At this moment one of
these infernal machines came in sight, towing down three large ships.
Instead of having them behind, as on the Thames and Mersey, she (like
the "Phoenix") had one on either side, closely lashed to herself, and
the other only behind. This terrific monster seemed to be carrying them
away arm-in-arm, like two prisoners, to destruction. At all events, it
was a position of familiarity and friendship with the "Sprite of Steam"
of which I did not at all like the idea; and yet we ourselves were
by-and-by to be placed in its perilous embrace!
The dreaded monster gone by, I resumed the perusal of my New Orleans
papers. Now (thought I) I am in a slave country! I wonder whether these
papers will give any indication of the fact. In a little while my eye,
surveying the _Bee_ of January 21, caught sight of an advertisement
signed "N. St. Martin, Sheriff, Parish of St. Charles," and containing
a list of 112 human beings offered for sale! The miserable catalogue
was full of instruction. In drawing it up the humane sheriff became
quite facetious, telling the public that "Frank, 35 years old, American
negro, [was] _good for everything_;" while "Stephen, 46 years old,
[was] _fit for nothing at all_;" that "Salinette, 60 years old,
hospital-nurse, [was] _a good subject, subject to rheumatisms_;" and
that "Peter, American negro-man, 38 years old, [was] _a good cook,
having had two fits of madness_.
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