“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.”