He returned in a moment with the name of "John Somers," filled in the blank space left for that purpose, and handed it to his guest.
Somers shuddered when he saw his name written upon such an infernal document; for though he was still true to God, his country, and himself, the paper had an ugly look. But he regarded it only as evidence against the conspirators, rather than against himself; as a necessary formality to enable him to frustrate the designs of traitors, rather than as a blot against his own name.
"Mr. Somers, I congratulate you. If you could be induced to join me in a glass of this old sherry, we would drink to the success of the Louisiana—for that is to be the name of your craft when you get to sea."
"I thank you, Mr. Wynkoop; you must excuse me."
"As you please. Mr. Somers, though I am an Englishman, and belong to the royal navy, it is hardly necessary for me to say now, that I am in the service of the South. I go with you in the Louisiana, as a passenger. Your first work will be to capture one of the California steamers, which I am to transform into a man-of-war, and call the Texas. She will be under my command."
"I am satisfied."
"By the way, Captain Somers," added Wynkoop, as he took a paper from his pocket, "here is the oath of allegiance to the Confederate States of America, which it will be necessary for you to sign."
This was more than Somers had bargained for, and he would have cut off his right hand, or permitted his head to be severed from his body, rather than put his signature to the detested paper. A cold chill crept through his veins, as he glanced at the sheet on which it was printed, and he was afraid all he had done would fail because he could not do this thing.
Lieutenant Wynkoop brought a pen and ink from his sleeping apartment, and placed it by the side of his guest.
"I would rather not sign this just now," said Somers. "It might get me into trouble."