make her, Captain?" said the mate, as he lay in his
berth.
"We must be off the Capes--we must keep a sharp look out for them
reefs. They are so deceptive that we'll be on to them before we know
it. There's no telling by sounding. We may get forty fathoms one
minute and strike the next. I've heard old West-India coasters say
the white water was the best warning," replied the Captain.
"I'm mighty afraid of that Carysfort reef, since I struck upon it in
1845. I was in a British schooner then, bound from Kingston,
Jamaica, to New York. We kept a bright lookout, all the way through
the passage, and yet struck, one morning just about day-light; and,
five minutes before, we had sounded without getting bottom. When it
cleared away, that we could see, there was two others like
ourselves. One was the ship John Parker, of Boston, and the other
was a 'long-shoreman. We had a valuable cargo on board, but the
craft wasn't hurt a bit; and if the skipper--who was a little
colonial man, not much acquainted with the judicial value of a
wrecker's services--had a' taken my advice, he wouldn't got into the
snarl he did at Key West, where they carried him, and charged him
thirty-six hundred dollars for the job. Yes, and a nice little
commission to the British consul for counting the doubloons, which,
by-the-by, Skipper, belonged to that great house of Howland &
Aspinwalls. They were right clever fellows, and it went into the
general average account for the relief of the underwriters' big
chest," continued the mate.
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12 |
13 |
14 |
15 |
16 |
17 |
18 |
19