urbs, run the
gauntlet of the police, and get a bottle of whiskey, When interrogated,
they are always "going for a bottle of molasses." They keep a keen watch
for the police, and their cunning modes of eluding their vigilance forms
many amusing anecdotes. They are bound to have a pass from master, or
some white man; but if they can reach the shop in safety, the Dutchman
will always furnish them with one to return. It not unfrequently happens
that the guard-men are much more ignorant than the slaves. The latter
knowing this, will endeavor to find their station and approach by it,
taking with them either an old pass or a forged one, which the
guard-man makes a wonderful piece of importance about examining and
countersigning, though he can neither read nor write. Thus Sambo passes
on to get his molasses, laughing in his sleeve to think how he "fool
ignorant buckra." A change of guard often forms a trap for Sambo, when
he is lugged to the guard-house, kept all night, his master informed in
the morning, and requested to step up and pay a fine, or Sambo's
back catches thirty-nine, thus noting a depression of value upon the
property. Sometimes his master pays the municipal fine, and administers
a domestic castigation less lacerating bound into the city on the usual
errand of procuring a little of molasses. When he first discovered
Tommy, he started back a few paces, as if in fear; but on being told by
Tommy that he was lost, and wanted to find his way to the wharves, he
approached and recovering, confidence readily, volunteered to see him to
the corner of Broad street. So, taking him by the hand, they proceeded
together until they reached the termination of the Causeway, and were
about to enter Tradd street, when suddenly a guard-man sprang from
behind an old shed. The negro, recognising his white belt and tap-stick,
made the best of his time, and set off at full speed down a narrow lane.
The watchman proceeded close at his heels, springing his rattle at every
step, and pouring out a volley of vile imprecations. Tommy stood for a
few moments, but soon the cries of the negro and the beating of clubs
broke upon his ear; he became terrified, and ran at the top of his speed
in an opposite direction. Again he had lost his way, and seemed in a
worse dilemma than before; he was weary and frightened, and hearing so
many stories among the sailors about selling white children for slaves,
and knowing the imprisonment of Manuel, which he di