For twenty-two days and nights is he chained to
that floor where his soul had before been tortured. Threats of being
returned to New Orleans again ring their leaden music in his ears;
but they have no terrors for him; his indignant spirit has battled
with torture and vanquished its smart--he will defend himself unto
death rather than be made the object of a sham sale. A vessel for
New Orleans waits in the harbour a fair wind for sailing. On board
of her Mr. Grabguy will carry out his resolve; and to which end the
reader will please accompany us to a small cell in Graspum's pen,
about fourteen by sixteen feet, and seven in height--in the centre
of which is chained to a ring that man, once so manly of figure,
whose features are now worn down by sorrow or distorted by
torture,--as three policemen enter to carry out the order of
shipment. The heavy chain and shackle with which his left foot is
secured yield to him a circuit of some four feet. As the officials
advance his face brightens up with animation; his spirit resumes its
fiery action, and with a flashing knife, no one knows by whom
provided, he bids them advance no further.
"You must go to the whipping-post, my good fellow! I know it's kind
of hard; but obey orders we must. Ye see, I've gin ye good advice,
time and agin; but ye won't take it, and so ye must abide the
consequences," says one of the officials, who advances before the
others, and addresses himself to the chained man.
"I'll go to a whipping-post no more!" exclaims Nicholas, his angry
spirit flashing in his face, as in an attitude of defence he presses
his right hand into his bosom, and frowns defiantly upon the
intruders.
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