The Quadroon Part 38

Our adversaries, getting still more nettled at our success, now proposed doubling the stakes. This was agreed to, and another game played.

Again Chorley and I were winners, and the pork-man asked his partner if he 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 s.h.i.+n-plasters," as Chorley euphoniously expressed it.

The stakes were again doubled, and possibly would have increased in the same ratio again and again had I not made a positive objection. I remembered the amount of cash I carried in my pocket, and knew that at such 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 amount we continued the play.

It was well we had not gone higher, for from this time fortune seemed to desert us. We lost almost every time, and at the rate of ten dollars a game. I felt my purse grow sensibly lighter. I was in a fair way of being "cleared out."

My partner, hitherto so cool, seemed to lose patience, at intervals anathematising the cards, and wis.h.i.+ng he had never consented to a game of "nasty whist." Whether it was this excitement that caused it I could not tell, but certainly he played badly--much worse than at the beginning. Several times he flung down his cards without thought or caution. It seemed as if his temper, ruffled at our repeated losses, rendered him careless, and even reckless, about the result. I was the more surprised at this, as but an hour before at Euchre I had seen him lose sums of double the amount apparently with the utmost indifference.

We had not bad luck neither. Each hand our cards were good; and several times I felt certain we should have won, had my partner played his hand more skilfully. As it was, we continued to lose, until I felt satisfied that nearly half of my money was in the pockets of Hatcher and the pork-dealer.

No doubt the whole of it would soon have found its way into the same receptacles, had not our game been suddenly, and somewhat mysteriously, interrupted.

Some loud words were heard--apparently from the lower deck--followed by a double report, as of two pistols discharged in rapid succession, and the moment after a voice called out, "Great G.o.d! 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 took aft, others forward, all crying out "Who is it?" "Where is he?" "Who fired?" "Is he killed?" and a dozen like interrogatories, interrupted at intervals by the screams of the ladies in their cabins. The alarm of the "woman overboard" was nothing to this new scene of excitement and confusion. But what was most mysterious was the fact that no killed or wounded individual could be found, nor any one who had either fired a pistol or had seen one fired! no man had been shot, nor had any man shot him!

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 round into all the dark corners of the boat, but neither dead nor wounded, nor trace of blood, could be discovered; and at length men broke out in laughter, and stated their belief that the "hul thing was a hoax." So declared the dealer in hog-meat, who seemed rather gratified that he no longer stood alone as a contriver of false alarms.

CHAPTER FORTY NINE.

THE SPORTSMEN OF THE MISSISSIPPI.

Before things had reached this point, I had gained an explanation of the mysterious alarm. I alone knew it, along with the individual who had caused it.

On hearing the shots, I had run forward under the front awning, and stood looking over the guards. I was looking down upon the boiler-deck--for it appeared to me that the loud words that preceded the reports had issued thence, though I also thought that the shots had been fired at some point nearer.

Most of the people had gone out by the side entrances, and were standing over the gangways, so that I was alone in the darkness, or nearly so.

I had not been many seconds in this situation, when some one glided alongside of me, and touched me on the arm. I turned and inquired who it was, and what was wanted. A voice answered me in French--

"A friend, Monsieur, who wishes to do you a service."

"Ha, that voice! It was you, then, who called out--"

"It was."

"And--"

"I who fired the shots--precisely."

"There is no one killed, then?"

"Not that I know of. My pistol was pointed to the sky--besides it was loaded blank."

"I'm glad of that, Monsieur; but for what purpose, may I ask, have you--"

"Simply to do _you_ a service, as I have said."

"But how do you contemplate serving me by firing off pistols, and frightening the pa.s.sengers of the boat out of their senses?"

"Oh! as to that, there's no harm done. They'll soon got over their little alarm. I wanted to speak with you alone. I could think of no other device to separate you from your new acquaintances. The firing of my pistol was only a _ruse_ to effect that purpose. It has succeeded, you perceive."

"Ha! Monsieur, it was you then who whispered the word in my ear as I sat down to play?"

"Yes; have I not prophesied truly?"

"So far you have. It was you who stood opposite me in the corner of the saloon?"

"It was I."

Let me explain these two last interrogatories. As I was about consenting to the game of whist, some one plucked my sleeve, and whispered in French--

"Don't play, Monsieur; you are certain to lose."

I turned in the direction of the speaker, and saw a young man just leaving my side; but was not certain whether it was he who had given this prudent counsel. As is known, I did not heed it.

Again, while engaged in the game, I noticed this same young man standing in front of me, but in a distant and somewhat dark corner of the saloon.

Notwithstanding the darkness, I saw that his eyes were bent upon me, as I played. This fact would have drawn my attention of itself, but there was also an expression in the face that at once fixed my interest; and, each time, while the cards were being dealt, I took the opportunity to turn my eyes upon this strange individual.

He was a slender youth, under the medium height, and apparently scarce twenty years of age, but a melancholy tone that pervaded his countenance made him look a little older. His features were small, but finely chiselled--the nose and lips resembling more those of a woman. His cheek was almost colourless, and dark silky hair fell in profuse curls over his neck and shoulders; for such at that time was the Creole fas.h.i.+on. I felt certain the youth was a Creole, partly from his French cast of countenance, partly from the fas.h.i.+on and material of his dress, and partly because he spoke French--for I was under the impression it was he who had spoken to me. His costume was altogether of Creole fas.h.i.+on. He wore a blouse of brown linen--not after the mode of that famous garment as known in France--but as the Creole "hunting-s.h.i.+rt,"

with plaited body and gracefully-gathered skirt. Its material, moreover,--the fine unbleached linen,--showed that the style was one of choice, not a mere necessary covering. His pantaloons were of the finest sky-blue _cottonade_--the produce of the looms of Opelousas.

They were plaited very full below the waist, and open at the bottoms with rows of b.u.t.tons to close them around the ankles when occasion required. There was no vest. Its place was supplied by ample frills of cambric lace, that puffed out over the breast. The _chaussure_ consisted of gaiter-bootees of drab lasting-cloth, tipped with patent leather, and fastened over the front with a silk lace. A broad-brimmed Panama hat completed the dress, and gave the finis.h.i.+ng touch to this truly Southern costume.

There was nothing _outre_ about either the s.h.i.+rt, the pantaloons, the head-dress, or foot-gear. All were in keeping--all were in a style that at that period was the _mode_ upon the lower Mississippi. It was not, therefore, the dress of this youth that had arrested my attention. I had been in the habit of seeing such, every day. It could not be that.

No--the dress had nothing to do with the interest which he had excited.

Perhaps my regarding him as the author of the brief counsel that had been uttered in my ear had a little to do with it--but not all.

Independent of that, there was something in the face itself that forcibly attracted my regard--so forcibly that I began to ponder whether I had ever seen it before. If there had been a better light, I might have resolved the doubt, but he stood in shadow, and I could not get a fair view of him.

It was just about this time that I missed him from his station in the corner of the saloon, and a minute or two later were heard the shouts and shots from without.

"And now, Monsieur, may I inquire why you wish to speak to me, and what you have to say?"

I was beginning to feel annoyed at the interference of this young fellow. A man does not relish being suddenly pulled up from a game of whist; and not a bit the more that he has been losing at it.

"Why I wish to speak to you is, because I feel an interest in you. What I have to say you shall hear."

"An interest in me! And pray, Sir, to what am I indebted for this interest?"

"Is it not enough that you are a stranger likely to be plundered of your purse?--a _green-horn_--"

"How, Monsieur?"