"Vat 'e do, ah, you vant 'im? Vat you do vid 'im ven zu gets him, ah? Cette affaire delicate demande," said one of the number, who was honored with the title of mate, and who, with a terrific black moustache and beard, had the power of contorting his face into the most repugnant grimaces. And, at the moment, he drew his sheath-knife and made a pretended plunge at Dunn's breast, causing him to send forth a pitiful yell, and retreat to the wharf with quicker movements than he ever thought himself capable of.
"Il n'y a pas grand mal cela," said the Frenchman, laughing at Dunn as he stood upon the capsill of the wharf.
"Bad luck to ye, a pretty mess a murderous Frinchmin that ye are. Do yees be thinkin' ye'd play that trick in South Carolina? Ye'll get the like o' that taken out o' ye whin yer before his honor in the mornin'," said Dunn.
Dusenberry had stood parleying with the captain at the companion-door, endeavoring to make the latter understand that it was not a case which required the presence of the silver oar. There is a prevailing opinion among sailors, that no suit in Admiralty can be commenced, or seaman arrested while on board, without the presence of the silver oar. And thus acting upon this impression, the captain and officers of the Nouvelle Amelie contended for what they considered a right. The mate and crew drew closer and closer toward Dusenberry, until he became infected with the prevailing alarm. "Captain, I demand your protection from these men, in the name of the State of South Carolina," said he.
"Who he? De State Souf Ca'lina, vat I know 'bout him, ah? Bring de silver oar when come take my man. Il y a de la malhomme tet dans sou proces," said Captain Gilliet, turning to his mate.
"Avaunt! avaunt!" said the big man with the large whiskers, and they all made a rush at Dusenberry, and drove him over the rail and back to the wharf, where he demanded the assistance of those anxious spectators, for and in the name of the State. It was a right good vaudeville comique, played in dialogue and pantomime. The point of the piece, which, with a little arrangement, might have made an excellent production, consisted of a misunderstanding between an Irishman and a Frenchman about South Carolina, and a law so peculiar that no stranger could comprehend its meaning at first and as neither could understand the language of the other, the more they explained the more confounded the object became, until, from piquant comique, the scene was worked into the appearance of a tragedy. One represented his ship, and to him his ship was his nation; the other represented South Carolina, and to him South Carolina was the United States; and the question was, which had the best right to the little darkie.