by Mayne Reid
CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT.
THE GAME INTERRUPTED.
We played the first two or three games for low stakes--a dollar each.This was agreeable to the desire of Hatcher and the pork-merchant--whodid not like to risk much as they had nearly forgotten the game. Both,however, made "hedge bets" freely against my partner, Chorley, andagainst any one who chose to take them up. These bets were on theturn-up, the colour, the "honours," or the "odd trick."
My partner and I won the two first games, and rapidly. I noted severalinstances of bad play on the part of our opponent. I began to believethat they really were not a match for us. Chorley said so with an airof triumph, as though we were playing merely for the honour of thething, and the stakes were of no consequence. After a while, as we wonanother game, he repeated the boast.
The pork-dealer and his partner seemed to get a little nettled.
"It's the cards," said the latter, with an air of pique.
"Of coorse it's the cards," repeated white-hat. "Had nothing but darnedrubbish since the game begun. Thar again!"
"Bad cards again?" inquired his partner with a sombre countenance.
"Bad as blazes! couldn't win corn-shucks with 'em."
"Come, gentlemen!" cried my partner, Chorley; "not exactly fair that--nohints."
"Bah!" ejaculated the dealer. "Mout show you my hand, for that matter.Thar ain't a trick in it."
We won again!
Our adversaries, getting still more nettled at our success, now proposeddoubling the stakes. This was agreed to, and another game played.
Again Chorley and I were winners, and the pork-man asked his partner ifhe would double again. The latter consented after a little hesitation,as though he thought the amount too high. Of course we, the winners,could not object, and once more we "swept the shin-plasters," as Chorleyeuphoniously expressed it.
The stakes were again doubled, and possibly would have increased in thesame ratio again and again had I not made a positive objection. Iremembered the amount of cash I carried in my pocket, and knew that atsuch a rate, should fortune go against us, my purse would not hold out.I consented, however, to a stake of ten dollars each, and at this amountwe continued the play.
It was well we had not gone higher, for from this time fortune seemed todesert us. We lost almost every time, and at the rate of ten dollars agame. I felt my purse grow sensibly lighter. I was in a fair way ofbeing "cleared out."
My partner, hitherto so cool, seemed to lose patience, at intervalsanathematising the cards, and wishing he had never consented to a gameof "nasty whist." Whether it was this excitement that caused it I couldnot tell, but certainly he played badly--much worse than at thebeginning. Several times he flung down his cards without thought orcaution. It seemed as if his temper, ruffled at our repeated losses,rendered him careless, and even reckless, about the result. I was themore surprised at this, as but an hour before at Euchre I had seen himlose sums of double the amount apparently with the utmost indifference.
We had not bad luck neither. Each hand our cards were good; and severaltimes I felt certain we should have won, had my partner played his handmore skilfully. As it was, we continued to lose, until I felt satisfiedthat nearly half of my money was in the pockets of Hatcher and thepork-dealer.
No doubt the whole of it would soon have found its way into the samereceptacles, had not our game been suddenly, and somewhat mysteriously,interrupted.
Some loud words were heard--apparently from the lower deck--followed bya double report, as of two pistols discharged in rapid succession, andthe moment after a voice called out, "Great God! there's a man shot!"
The cards fell from our fingers--each seized his share of the stakes,springing to his feet as he did so; and then players, backers,lookers-on, and all, making for front and side entrances, rushed_pell-mell_ out of the saloon.
Some ran down stairs--some sprang up to the hurricane-deck--some tookaft, others forward, all crying out "Who is it?" "Where is he?" "Whofired?" "Is he killed?" and a dozen like interrogatories, interruptedat intervals by the screams of the ladies in their cabins. The alarm ofthe "woman overboard" was nothing to this new scene of excitement andconfusion. But what was most mysterious was the fact that no killed orwounded individual could be found, nor any one who had either fired apistol or had seen one fired! no man had been shot, nor had any man shothim!
What the deuce could it mean? Who had cried out that some one was shot?That no one could tell! Mystery, indeed. Lights were carried roundinto all the dark corners of the boat, but neither dead nor wounded, nortrace of blood, could be discovered; and at length men broke out inlaughter, and stated their belief that the "hul thing was a hoax." Sodeclared the dealer in hog-meat, who seemed rather gratified that he nolonger stood alone as a contriver of false alarms.