"Take your' little jebacca-boat and go to thunder with her," said
the captain, commencing to pick up his duds.
"Why, captain, I lent you my gun, and we always expect our captains
to make fresh provision of game as you run up the river," said
George.
"Fresh provisions, the devil!" said the captain. "I've enough to do
to mind my duty, without hunting my living as I pursue my voyage,
like a hungry dog. We don't do business on your nigger-allowance
system in Maryland." And here we leave him, getting one of the
negroes to carry his things back to his boarding-house.
A few days after the occurrence we have narrated above little Tommy,
somewhat recovered from his cold, shipped on board a little
centre-board schooner, called the Three Sisters, bound to the Edisto
River for a cargo of rice. The captain, a little, stubby man, rather
good looking, and well dressed, was making his maiden voyage as
captain of a South Carolina craft. He was "South Carolina born,"
but, like many others of his kind, had been forced to seek his
advancement in a distant State, through the influence of those
formidable opinions which exiles the genius of the poor in South
Carolina. For ten years he had sailed out of the port of Boston, had
held the position of mate on two Indian voyages under the well-known
Captain Nott, and had sailed with Captain Albert Brown, and received
his recommendation, yet this was not enough to qualify him for the
nautical ideas of a pompous South Carolinian.
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