THE MONKEY AND THE CAT’S PAW.
NOTWITHSTANDING his own misfortunes, Somers could not help thinking of
his friend De Banyan, whom he regarded as an elder brother. They had
endured much suffering, and passed through many perils together, and the
bond of union between them was very strong. The riderless horse
indicated that he had been killed. The rebels had fired upon Somers
before they summoned him to surrender, and probably a shot aimed at De
Banyan had been more unfortunate. It was very sad for Somers to think of
his noble companion, shot down by an unseen foe; but he could hardly
cherish a hope that he was still alive. It would have been better for
him to fall in the front of battle, where he had so often distinguished
himself.
It was hard to give him up; yet all the probabilities were, that he had
been killed, and that his body lay unnoticed and unhonored on the spot
where he had fallen. Somers was a prisoner himself, and had been
plundered even of the most necessary articles of wearing apparel, and
subjected to needless insult and brutality. The condition of the Union
prisoners at Richmond, Andersonville, and Salisbury was too well known
to him to render the prospect before him even tolerable. But a
desponding spirit would only aggravate his miseries, and he determined
to submit to his fate with patient resignation. He felt that he was in
the keeping of the good Father, who doeth all things well; and in His
appointed time he would be rescued from peril and restored to his
friends; or, if it was the will of Heaven that he should lay down his
life in grief and misery for the cause he had chosen to serve, he would
try to be faithful and patient unto the bitter end.
The rebels conducted him through the woods to the creek, which they
forded, and continued on their way till they reached a grove, where it
now appeared that they had picketed their horses. It was also evident to
the unfortunate prisoner that his captors were not regular cavalrymen,
but guerillas, who hung on the flanks of the army to rob the wounded,
plunder the dead, capture stragglers worth the trouble, and gather up
the spoils of battle. When this was apparent to Somers, from the words
and the actions of the wretches, he felt that he had reason to be
thankful that they had not murdered him, as they probably had his
friend. His life had been spared, but this new revelation of the
character of his captors suggested a doubt whether death was not
preferable to captivity in the hands of such miscreants. At the grove
the men halted.
“Now, cap’n, off with them boots!” said Turkin, in savage tones.
Somers felt that he had not a moment’s lease of life secured to him, and
he promptly complied with the unreasonable demand of the guerilla.
“Who’s gwine to hev them boots?” suggested one of the gang.
“The man as they fits,” replied Turkin, who proceeded at once to try
them on.
“No, sir! I’ll be dog-on’d if anything of that sort shall be did!”
protested the other.
“Well, Gragg, what’s the use of them boots to you? You couldn’t put ’em
outside yer feet, more’n yer could crawl inter the barrel of yer
shooter.”
“May be I couldn’t; but them boots is wuth more to you than the hoss.
Draw lots fur ’em.”
The guerillas debated this question for some time, and with so much
acrimony that Somers ventured to hope they would resort to knives and
bullets in the adjustment of the quarrel, and thus afford him an
opportunity to profit by the discussion. But it was finally agreed to
value the property, and make an equal division of it. Turkin could not
get the boots on; whereat he was greatly enraged, and looked at Somers
as though he intended to annihilate him for not having a larger foot. A
young fellow of the party succeeded in getting them on, and they were
apportioned to him. It was pleasant to think that he was dooming himself
to a great deal of misery by his apparent good fortune; for, if he had
corns, the boots would be agony to him; if not, they would be tight
enough to raise a crop of the tormentors in a very brief period. If
through tribulation we are brought to the truth, it is to be hoped that
the sufferings of the young guerilla brought him to a belief that
“honesty is the best policy,” though this is not the highest rule of
morality.
Each of the marauders was supplied with a horse, and apparently to save
the trouble of leading him, rather than for the comfort of the prisoner,
Somers was ordered to ride the animal which had belonged to De Banyan.
The party were loaded with plunder, taken from the dead and wounded of
both armies, as Somers judged from the appearance of the articles. They
moved in the direction of the rebel camps, and in a short time they had
passed beyond the reach of danger from the Union army.
“Gragg, what we gwine to do with this feller?” said Turkin, as he
pointed to the prisoner. “We don’t want him.”
“Knock him on the head, and leave him here,” replied the benevolent
Gragg.
“I don’t keer,” added Turkin, as he rubbed his matted hair beneath his
hat, as if to stimulate a half developed idea which was struggling for
existence in his brain.
Somers did care: it would make considerable difference to him. He had
patiently submitted to the policy of his captors in order to save his
life; but upon the question of murdering him in cold blood, he felt that
he had something to say. If resorting to desperate measures would afford
the slightest hope of escape, he was ready to accept the issue. There
were seven of the guerillas, and resistance was almost hopeless, yet not
entirely so, for there was a single favorable circumstance to aid him.
As the prisoner rode along between Turkin and Gragg, he happened to
discover that the holsters of De Banyan’s horse still contained the
pistols of his friend. They were two navy revolvers, which the guerillas
had neglected to secure. With these formidable weapons Somers believed
that he could make a tolerably good fight, though such a course would be
madness on his part, unless he was reduced to the most desperate
extremity, when death was certain if he did not resort to it.
“We don’t want ter be bothered with this carri’n,” continued the
philanthropic Gragg.
“I was thinkin’,” said Turkin.
“Was yer?” demanded Gragg, as the thinker did not develop the result of
his meditations. “What was yer thinkin’?”
“Yer know what happened yesterday?”
Gragg did know, and as it appeared from their conversation, Colonel
Grayhame, of the Confederate cavalry, had threatened to hang the whole
of the gang for some irregular proceedings among the rebel wounded.
“The kun’l’s down on us, Gragg,” added the politic Turkin.
“I don’t keer.”
“He’ll spile our prospects. We kin make him good natered by givin’ him a
young scrub of a Yankee officer like this.”
“I don’t keer.”
“It won’t cost nothin’. We don’t want the young cub; and he’ll think
we’re doin’ sunthin’ for the cause.”
“He’ll make yer give up the boots and the coat,” suggested the prudent
Gragg.
“You bet he won’t!” replied Turkin, positively. “The feller is a staff
officer, belongin’ to one of the big Yankee gin’rals; and the kun’l will
be glad to git him.”
“But the coat and the boots, the watch and the money? The kun’l’s
foolish about sech things. He don’t take ’em from the Yanks.”
It was finally decided to say that the prisoner had been robbed of these
articles before they captured him, and to deliver the captive to the
colonel, as a conciliatory offering. Somers was much relieved when this
decision was readied, for it was some satisfaction to be handed over to
an officer who was a gentleman, and had some regard for the comfort of
his prisoners.
When the guerillas arrived at the spot where the camp of Colonel
Grayhame had been on the previous day, their plans were entirely changed
by learning that the cavalry under his command had been ordered away to
look after the Union force, sent down to destroy the West Point
Railroad; not that this information affected their purposes, but because
it suggested a field for the better prosecution of their irregular work.
Somers heard them discuss the matter; and he found that they believed
the Union cavalry would burn and plunder public and private property,
without discrimination, wherever they went. Their presence would create
a panic; houses would be abandoned, citizens killed, and the spoils
would be plentiful. When Turkin suggested that the party should follow
the colonel, and gather up the plunder, his companions readily assented.
Somers did not learn what was to be done with himself, but he concluded
that he was to go with them. Though it was now dark, the guerillas
immediately started for the new field of operations, and the prisoner
was placed between Gragg and Turkin, as before. These worthies were less
communicative during the evening than they had been immediately after
his capture, and Somers listened in vain for any hint in regard to the
disposition which they intended to make of him.
They rode till about nine o’clock, when Gragg suggested that they were
human, and ought to have some supper. They were approaching the mansion
of a planter, and as they owed allegiance to neither side in the great
conflict, it mattered but little to them who or what the owner was.
Their sympathies were undoubtedly with the South, but their love of
plunder was stronger than their sympathies.
“Git off the hoss, cap’n,” said Turkin, as the party halted in the yard
of the house.
Somers obeyed. In the darkness of the evening he had contrived to remove
one of the revolvers from its holster, and place it under his vest; for
he did not know that he should again be permitted to mount the horse. He
had also transferred from a leather bag on the pommel of the saddle, two
or three at a time, a sufficient number of patent cartridges and caps.
He was not without a hope that the present halt would afford him an
opportunity to attempt an escape.
“Lead your horse to the stable,” added Turkin.
He put the horse in the stable with the others; but he was closely
watched all the time. While he was thus engaged, he saw Gragg and Turkin
in close conversation; and, though Somers could not hear what was said,
he was satisfied that they were talking about him.
“Cap’n,” said Turkin, as the prisoner came out of the stall.
“I’m here,” replied Somers.
“Will you be shot afore supper, or arter?”
“Neither.”
“That’s jest what I expected you mought say, because it stands to reason
no man don’t want to be shot.”
“Just my sentiments; I don’t want to be shot.”
“Jes so; and yer ought to be much obleeged ter me fur not shoot’n yer
before.”
“I am very grateful to you for your consideration.”
“Exac’ly; you ain’t no more use to us than a knife and fork to a cow.”
“I don’t do you any harm.”
“That may be; but yer don’t do no good. Cap’n, will yer be shot afore
supper, or arter?” repeated Turkin.
“I have already expressed my views on that subject.”
“Yes or no?”
“No.”
“Cap’n, you kin read, I take it.”
“I can.”
“D’yer ever read the story about the monkey that took the cat’s paw to
haul the chestnuts out the fire with?”
“I have.”
“I knew yer hed; yer Yanks is great readers. Do yer know what the moril
is to that story?”
“I think I do.”
“I knew yer did; yer Yanks is great on morils. I’m gwine ter tell yer
the moril of that story. Did yer say you’d be shot afore supper, or
arter?”
“Neither, if it will accommodate you just as well,” replied Somers,
greatly perplexed to know what the fellow was going to do.
“Never mind, then; we’ll talk about the moril. It ain’t jest the thing
fur us to go inter this house, and make ’em get supper fur us, because
we ain’t exac’ly reg’lar. We wan’t the supper, and we may want sunthin’
more, arter that. We don’t want to be seen in the business. Now, we are
the monkey, and you are the cat’s paw—don’t yer see?”
“I don’t quite understand you.”
“You shall go in, order the supper, and do the talkin’ for us. When they
git supper ready, we’ll go in and eat it, without any of the folks
seein’ on us. Yer’ll be cap’n, and do the talkin’ for us—don’t yer see?”
“I see.”
“And keep the folks from seein’ us too—don’t yer see?”
“I see.”
“Now, cap’n, will yer be shot afore supper, or arter?” demanded Turkin.
“Neither,” replied Somers, thereby consenting to the plan proposed by
the guerilla.
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