Daley cried lustily for help, adding the very convenient item of murder, to make his case more alarming.  Several persons had crowded around the door, but none could gain admittance.  The jailer had no sooner reached the door, than (most unfortunately for Manuel) he was called back to the outer door, to admit Mr. Grimshaw, who had just rung the bell.  The moment he entered, Daley’s noise was loudest, and reached his ears before he had gained the outside gate.  He rushed up-stairs, followed by the jailer, and demanded entrance at the cell door, swearing at the top of his voice that he would break it in with an axe if the command was not instantly obeyed.

The door opened, and Manuel stood with his left hand extended at Daley.  “Come in, gentlemen, I catch him, one rascal, what steal my provision every day, and I punish him, what he remember when I leave.”

Daley stood trembling against the wall, bearing the marks of serious injury upon his face and eyes.  “At it again, Daley?  Ah!  I thought you had left off them tricks!” said the jailer.

Daley began to tell a three-cornered story, and to give as many possible excuses, with equally as many characteristic bulls in them.  “I don’t want to hear your story, Daley,” said Mr. Grimshaw.  “But, Mr. Jailer, I command you to lock that man up in the third story,” pointing to Manuel.  “I don’t care what the circumstances are.  He’s given us more trouble than he’s worth.  He tried to pass himself off for a white man, but he couldn’t come that, and now he’s had the impudence to strike a white man; lock him up! lock him up!! and keep him locked up until further orders from me.  I’ll teach him a lesson that he never learnt before he came to South Carolina; and then let Consul Mathew sweat over him, and raise another fuss if he can.”

“If he’s guilty of violating the rules of the jail, Daley is guilty of misdemeanour, and the thieving has been aggravatingly continued.  If we put one, we must put both up,” said the jailer.

“Just obey my orders, Mr. Jailer.  I will reprimand Daley to-morrow.  I shall just go to the extent of the law with that feller,” said Grimshaw peremptorily.

“You may lock me up in a dungeon, do with me as you will, if the power is yours; but my feelings are my own, and you cannot crush them.  I look to my consul, and the country that has protected me around the world, and can protect me still,” said Manuel, resigning himself to the jailer, whose intentions he knew to be good.

Poor little Tommy stood begging and crying for his friend and companion, for he heard Mr. Grimshaw give an imperative order to the jailer not to allow visitors into his cell.  “Never mind, Tommy, we shall soon meet again, and sail companions for the old owners.  Don’t cry; the jailer will let you see me to-morrow,” said Manuel.

“No, I can’t do that; you heard my orders; I must obey them.  I should like to do it, but it’s out of my power,” returned the jailer, awaiting with a bunch of keys in his hand.