SUPPER FOR SEVEN.
WHATEVER the merits of the plan in which Somers was compelled to take a
part, he did not relish the idea of being made a cat’s paw in the hands
of such unmitigated villains as the guerillas. It involved no sacrifice
of principle, and did not require him to give “aid and comfort to the
enemy;” otherwise he would have taken his chances in an encounter with
the whole squad. It was one portion of the enemy feeding on another
portion; and if the planter, who was himself a rebel, objected to the
forced contribution, he had only to thank himself for the state of
things he had assisted in bringing about.
“I am ready,” said Somers, when Turkin had fully explained his plan.
“We’re all half starved, and I cal’late we’re ready too.”
“But do you think I shall look much like an officer, when I go in
without any coat or boots?”
“May be we mought lend you a coat,” replied Turkin, struck with the
force of the suggestion.
By his order, Somers’s coat was restored to him, with the remark that he
would not want it after supper; which led him to believe that he was to
be shot when the wretches had no further use for him.
“An officer usually wears a sword,” added Somers, “and a pair of boots.”
“Ger ’long!” said Gragg.
“Do you think an officer would be without boots, when all his men are so
well shod? I think I should be a cat’s paw without any claws.”
“Give him his boots; he won’t want ’em arter supper,” replied Turkin;
and the young man who had these useful articles was compelled to pull
them off, which he did with a great deal of difficulty.
Somers put them on, and began to feel like himself again.
“See here, cap’n; couldn’t you send the folks all out the house for a
while, when we are at supper?”
“Perhaps I could; but I fancy they will think I am a humbug, when I go
in without a sword.”
“Give him his sword,” said Turkin. “Now, kin yer send the folks
off?—play ’em some Yankee trick?—don’t yer see?”
“Perhaps I could; I’ll try.”
“Ef yer do well, we’ll give yer supper afore—”
“You git!” said Gragg, expressively.
“I’ll do the best I can,” replied Somers, confirmed in his opinion that
the savages meant to kill him, by the interrupted remark of Turkin, and
the expressive tones of Gragg.
“Kin yer write, Yank?” asked Turkin.
“I can.”
“I knew yer could; yer Yanks is great at writin’. Write ’em a note,
sayin’ somebody wants ter see ’em down to the next house.”
“Capital!” exclaimed Somers. “I should think you were a Yankee
yourself.”
“Don’t call me a Yank.”
“I only meant that you can beat the Yankees at playing tricks.”
“I’m some.”
All the servants outside the house had been captured, and kept in the
darkness, where they could not recognize any of the guerillas. They had
already been questioned, and enough was known of the family to enable
Somers to write a note; but they had no paper.
“I can manage it,” said Somers, suddenly, as though a splendid
suggestion had occurred to him. “If I take from my Testament one of
those pictures, and tell them the person represented wishes to see them,
they will go. If they don’t recognize the picture, they will be the more
curious to know who it is.”
“May be they will,” replied Turkin, doubtfully.
But it appeared from the story of the negroes that a son of the
gentleman in the next house had married a daughter of the planter; that
both were at Savannah; and it was finally agreed that the spokesman of
the party should say the daughter had suddenly arrived, was quite ill,
and wished all the family would come down and see her.
“But I want one of those pictures to write the message on,” added
Somers.
“I’ll give yer one.”
“And I want to take it from the Testament. It will look more natural.”
The guerillas thought so too, and by the light of the lantern which one
of the negroes brought, he wrote in pencil, “_These villains mean to rob
your house after supper; get a force and capture them._”
“He’s great at writin’—ain’t he?” said the admiring Turkin.
“Will you look at it?” asked Somers, innocently.
Turkin took the card, and looked at it steadily by the light of the
lantern for a moment, and then handed it back to the writer.
“That will do, you bet,” added Turkin. “We’re great on a trick—ain’t
we?”
“There’s nothing like a well-managed trick,” answered Somers, as he
placed the card in the Testament, which had been given him for the
purpose. “You are sharp fellows, and this thing will work to a charm.”
“I cal’late it will; but ger ’long; we want our supper. After that we’ll
show you a trick wuth two of that.”
They walked to the side door of the house, which was some distance from
the stable, so that the arrival of the guerillas had not been noticed by
the people within. The villains seemed to have a very wholesome dread of
Colonel Grayhame, for they often alluded to him in connection with the
present operation; and they had already discovered that his main force
was not far in advance of them, while detachments of his regiment were
guarding the railroad, not half a mile from the house.
“See here, Yank; I don’t know as we kin trust yer,” said Turkin, who had
accompanied him to the door, leaving his companions in an arbor, within
hail of the mansion.
“I don’t care whether you do or not,” answered Somers. “This isn’t my
job; it is yours.”
“I’ll go in with yer, with my face kivered up, and if yer don’t talk
right up, I shan’t ask yer whether yer’ll be shot afore supper or
arter.”
“I’ll do just what you tell me to do.”
“Ger ’long, then.”
Somers knocked at the door, which seemed to displease his rude
companion, who wished him to walk in without any ceremony; but the
“cat’s paw” explained that a certain degree of courtesy would help the
enterprise, and the guerilla assented, though with an ill grace. The
door was opened by a sleek, black servant.
“Is Colonel Roman within?” asked Somers, using the name of the planter
which had been given him by Turkin.
“Yes, sar.”
“I wish to see him.”
“Walk in, sar.”
Somers was conducted to an elegant library, where the planter and his
family were seated. He was closely followed by Turkin, who had tied a
red silk handkerchief over his face, so that his ugly physiognomy was
entirely concealed from the inmates of the room. The planter rose from
his chair, and bowed with stately courtesy to his unexpected visitors.
“I beg your pardon for disturbing you, Colonel Roman,” said Somers.
“Whom have I the honor of addressing?” demanded the planter, rather
coldly.
“Captain Somers, of the army, at your service, sir.”
“You seem to wear the uniform of the Yankees.”
“That’s inter yer,” whispered Turkin, who stood close by his spokesman.
“I was so fortunate as to obtain this uniform from a Yankee officer whom
I captured,” replied Somers, with promptness.
“There yer hev him,” added Turkin.
“That explains it, though some officers prefer to go in rags rather than
wear the colors of the Yankees, especially when obtained in that
manner.”
“I have only to say, sir, that the Yankee from whom I got them had no
further use for his clothes,” added Somers, pleased to find that the
chivalry did not justify the system which prevailed of robbing prisoners
of their clothing.
“May I ask your business with me, sir?”
“I have a small squad of seven men with me. We have had no supper, and
we wish to trespass so far on your hospitality as to obtain one in your
house.”
“Eight of you?” asked the planter. “You shall be supplied at once.”
“We are in great haste.”
“All possible expedition shall be used in preparing the meal,” answered
the planter, as he ordered his servant to give the proper directions to
the cook and others. “Do you belong to Colonel Grayhame’s force?”
“Tell him yer do,” whispered Turkin.
“We do, sir. We stopped at the next house below, to get some supper, for
we are almost starved; but they had just received some friends from
Savannah, and could not provide for us.”
“From Savannah?” said the planter, with evident surprise; and
immediately the ladies present suspended their sewing, and looked at the
young officer.
“Yer smart, Yank!” muttered Turkin, who appeared to enjoy the situation
amazingly.
“I think they said from Savannah,” replied Somers. “They recommended us
to come here, assuring us that you never turned a hungry soldier from
your door. They gave me a card, requesting me to deliver it to you.”
Somers handed the planter the photograph, on the back of which was
written the appalling statement of the character of the guerillas. It
was a fearful moment to him, for the alarm of the planter might betray
him to the bloodthirsty villain who stood at his side. Though the silk
handkerchief over the face of Turkin impaired his vision, it did not
entirely obstruct it.
Colonel Roman read the words on the card; he was startled by them, and
glanced at the bearer of the message. Somers contracted his brow, shook
his head slightly in the direction of Turkin, and assumed a deprecatory
expression, which the planter seemed to understand.
“The persons at the next house wish to see you as soon as possible,”
added Somers.
“We will go at once,” replied Colonel Roman, “if you will excuse my
absence.”
“Certainly, sir,” answered Somers, now fully assured that he was
understood.
“What is it, father?” asked one of the daughters, puzzled by the remarks
which had been made in her presence.
“Your sister Lucretia has arrived from Savannah; she is ill, and we will
go down and see her immediately,” replied the planter.
The wife and both of the daughters expressed their surprise; but the
colonel directed them to get ready as speedily as possible, and they
left the room for this purpose.
“I am sorry to leave you, captain,” continued the planter; “but I will
endeavor to return as soon as you have finished your supper. Pray make
yourselves entirely at home. Why don’t your men come into the house. My
doors are always open to the defenders of my country.”
“Thank you, Colonel Roman. I will take them into the dining-room at
once.”
“Do so,” said the planter, as he left the room.
“You’re smart, Yank!” exclaimed Turkin.
“I have only done what you told me to do. If there is any credit about
the affair, it belongs to you,” replied Somers, in a deprecatory tone.
“That’s so, Yank; but yer kerried it through right smart, and yer shall
hev some supper afore—”
“You are shot,” the ruffian would have said, if not prevented by
prudential motives.
The planter and his family left the house by the front door; and it is
probable that they used all possible haste to escape from the presence
of the guerillas, whose character they now understood. In the mean time,
Turkin amused himself by opening the various drawers in the planter’s
secretary, and prying into every hole and corner which might be supposed
to contain any valuables.
In half an hour, supper was announced, and Turkin went to the
dining-room. The servants were sent off, and ordered not to show
themselves again. The guerillas then sat down to supper, making Somers
stand before the door leading into the hall, to notify them of the
approach of any person. They ate and drank, but they did not hear the
sounds of horses’ hoofs in the yard, just as they finished their meal.
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