IT was about ten o'clock on the night of the fifteenth of April when the schooner “Three Sisters” lay anchored close alongside of a dark jungle of clustering brakes that hung their luxuriant foliage upon the bosom of the stream. The captain sat upon a little box near the quarter, apparently contemplating the scene, for there was a fairy-like beauty in its dark windings, mellowed by the shadowing foliage that skirted its borders in mournful grandeur, while stars twinkled on the sombre surface.

The tide had just turned, and little Tommy, who had rolled himself up in a blanket and laid down close to the captain, suddenly arose. “Captain, did you hear that?” said he.

“Hark! there it is again,” said the captain. “Go and call the men,—we must get under weigh.”

It was a rustling noise among the brakes; and when little Tommy went forward to call the men, two balls came whistling over the quarter, and then a loud rustling noise indicated that persons were retreating. The captain retired to the cabin and took Tommy with him, giving orders to the negro pilot to stand to the deck, get her anchor up, and let her drift up stream with the tide, determined that if they shot any person, it should be the negroes, for whose value they would be held answerable. Thus she drifted up the stream, and the next morning was at the creek at Colonel Whaley's plantation.

A number of ragged negroes came down to the bank in high glee at the arrival, and making sundry inquiries about corn and bacon. One old patriarchal subject cried out to the pilot, “Ah, Cesar, I 'now'd ye wah cumin'. Massa, an' young Massa Aleck, bin promis' bacon mor' den week, gess he cum' now.”

“Got sum corn, but ven ye gets bacon out o' dis craf' ye kotch wesel, dat a'n't got no hair on 'im,” said Cesar.

The scene around was any thing but promising-disappointing to the captain's exalted ideas of Colonel Whaley's magnificent plantation. The old farm-house was a barrack-like building, dilapidated, and showing no signs of having lately furnished a job for the painter, and standing in an arena surrounded by an enclosure of rough slats. Close examination disclosed fragments of gardening in the arena, but they showed the unmistakable evidences of carelessness. At a short distance from this was a cluster of dirty-looking negro-huts, raised a few feet from the ground on palmetto piles, and strung along from them to the brink of the river were numerous half-starved cattle and hogs, the latter rooting up the sod.

It was now nearly slack water, on a high flood, and the schooner lay just above the bend of the creek. Presently a large, portly-looking man, dressed like as Yorkshire farmer, came, to the bank, and in a stentorious voice ordered the captain to haul into the creek at once! The manner in which the order was given rather taxed the captain's feelings, yet he immediately set his men to work heaving up the anchor and carrying out “a line” to warp her in. But that slow motion with which negroes execute all orders, caused some delay, and no sooner had he, begun to heave on the line than the tide set strong ebb and carried him upon the lower point, where a strong eddy, made by the receding water from the creek, and the strong undertow in the river, baffled all his exertions. There she stuck, and all the warps and tow-lines of a seventy-four, hove by the combined strength of the plantation, would not have started her. When the tide left, she careened over toward the river, for there was no means at hand to shore her up.

One of the drivers went up and reported “Massa captain got 'im ship ashore,” and down came Colonel Whaley, with all the pomp of seven lord mayors in his countenance. “What sort of a feller are you to command a ship? I'd whip the worst nigger on the plantation, if he couldn't do better than that. Rig a raft out and let me come o' board that vessel!” said he, accompanying his demands with a volley of vile imprecations that would have disgraced St. Giles'.

“Do you know who you're talking to? You mus'n't take me for a nigger, sir! I know my duty, if you don't good manners,” rejoined the captain.

“Do you know who owns that ship? you impudent feller, you! Take the sails off her, immediately-at once! or I'll shoot you, by heavens!” he bawled out again.

“Why didn't you say mud-scow? Call such a thing as this a ship? I don't care who owns her, I only know it's a disgrace to sail her; but I've got the papers, and you may help yourself. When you pay me for my time, and give me something for myself and these men to eat, you may take your old jebac—car-boat,—but you don't put a foot aboard her till you do!”

This made the colonel rage worse. “I'll teach you a lesson how you disobey my orders. Go get my rifle, Zeke,” said the colonel, turning to an old negro who stood close by. And then calling to the men on board, he ordered them to take charge of the vessel and take the sails off her at once.

“Don't you move a hand to unbend a sail, Cesar! I don't know that man ashore there. This vessel is mine until further orders from the persons who shipped me,” rejoined the captain with an imperative demand to his men.

“Why, la! massa, he own em dis ere vessel, an' he shoot em sartin if we done do him; ye done know dat massa, as I does,” said Cesar.

“Don't touch a hand to those sails, I command one and all of you. There's two can play at shooting, and I'll shoot you if you disobey my orders.” Then turning to those on shore, he warned them that he would shoot the first nigger that attempted to make a raft to come on board. The reader will observe that the poor negroes were in a worse dilemma than the captain; goaded on the one side by a ruthless master, who claims ownership and demands the execution of his orders, while on the other extreme the hired master proclaims his right, and warns them against the peril of varying one iota from his commands. Here the clashing feelings of arbitrary men come together, which have placed many a good negro in that complex position, that he would be punished by one master for doing that which he would have been punished by the other if he had left undone.

It may be said to the colonel's credit, he did not return, rifle in hand, nor did the captain see him afterward; but a young gentleman, a son, who represented the father, came to the bank about an hour after the occurrence, and making a lame apology for his father's temper, requested the captain to come on shore. The latter had concluded to await the return of the tide, run the vessel back to Charleston, report his reception, and deliver the vessel up to the agents; but on further consideration, there was nothing to eat on board, and what could he do? He went on shore, and held a parley with the young man, whom he found much more inclined to respect his color. “Your father took me for a nigger, and as such he presumed upon the dignity of his plantation. Now I know my duty, and have sailed in the finest ships and with the best masters in the country. All I want is proper respect, something to eat, what there is coming to me, and my passage paid back to Charleston by land. No! I will not even request so much as that; give me something to eat, and my passage to Charleston, and you may do what you please with the vessel, but I shall deliver the papers to nobody but the persons who shipped me. And I shall want you to see this little boy attended to, for he's quite sick now,” said the captain, pointing to Tommy, and calling him to him.

“Oh yes,” replied the young man, “we'll take care of the little fellow, and see him sent safely back,” and took leave, promising to have another interview in the afternoon. About twelve o'clock a negro boy came to the vessel with a tin pan covered with a towel, and presenting it to Cesar, for “massa cap'en and buckra boy.” Cesar brought it aft and set it upon the companion. It contained some rice, a piece of bacon, corn-cake, and three sweet-potatoes.

“Coarse fare, but I can get along with it. Come Tommy, I guess you're hungry, as well as myself,” said the captain, and they sat down, and soon demolished the feast of Southern hospitality. About five o'clock in the evening, the young man not making his appearance, the Captain sent Tommy ashore to inquire for him at the house, telling him (in order to test their feelings) that he could stop and get his supper. Tommy clambered ashore, and up the bank wending his way to the house. The young man made his appearance, offering an apology for his delay and inattention, saying the presence of some very particular friends from Beaufort was the cause. “My father, you are aware, owns this vessel, captain!—You got a good dinner, to-day, by-the-by,” said he.

“Yes, we got along with it, but could have eaten more,” rejoined the captain.

“Ah! bless me, that was the nigger's fault. These niggers are such uncertain creatures, you must watch 'em over the least thing. Well now, captain, my father has sent you five dollars to pay your passage to Charleston!”

“Well, that's a small amount, but I'll try and get along with it, rather than stop here, at any rate,” said the captain, taking the bill and twisting it into his pocket, and giving particular charges in regard to taking care of the boy. That night, a little after sundown, he took passage in a downward-bound coaster, bid a long good-by to the Edisto and Colonel Whaley's plantation, and arrived in Charleston the next night. On the following morning he presented himself to the agents, who generously paid him, all his demands, and expressed their regrets at the circumstance. Acting upon the smart of feeling, the captain enclosed the five-dollar bill and returned it to the sovereign Colonel Whaley.

The Savannah Republican, of the 11th September, says-“We have been kindly furnished with the particulars of a duel which came off at Major Stark's plantation, opposite this city, yesterday morning, between Colonel E. M. Whaley, and E. E. Jenkins, of South Carolina.” Another paper stated that “after a single exchange of shot, * * * * the affair terminated, but without a reconciliation.” The same Colonel Whaley! Either 'of these journals might have give particulars more grievous, and equally as expressive of Southern life. They might have described a beautiful wife, a Northern lady, fleeing with her two children, to escape the abuses of a faithless husband-taking shelter in the Charleston Hotel, and befriended by Mr. Jenkins and another young man, whose name we shall not mention-and that famous establishment surrounded by the police on a Sabbath night, to guard its entrances-and she dragged forth, and carried back to the home of unhappiness.