“Well, here is the Captain of his vessel, a friend of mine, whom I esteem a gentleman-for all captains ought to be gentlemen, not excepting Georgia captains and majors,” said the colonel, jocosely, turning round and introducing the Captain to his honor. “Now, your honor, you will indulge me by listening to the little fellow’s story, which will be corroborated in its material points by the statements of the Captain, which, I trust, will be sufficient; if not, we shall recur to the jailer.”
“It will be sufficient. I am only sorry there has been so much trouble about it,” said the mayor.
The boy now commenced to tell his story, which the mayor listened to with all learned attention. No sooner had Tommy finished, and the Captain arose to confirm his statements, than the mayor declared himself satisfied, apologized for the trouble it had caused, and discharged the boy upon paying the costs, the amount of which the colonel took from his pocket and threw upon the table. Thus was Tommy’s joy complete; not so the poor negro whose ill luck he shared. This high-sounding mayor’s court was like Csar’s court, with the exceptions in Csar’s favor.
Emeute among the stewards.
Several days had passed ere we again introduce the reader to the cell of the imprisoned stewards. The captain of the Janson had been assured by Mr. Grimshaw that every thing was comfortable at the jail, and Manuel would be well cared for. Confiding in this, the activity of the consul to bring the matter before the proper authorities-and the manner in which his own time was engrossed with his business-left him no opportunity to visit Manuel at the jail. Tommy and one of the sailors had carried him his hammock, and a few things from the ship’s stores; and with this exception, they had but little to eat for several days. Copeland had but a few days more to remain, and, together with those who were with him, had exhausted their means, in providing from day to day, during their imprisonment. The poor woman who did their washing, a generous-hearted mulatto, had brought them many things, for which she asked no compensation. Her name was Jane Bee, and when the rules of the jail made every man his own washerwoman, she frequently washed for those who had nothing to pay her. But her means were small, and she worked hard for a small pittance, and had nothing to bring them for several days. They were forced to take the allowance of bread, but could not muster resolution to eat the sickly meat.
Those who had suffered from it before, took it as a natural consequence, looking to the time of their release, as if it was to bring a happy change in their lives. But Manuel felt that it was an unprecedented outrage upon his feelings, and was determined to remonstrate against it. He knocked loudly at the door, and some of the prisoners hearing it, reported to the jailer, who sent Daley to answer it. As soon as the door was opened, he rushed past, and succeeded in gaining the iron door that opened into the vestibule, where he could converse with the Jailer, through the grating, before Daley could stop him.