drew from his pocket a quarter of a
Colombian doubloon, and throwing it upon the counter, told the Dutchman
to give him change. The Dutchman picked it up, turned it over several
times, and squinting at it, inquired, in a very unpretending manner,
what its value was. He knew already, yet this was only done to try
Manuel. At the same moment he winked to Dunn, who, stepping up, gave
it a significant toss upon the counter. "The divil a bit more than two
dollars; all right, Swizer," said he.

"'Tis four dollar, West Inge-I want my change," said Manuel, shrugging
his shoulders. "I no want no more than my own; and no man to cheat-e
me."

"Don't be bothering with your four dollars-sure ye a'n't in the West
Inges now; and money's plenty in Charleston, and I can't bring up so
much-half so much. Don't be bothering with yer West Inge nonsense. If
ye try to raise a fuss here, I'll make the Captain suffer. Ye must learn
that it won't do for a nigger to dispute a white man in Charleston; we'd
twitch ye up by the same law; we'd put it to our own niggers, and ye'd
git trised up, and about fifty paddles on yer bare butt." The Dutchman
put down a dollar and seventy cents, but Manuel refused to take it up;
when this fellow, Dunn, pretending to be the friend of Manuel, held out
his hand, and telling the bar-keeper to put another dollar, which he
did, he passed it hurriedly into Manuel's hand, and making a pass, told
him to put it into his pocket.

It was now about good business time for the Dutchman, and his customers
were coming in with their bottles and pots in great numbers. The place
was a little filthy hole, very black and dirty, about twelve feet long,
and seven feet wide, with a high board counter almost in the centre. The
only stock-in-trade that decorated it, was a few barrels of lager beer;
several kegs, with names to set forth the different qualities of liquors
painted upon them; a bushel basket about half full of onions, and a few
salt fish in a keg that stood by the door. Around the room were
several benches similar to those in guard-houses. Upon two of them were
stretched two ragged and filthy-looking negroes, who looked as if they
had been spending the night in debauchery. Dunn, as if to show his
authority, limped toward them, and commenced fledging their backs
with his hickory stick in a most unmerciful manner, until one poor old
fellow, with a lame hand, cried out for mercy at the top of his voice.

"It's a bad business