IT was nearly eleven o'clock as they ascended the jail steps and rang the bell for admittance. The jailer, a stout, rough-looking man, opened the iron door, and as Manuel was about to step over the stone sill, Dunn gave him a sudden push that sent him headlong upon the floor. “Heavens! what now?” inquired the jailer with a look of astonishment, and at the next moment Dunn raised his foot to kick Manuel in the face.

“You infernal beast!” said the jailer, “you are more like a savage than a man-you are drunk now, you vagabond,” and jumped in between them to save him from the effect of the blow. As he did this, the gentleman who accompanied them from the “corner-shop,” as a protection against Dunn's cruelty, fetched Dunn a blow on the back of the neck that made him stagger against a door, and created such confusion as to arouse the whole jail. Turning to Manuel, he, with the assistance of the jailer, raised him from the ground and led him into the jail-office. “Mister jailer,” said Dunn, “the prisoner is mine until such times as you receipt the commitment, and I demand protection from you against this man. He has committed two violent assaults upon me, when I'd be doing me duty.”

“You have violated all duty, and are more like an incarnate fiend. You first decoy men into rum-shops, and then you plunder and abuse them, because you think they are black and can get no redress. You abused that man unmercifully, because you knew his evidence was not valid against you!” said the gentleman, turning to the jailer, and giving him the particulars of what he saw in the “corner-shop,” and what cruelties he had seen practised by Dunn on former occasions.

The jailer looked upon Manuel with commiseration, and handed him a chair to sit down on. The poor fellow was excited and fatigued, for he had eaten nothing that day, and been treated more like a brute than a human being from the time, he left the ship until he arrived at the jail. He readily accepted the kind offer, and commenced to tell the story of his treatment.

“You need' not tell me,—I know too much of that man already. It has long been a mystery to me why he is retained in office.”—

Here Dunn interrupted. “Sure it's yer master I'd obey and not yerself, an' I'd do what I'd plase with prisoners, and, it's his business and not yeers. If ye had yer way, sure you'd be makin' white men of every nigger that ye turned a key upon.”

“Give me none of your insolence,” said the jailer. “You have no authority beyond my door. Your brutal treatment to prisoners has caused me an immense deal of trouble-more than my paltry pay would induce me to stay for. Suppose you were indicted for these outrages? What would be the result?” asked the jailer.

“Sure it's meself could answer for the sheriff, without yer bothering yerself. I'd not work for yer, but for him; and he's yer master anyhow, and knows all about it. Give me the receipt, and that's all I'd ax yer. When a nigger don't mind me, I just makes him feel the delight of a hickory stick.”

“Yes, if you had the shame of a man in you, you'd not make a beast of yourself with liquor, and treat these poor stewards as if they were dogs,” said the jailer.

“Indeed, ye might learn a thing or two if ye was a politician like meself, and belonged to the secession party. An' if his honor the sheriff-for he's a dacent man-knew ye'd be preachin' in that shape, ye wouldn't keep the jail f'nent the morning. Be letting me out, and make much of the nigger; ye have him there.”

The jailer unlocked the door and allowed him to pass out, with a pertinent rebuke. This was but a trifling affair in Dunn's ear, for he knew his master's feelings too well, and was backed by him in his most intolerable proceedings. Returning to the office, he looked at the commitment, and then again at Manuel. “This is a 'contrary to law' case, I see, Mr. Manuel; you are a likely fellow too, to come within that,” said he.

“Yes. If I understand him right, he's a shipwrecked sailor, belonging to a foreign vessel that was driven in here in distress,” said the man. “It's a hard law that imprisons a colored seaman who comes here voluntarily; but it seems beyond all manner of precedent to imprison a shipwrecked man like this, especially when he seems so respectable. There are no circumstances to warrant the enforcement of such a law.” Thus saying, he left the jail.

Be it said of the jailer, to his honor, so far as personal kindness went, he did his utmost—brought him water to wash himself, and gave him some clean clothes. After which, he was registered upon the criminal calendar as follows:—

“March 24, 1852.—Manuel Peirire.—[Committed by] Sheriff—Sheriff. Crime—Contrary to law.”

Now the jailer had done his duty, so far as his feelings were concerned; but, such were the stern requirements of the law, and his functions so restricted by Mr. Grimshaw, that he dare not make distinctions. He called Daley, one of the criminal assistants, and ordered him to show the prisoner his room.

“Here, my boy, take yer blanket,” said Daley; and throwing him a coarse, filthy-looking blanket, told him to roll it up and follow him. “It's on the second floor we'll put ye, among the stewards; there's a nice lot on 'em to keep yer company, and ye'll have a jolly time, my boy.” Manuel followed through the second iron door until he came to a large door secured with heavy bolts and bars, which Daley began to withdraw and unlock. “Don't be takin' it amiss; it's a right good crib, savin' the' bed, an' it's that's the worst of it. Bad luck to old Grimshaw, an' himself thinks everybody's bones be's as tuf as his own,” said Daley, and threw open the heavy doors, sending forth those ominous prison sounds. “All here? Ah! yer a pretty set of lambs, as the British consul calls yees. Have ye ever a drop to spare?” At this, three or four respectable-looking black men came to the door and greeted Manuel. “Come, talk her out, for th' auld man'll be on the scent.” At this, one of the confined stewards, a tall, good-looking mulatto man, ran his hand into a large opening in the wall, and drew forth a little soda-bottle filled with Monongahela whisky. Without giving reasonable time for politeness, Daley seized the bottle, and putting it to his mouth, gauged about half its contents into his homony dept, smacked his lips, wiped his mouth with his cuff, and, passing the balance back, shut and rebolted the door, after saying, “Good luck till yees, an' I wish yees a merry time.” The reader may imagine what provision the State or the sheriff had made for the comfort of these poor men, one of whom was imprisoned because it was “contrary to law” to be driven into the port of Charleston in distress, and the rest, peaceable, unoffending citizens belonging to distant States and countries, and guilty of no crime, when we describe the room and regimen to which they were subjected. The room was about twenty-six feet long and ten feet wide. The brick walls were plastered and colored with some kind of blue wash, which, however, was so nearly obliterated with dirt and the damp of a southern climate, as to leave but little to show what its original color was. The walls were covered with the condensed moisture of the atmosphere, spiders hung their festooned network overhead, and cockroaches and ants, those domesticated pests of South Carolina, were running about the floor in swarms, and holding all legal rights to rations in superlative contempt. Two small apertures in the wall, about fourteen inches square, and double-barred with heavy flat iron, served to admit light and air. The reader may thus judge of its gloomy appearance, and what a miserable unhealthy cell it must have been in which to place men just arrived from sea. There was not the first vestige of furniture in the room, not; even a bench to sit upon, for the State, with its gracious hospitality, forgot that men in jail ever sit down; but it was in keeping with all other things that the State left to the control of its officials.

“Am I to be punished in this miserable place? Why, I cannot see where I'm going; and have I nothing to lay down upon but the floor, and that creeping with live creatures?” inquired Manuel of those who were already inured to the hardship.

“Nothing! nothing! Bring your mind to realize the worst, and forget the cruelty while you are suffering it; they let us out a part of the day. We are locked up to-day because one of the assistants stole my friend's liquor, and he dared to accuse him of the theft, because he was a white man,” said a tall, fine-looking mulatto man by the name of James Redman, who was steward on board a Thomastown (Maine) ship, and declared that he had visited Charleston on a former occasion, and by paying five dollars to one of the officers, remained on board of the ship unmolested.

“And how long shall I have to suffer in this manner?” inquired Manuel. “Can I not have my own bed and clothing?”

“Oh, yes,” said Redman; “you can have them, but if you bring them here, they'll not be worth anything when you leave; and the prisoners upon this floor are so starved and destitute, that necessity forces them to steal whatever comes in their way; and the assistants are as much implicated as the prisoners. You'll fare hard; but just do as we do in a calm, wait for the wind to blow, and pray for the best. If you say any thing, or grumble about it, the sheriff will order you locked, up on the third story, and that's worse than death itself. The first thing you do, make preparations for something to eat. We pay for it here, but don't get it; and you'd starve afore you'd eat what they give them poor white prisoners. They suffer worse than we do, only they have cleaner rooms.”

“I pray for my deliverance from such a place as this.”

His manners and appearance at once enlisted the respect of those present, and they immediately set to work, with all the means at hand, to make him comfortable. Joseph Jociquei, a young man who had been taken from a vessel just arrived from Rio, and was more fortunate than the rest, in having a mattrass, seeing Manuel's weak condition, immediately removed it from its place, and spreading it upon the floor, invited him to lay down. The invitation was as acceptable as it was kind on the part of Jociquei, and the poor fellow laid his weary limbs upon it, and almost simultaneously fell into a profound sleep. Manuel continued to sleep. His face and head were scarred in several places; which were dressed and covered with pieces of plaster that the jailer had supplied. His companions, for such we shall call those who were confined with him, sat around him, discussing the circumstances that brought him there, and the manner in which they could best relieve his suffering. “It's just as I was sarved,” said Redman. “And I'll bet that red-headed constable, Dunn, brought him up: and abused him in all them Dutch shops. I didn't know the law, and he made me give him three dollars not to put the handcuffs upon me, and then I had to treat him in every grog-shop we came to. Yes, and the last shop we were in, he throw'd liquor in me face, cursed the Dutchman that kept the shop, kick'd me, and tried every way in the world to raise a fuss. If I hadn't know'd the law here too well, I'd whipt him sure. I have suffered the want of that three dollars since I bin here. 'Twould sarved me for coffee. We have neither coffee nor bread to-night, for we gave our allowance of bad bread to the white prisoners, but we must do something to make the poor fellow comfortable. I know the constable has kept him all day coming up, and he'll be hungry as soon as he awakes.”

“Won't he receive his allowance to-day like another prisoner?” inquired Copeland, a thick-set, well made, dark-skinned negro steward, who had formerly conducted a barber shop in Fleet street, Boston, but was now attached to the schooner Oscar Jones, Kellogg, master.

“Oh! no, sir,” said Redman, “that's against the rules of the jail-every thing is done by rule here, even to paying for what we don't get, and starving the prisoners. A man that don't come in before eleven o'clock gets no ration until the next morning. I know, because I had a fuss with the jailer about it, the first day I was brought in; but he gin me a loaf out of his own house. The old sheriff never allows any thing done outside the rules, for he's tighter than a mantrap. 'T a'n't what ye suffers in this cell, but it's what ye don't get to eat; and if that poor feller a'n't got money, he'll wish himself alongside the caboose again 'fore he gets out.” The poor fellows were driven to the extreme of providing sustenance to sustain life. They mustered their little means together, and by giving a sum to the sheriff's black boy, (a man more intelligent, gentlemanly, and generous-hearted than his master,) had a measure of coffee, sugar, and bread brought in. Necessity was the mother of invention with them, for they had procured a barrel for twenty-five cents, and made it supply the place of a table. With a few chips that were brought to them by a kind-hearted colored woman that did their washing, and bestowed many little acts of kindness, they made a fire, endured the annoyance of a dense smoke from the old fire-place, and prepared their little supper. As soon as it was upon the table, they awoke Manuel, and invited him to join in their humble fare. The poor fellow arose, and looking around the gloomy, cavern-like place, heaved a deep sigh. “It's hard to be brought to this for nothing!” said he; “and my bones are so sore that I can scarcely move. I must see the Captain and consul.”

“That won't do any good; you might as well keep quiet and drink your coffee. A prisoner that says the least in this jail is best off,” returned Redman.

Manuel took his bowl of coffee and a piece of bread, eating it with a good appetite, and asking what time they got breakfast. “It's the first time I was abused in a foreign country. I'm Portuguese, but a citizen of Great Britain, and got my protection.-When it won't save me, I'll never come to South Carolina again, nor sail where a flag won't protect me. When I go among Patagonians, I know what they do; but when I sail to United States or be cast away on them, I don't know what they do, because I expect good people.” * * *

“Never mind, my good fellow,” said Redman; “cheer up, take it as a good sailor would a storm, and in the morning you'll get a small loaf of sour bread and a bucket of water for breakfast, if you go to the pump for it. Be careful to moderate your appetite when you breakfast according to the State's rules; for you must save enough to last you during the day, and if you can keep “banyan day,” as the Bluenose calls it, you're just the man for this institution, and no mistake. Come, I see you're hungry; drink another bowl of coffee, and eat plenty of bread; then you'll be all right for another good sleep.”

“Yes, but I don't expect to be in here long. But tell me, do we get nothing more than a loaf? didn't the jail give us this supper?” he inquired with surprise.

“Supper, indeed!—it's against the rules for prisoners to have coffee; that's our private fixings; but you'll get a pound of bloody neck-bone, they call beef, in the morning. I have twice thrown mine to the dog, but he doesn't seem to thank me for it; so I told the cook he needn't trouble his steelyards for me again.”

Redman's conversation was interrupted by a noise that seemed to be a ring of the prison bell, and an anxious expression which Manuel gave utterance to, indicated that he expected somebody would come to see him. He was not disappointed, for a few minutes after, the bolts were heard to withdraw and the heavy door swung back. There, true to his charge, was little Tommy, in his nicest blue rig, tipped off a la man-o'-war touch, with his palmetto-braid hat,—a long black ribbon displayed over the rim,—his hair combed so slick, and his little round face and red cheeks so plump and full of the sailor-boy pertness, with his blue, braided shirt-collar laid over his jacket, and set off around the neck, with a black India handkerchief, secured at the throat with the joint of a shark's backbone. He looked the very picture and pattern of a Simon-Pure salt. He had wended his way through strange streets and lanes, with a big haversack under his arm, which Daley had relieved him of at the door, and brought into the room under his arm. As soon as Manuel caught a glimpse of him, he rose and clasped the little fellow in his arms with a fond embrace. No greeting could be more affecting. Manuel exulted at seeing his little companion; but Tommy looked grieved, and asked, “But what has scarred your face so, Manuel? You didn't look that way when you left the brig. We have had a site o' folks down to see us to-day.”

“Oh, that's nothing!—just a little fall I got; don't tell the Captain: it'll all be well to-morrow.”

“Here, Jack, take your knapsack; did yer bring ever a drop o' liquor for the steward?” said Daley, addressing himself to Tommy, and putting the package upon the floor.

“Yes, Manuel!” said Tommy, “the Captain sent you some nice bread and ham, some oranges and raisins, and a bottle of nice claret,—for he was told by the consul that they didn't give 'em nothing to eat at the jail. And I had a tug with 'em, I tell you. I got lost once, and got a good-natured black boy to pilot me for a Victoria threepence,—but he did not like to carry the bundle to the jail, for fear of his master. Captain 'll be up first thing in the morning, if he can get away from business,” said the little tar, opening the haversack and pulling out its contents to tempt the hungry appetites of those around him.

Daley very coolly took the bottle of claret by the neck, and holding it between himself and the light, took a lunar squint at it, as if doubting its contents; and then, putting it down, exclaimed, “Ah! the divil a red I'd give you for your claret. Sure, why didn't ye bring a token of good old hardware?” “Hardware! what is hardware?” inquired Manuel. “Ah! botheration to the bunch of yees—a drap of old whiskey, that 'd make the delight cum f'nent. Have ye ne'er a drap among the whole o' yees?” Receiving an answer in the negative, he turned about with a Kilkenny, “It don't signify,” and toddled for the door, which he left open, to await Tommy's return. Redman knew Daley's propensity too well, and having ocular proof that he had wet t'other eye until it required more than ordinary effort to make either one stay open, he declined recognising his very significant hint.

As soon as Daley withdrew, Manuel invited his companions to partake of the Captain's present, which they did with general satisfaction.