Part 6

“The flush man stayed, and the next two dropped out. Then Overland Jack saw the hundred and raised it a hundred, still without looking at his cards.

“The opener skinned through his hand to make sure that he still had all his deuces, and then said with paternal severity: ‘Young man, I’m sorry for you, but you certainly ought to be taught something of the rudiments of this game. If you are determined to bet, I’ll give you a chance. I’ll see your hundred and raise you two hundred and fifty.’

“It was too rich for the man with a flush, and he threw down his cards. Then it was Overland Jack’s turn. He pretended to be greatly provoked, and said hotly: ‘I may be a younger man than you are, sir, but where I came from we call two queens, with a chance for two more, good for a small bet, anyhow. So I’ll just cover your two-fifty and bet you the balance of the pile.’ And he shoved the whole of Morton’s money to the center of the table, still without counting it.

“The others were astounded, but he had made the play and there was only the opener to talk. He counted the money. It was eleven hundred and odd dollars. Then he counted his own. He had only five hundred with him, and he began to sputter.

“‘If you’ll take a check,’ he began, but Overland Jack stopped him.

“‘No checks,’ he said excitedly. ‘This is table stakes.’

“‘Well, if you’ll wait till I go downstairs and----’

“‘Oh, yes,’ sneered Overland Jack. ‘Go out of the room and gather up four of a kind, I suppose.’

“And there was more talk that resulted in the opener getting angry for fair and calling the bet for the amount of his pile. He slammed down his four deuces as he did so and exclaimed: ‘There! Is that good, or do you think you have drawn the other two queens?’

“‘Well, I don’t know,’ drawled Overland Jack. ‘Maybe I have. Let’s see,’ and he turned over two queens and an ace.

“Everybody else in the room saw the point, but the opener was furious. ‘They’re not good,’ he shouted. ‘You never got that hand honestly.’

“‘Oh, yes, they’re good,’ said Overland Jack, with still more of a drawl. ‘Four of a kind is good--when you get ’em out of the pack.’

“There was a shout of laughter as the opener grew purple with rage, and Overland Jack raked in the pot.

“That was only one of his adventures in this city. He had a number, and naturally made a good many enemies, but, as in this case, he made more friends than foes, so that he was really a popular man despite the fact that he was known to be a sharper.

“Crooked poker and brace faro were his favorite games, but he was also a billiard sharp, who gave pointers as well as points to the many others of that ilk who made a living around the billiard saloons in those days. One of the first places where he distinguished himself was in Chris Conner’s place in Fourteenth Street, where there were always gentlemen of leisure ready to play almost anybody for a small bet or a large one, provided they could settle the odds. Overland Jack always had confederates in the room ready to make side bets while he was playing, and he was pretty sure to get one or two himself in addition to the nominal stakes of the game. There was one young fellow who played in Conner’s place a great deal who really played a marvelous game, and was as steady as a rock. Conner thought he couldn’t be beaten if the odds were fixed anywhere near right, so Overland Jack studied his play for a couple of nights and then sailed in himself.

“He acted the usual part of a fairly skilful amateur excited with the game and anxious to display his skill and win or lose his money, and managed, without trouble, to get himself picked up as a sucker by this particular fellow. Conner himself settled the odds after seeing the stranger play, and bet considerable money himself on the outside, but Overland Jack won, hands down.

“In fact, he won at everything he touched while he was here, but as a matter of course he soon became known, as a first-class crook is sure to, and he was obliged after a while to seek new pastures. So it came that the man who came and had fun with the New York sports for a season drifted away again without exciting any regrets by his departure.”

His Last Sunday Game

_HE WAS BETTING ON A JACK-POT WHEN THE YACHT UPSET_

“The closest call I ever had,” said the gray-haired young-looking man, “was in a game of poker, and, curiously enough, nobody called in that particular deal in which it occurred. In fact, nobody thought about it after the interruption until it was too late for a showdown and the chips had all disappeared, nobody knew where. It takes a pretty serious happening to destroy all interest in a game of poker just at the moment when somebody has raised the limit in a big jack-pot and each player is confident of winning. But this was a serious happening. It was about the most serious that I ever knew, and came near being a tragedy.

“Perhaps you remember one summer about ten years ago when a succession of tremendous squalls struck the south side of Long Island on four successive Sundays. I think it was just ten years ago.

“We had a club-house, eight or ten of us, that summer, which was located on Hicks’s Beach, on the extreme western end of the Great South Bay, not far from the Long Beach Hotel. It was about as unpretentious as any club-house need be, being only a shanty, but it was weather-proof, and with cots and hammocks we made ourselves thoroughly comfortable when we slept ashore. More often we would sleep on board the little sloop yacht that we had chartered for the summer, for we used to cruise through the entire day, using the club-house as a rendezvous. It was one of the jolliest and most economical seasons I ever enjoyed.

“We all knew something about sailing--I least of all--but the Commodore, as we all called him, was the best amateur sailor I ever knew, so, naturally, we made him skipper, and nobody else assumed or felt any responsibility when he was aboard.

“On this particular Sunday, the fourth in the series of squally Sundays, there were seven of us on the yacht. We had been weakfishing all the forenoon about four miles east of Wreck Lead, and had had fair luck, but it was wretchedly hot, and, tiring of the sport, we had run back nearly to Hicks’s Beach again and come to anchor off the best bathing-ground in the neighborhood, opposite the life-saving station. Then we had a plunge, and after dressing had gone into the cabin. Two of the men had gone to sleep and the rest of us had begun a game of poker. It was the last game I ever played on Sunday. The Commodore had made all snug above, and had come down into the cabin last of all, satisfied that everything was right, as we were not in the channel, and no big boats navigate thereabout anyhow. He was good enough sailor, however, to leave the game occasionally for a moment or two, just to take a look around. But not even he thought it worth while to keep a lookout all the time, for he thought we were as safe as we would have been in a brick house.

“After an hour or so there came a jack-pot, in which there was some of the most remarkable drawing I ever saw. The Broker had opened it on a pair of queens. The Commodore sat next, and, having a pair of sevens, came in. The Doctor had three spades with a queen at the head, and, being a brash player at all times, pushed in his chips. I had been having great luck for a time, and decided to rely on it, so I came in with an ace. And the Lawyer came also, though he had only two little four-spots in his hand. We found out all this long afterward when we were together one night talking over the adventure, and at the same time we learned what the draw was. It seemed so curious to me that I wrote it down, so I speak by the card in telling it. The Doctor was dealing, so I drew the first cards. They were another ace and three eight spots. The Lawyer caught another four and two tens. The Broker got three jacks. The Commodore caught a seven and two nines, and the Doctor got his two coveted spades. A pair of queens was high hand before the draw, and there were four fulls and a flush around the board after it. Such a thing may have happened often, but I never happened to hear of it as happening on any other occasion but this.

“Naturally enough, the betting began furiously, and the chips on the table were all in the pot presently. We were betting money and were, some of us, feeling through our pockets for our rolls, when suddenly the Commodore threw back his head and raised his hand with a sudden gesture that arrested our attention instantly. Dropping his cards, he sprang to his feet and started to rush out on deck, when a lurch of the vessel sent us all sprawling. The squall had struck us. For a moment, while we were scrambling up, we could feel the yacht tugging at her anchor, and then with a sudden drive dash onward somewhere. Whither we could not even guess, being all below, but we afterward found that it was toward the northeast, the squall coming from the south-west. Almost at the moment of the snapping of the cable, for it had snapped, we heard a tremendous crash overhead, and we afterward learned that the lurch of the boat had thrown her stick out of her.

“The sudden drive meant that we were drifting helplessly toward the mud flats on the other side of the channel; but before we could ascertain this--in fact, before any of us could get to the companion-way--the wretched boat turned turtle. I have heard it denied that such a boat could turn turtle under such circumstances, and I don’t pretend to explain how or why it did. All I know is that it did, and it looked as if we had reached our last quarter of an hour.

“The confusion was indescribable. Of course we were immediately standing or scrambling on the ceiling of the little cabin, while everything that had been on the floor fell with us. The water rushed in more than waist deep, and for a few moments it looked as if the little room would fill up completely before we could even think what possibility there was of getting out. Fortunately, however, there was buoyancy enough about the miserable craft, and the cabin was deep enough in the hull, to keep it pretty near the water level, and the air in the room was not immediately displaced. At least that was how I reasoned it out. All that I can say positively is that whereas I expected to be totally submerged I found that I could easily enough keep my head out of water. What air there was in the cabin doubtless helped to keep us afloat, confined as it was, and for a time--it seemed a very long time--we were tossed about, splashed, and thrown down, as the boat rocked and pitched, but we were not drowned.

“At first no one spoke. The situation was too awful for words, and it seemed as if we were all so shocked as to be mentally stunned. I know I was for one, and if our escape had depended on my thinking of a means we would all have perished then and there. Fortunately the Commodore grasped the situation, and, as we could talk and understand one another well enough, he told us his plan in a few words. It was simple, and it gave us at least a chance for life. Moreover, it appeared to be our only chance.

“‘You can all swim,’ he said. ‘Find a fishing-line. There are plenty in the cabin.’

“Somebody produced one in a moment. It was on a reel.

“‘Hold fast to the reel,’ said the Commodore. ‘I’ll take one end of the line and dive through the companion-way. I think I can find my way over the side and up on the bottom of the boat. I’ll hold my end, and when you feel three jerks make this end fast. Then you will have to follow, one at a time. Don’t let go of the line as you go out, and you can’t miss the way. I’ll hold the other end.’

“‘Very good, Commodore,’ said the Broker, ‘but I’d better go first. You know what a swimmer I am, and I reckon the man who goes first will have the hardest job.’

“The Commodore was disposed to dispute this proposition, but the Lawyer spoke up sharply: ‘Let him go, Commodore,’ he said. ‘It’s a forlorn hope at best, and he’s far and away the best swimmer.’ So it was settled, and in another moment the Broker had disappeared.

“Well, that’s all the story. The plan worked and we were all perched on the keel inside of ten minutes. There we were seen by the life-saving patrol, and were all taken off safely soon after. I can’t say I ever enjoyed yachting after that day, and, as I said, I never played poker on Sunday again.”

Foss Stopped the Game

_ONE OF THE DUTIES OF AN OLD-TIME MISSISSIPPI RIVER PACKET CAPTAIN_

“I have always been a little hazy in my notion of what are the proper functions of the Captain of a Mississippi River steamboat,” said the gray-haired young-looking man. “I suppose, really, that nothing would have been easier than for me to find out, for I traveled a great deal on the river some years ago, and I knew a lot of people who were engaged in steamboating as a business, besides enjoying a personal acquaintance with several of the Captains themselves. But there are some things that I do not like to know definitely, and this is one of them. It is more interesting to speculate about them in idle moments and to think of all sorts of whimsicalities as possible than to get at the facts, which would not be interesting at all.

“Now, on the lakes, and on such salt-water craft as I have traveled on, the Captain of the boat is very much in evidence. He has all to say about everything, and seems to be a sort of court of appeals for the trial and final disposition of all cases, trivial or important. He seems to have a personal supervision over every detail of his business, and to have very little real leisure. It may be, of course, that the Captain of a Mississippi boat has similar duties and responsibilities, but it doesn’t seem so to the average passenger.

“In the first place, he seems to have nothing to say about the navigation of his boat. The pilot attends to that, apparently, all the time. Then the Captain has little to say to the crew. The mate bosses the deckhands and the roustabouts, and the engineer has control of his own department. I suppose the Captain gives them both orders, though I never saw or heard him do it. I have heard him order the waiters about in the dining-room, but it seems ridiculous to class that among his duties. Altogether, to one who doesn’t understand the matter, the Captain’s office seems suited to comic opera rather than to navigation, and, as I intimated, I enjoy comic opera too much to want to understand this.

“There is one thing about the position, however, which is no joke. The Captain has arbitrary police power over everybody on board his boat, unless, indeed, the pilot is exempt. I don’t know about that. So well is this fact understood that I never saw this authority disputed but once, and on that occasion it was not well for the man who did the disputing.

“Captain Foss of the river packet Lone Star, plying between St. Louis and New Orleans some twenty years ago, was one of the finest men I ever chanced to know on the river. That he was a Southerner no one could doubt who saw him and heard him talk, but I never knew what State he came from. He was a man of middle stature and remarkable physical development, strong as a horse and active as a cat. I think he had been in the army, for he had a military bearing, but his title of Captain came, of course, from his position. He was somewhat of a dandy, and dressed in what was old style even then, but the exquisite neatness and fine material of his clothing made him conspicuous even among the wealthy and well-dressed passengers who patronized his boat from choice whenever they traveled the river.

“Suave, polished, and extremely quiet in his manners on ordinary occasion, he could blaze out in the most fiery bursts of temper when he had provocation. I never saw him in a temper but twice, and curiously enough the trouble grew out of a game of poker each time.

“Poker was always played in the main saloon of the boat at night, as a matter of course, and I have seen some stiff games played on the Lone Star, for I made several trips on her. I didn’t hesitate to play there myself, even with strangers, for I knew the reputation of the boat and of the Captain, who played himself occasionally, though not very often. He was called one of the best players on the river, and was known to be thoroughly upright and believed to be utterly devoid of fear. He knew all the gamblers who traveled the river, and would not allow any crooked play in his jurisdiction. It was reported that they all knew this and had a wholesome respect for his authority, knowing that he made it a rule to set a man ashore in the wilderness if he was detected in any underhand work. He had done this several times, and it was generally believed that there wasn’t a gambler in the country who would play any tricks on Captain Foss’s boat.

“One night, an hour or two after we had left Memphis on the way down the river, the Captain sauntered into the saloon looking as if he hadn’t a care or a responsibility of any kind, and, seeing a game of cards going on, he walked up to the table and joined the lookers-on, of whom I was one. It was a fairly stiff game, and there was enough money changing hands to make it rather exciting, even for those who weren’t playing. As for the four men who were playing, they seemed almost dead to the outside world. Whether they were playing beyond their means, or whether it was simply the excitement of the game that held them spellbound, I didn’t know, but I had watched them for an hour and hadn’t heard one of them utter a word beyond what the game called for. Their faces all showed intense emotion, and one man’s hand shook so that he had hard work to deal. It may not have been the game that caused it, but I thought it was.

“After Captain Foss had been standing by for a few minutes, one of the four, a pale, intellectual-looking man, threw down a losing hand with some show of temper, and exclaimed with an oath, ‘not loud, but deep’: ‘I never did have any luck in a four-handed game.’ And looking around the little group--there were a dozen or more of us--he spied the Captain.

“‘Captain,’ he said, ‘won’t you take a hand?’

“‘Well,’ said Captain Foss, ‘I don’t mind playing a little while if none of the other gentlemen object. I didn’t know you were superstitious, though, Dr. Baisley.’

“The doctor frowned. ‘I guess everybody is who plays cards,’ he replied shortly.

“‘Possibly,’ said Captain Foss; and as the other three signified a welcome to him, he drew up a chair and bought some chips.

“It was a curious thing, and to Dr. Baisley it was, no doubt, ‘confirmation strong as proofs of Holy Writ’ of his superstition, but it is a fact that his luck turned from the moment Captain Foss entered the game. He had been a heavy loser before. I could count up over a thousand dollars in chips that I had seen him lose, and I hadn’t seen all the play. But the turn set the chips rolling back to him so fast that he was soon even and then winner to a considerable amount.

“Of the others, one was evidently a commercial traveler who had got into a heavier game than knights of the road often indulge in. Somehow, he did not seem like a gentleman, and I was not greatly surprised when he lost his temper, for his luck had changed also. He had been the largest winner at first, for the other two won and lost in turn, so that they were not far from even. But as the doctor won, he lost, until at length he pulled out what seemed to be his last hundred-dollar bill and bought another stack of chips.

“These, too, he was losing when the doctor beat his flush with a full. Throwing down his cards, he said, with a nasty sneer: ‘It’s evident that you knew who to invite into the game.’

“There was a hush for a moment. Everybody seemed to be holding his breath. We all looked at Captain Foss, and I don’t think anybody would have been surprised to see him draw a weapon. The insult was a frightful one, and, as I said, the Captain could blaze on occasions.

“He blazed this time. There was no motion toward physical violence, but he glared at the fellow as an angry tiger might have glared, and the veins stood out in uneven knots on his forehead, and his clenched fists quivered in the struggle for self-control. At first he could not speak for rage, but presently he swallowed spasmodically twice, and then broke forth.

“‘If I could lower myself and forget my place so far as to meet such a vile whelp of a hell-hound as you on common ground, I’d cut your ears off and make you eat them along with your words. As it is, damn you--’ And then he went on with such a torrent of profane abuse as I for one never heard before or since. The wretch actually cowered under it like a whipped dog. He tried to speak once or twice, but he might as well have tried to whistle down a whirlwind, and presently realizing his miserable impotence, he shoved the balance of his chips over to the banker, who cashed them, and slunk away to his stateroom.

“Captain Foss sat talking, or raving, whichever it was, till the fellow’s door closed. Then he stopped, and we could see that he was again struggling to control himself. There was another hush, which was presently broken by a young fellow less than twenty years old, who had been listening open-mouthed.

“‘My!’ he exclaimed. ‘But that was fine.’

“This brought a general burst of laughter, in which the Captain himself joined after a few moments, and the strain was over. But I don’t think there was a man there who would not rather have been shot at than to have had such a tongue-lashing.

“The fact of the Captain of a passenger boat playing poker in the cabin when actually in command of her, and in active service, was, I think, what set me thinking, as I said, about his duties and responsibilities. It seemed a strange thing to me then, because it was the first time I ever saw it. But, though the strangeness wore off afterward when I saw other Captains doing the same thing, I never saw Foss play again, though I believe he occasionally did so.

“I noticed, however, every time I traveled with him after that, that he always came into the saloon in the evening and looked at the play that was going on. And on one occasion I got an inkling of his reasons for doing this. It was a part of his regular patrol of the boat, and he was as particular to see that nothing was going wrong at the card table as he was to see that everything was right elsewhere on the boat. Of course, poker itself was not considered wrong. It was part of the regular routine of life. A man could play or not, but a man who would object to anybody else playing would have been as lonesome as a prohibitionist in Kentucky.

“Drinking was common on the river boats. Drunkenness was rare. If there were ladies among the passengers, as commonly there were, drinks were seldom served in the main saloon till after they had retired. Then, if a man wanted a drink while he was playing, one of the darkies would bring it to him.

“On the particular occasion that I speak of a man not over twenty-two or twenty-three years old was playing cards at a table with four older men. He was a bright, handsome fellow, with manly ways and a pleasant manner, who seemed well able to take care of himself even at poker, and who, indeed, held his own fairly well in the first part of the game. The play went on, however, far into the night, and a number of drinks were brought to the table, so that after a time the youngster grew flushed and began playing wild.

“Captain Foss noticed this, as he noticed everything, but did not at once interfere. I observed, however, that he passed in and out several times between the saloon and the deck, and just as I had seen a particularly foolish play made by the youngster I heard the Captain say quietly: ‘Gentlemen, the game will have to be closed for to-night.’