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