At sight of De Lara and Calderon, the English officers stand speechless,
as if suddenly struck dumb; for a pang has shot through their hearts,
bitter as poison itself.
Crozier feels it keenest, since it is an affair which most concerns him.
The suitor of Carmen Montijo a "sport"--a common gambler!
Cadwallader is less affected, though he too is annoyed. For although
Calderon is in the circle of outside players--apparently a simple
_punter_, like the rest--the companionship of the morning, with the
relations existing between the two men, tell of their being socially the
same. He already knows his rival to be a blackguard; in all likelihood
he is also a blackleg.
Quick as thought itself, these reflections pass through the minds of the
young Englishmen; though for some time neither says a word--their looks
alone communicating to each other what both bitterly feel.
Fortunately, their surprise is not noted by the players around the
table. Each is engrossed in his own play, and gives but a glance at the
new-comers, whose naval uniforms are not the only ones there.
But there are two who take note of them in a more particular manner:
these, Faustino Calderon and Francisco de Lara. Calderon, looking along
the table--for he is on that same side--regards them with glances
furtive almost timid. Very different is the manner of De Lara. At
sight of Crozier he suspends the deal, his face suddenly turning pale,
while a spark of angry light flashes forth from his eyes. The
passionate display is to all appearance unobserved; or, if so,
attributed to some trifling cause, as annoyance at the game going
against him. It is almost instantly over; and the disturbed features of
the Monte dealer resume their habitual expression of stern placidity.
The English officers having recovered from their first shock of
astonishment, also find restored to them the faculty of speech; and now
exchange thoughts, though not about that which so disturbs them. By a
sort of tacit understanding it is left to another time, Crozier only
saying--
"We'll talk of it when we get aboard ship. That's the place for sailors
to take counsel together, with a clear head, such as we will want. At
this precious minute, I feel like a fish out of water."
"By Jove! so do I."
"The thing we're both thinking of has raised the devil in me. But let
us not bother about it now. I've got something else in my mind. I'm
half-mad, and intend _fighting the tiger_."
"Fighting the tiger! What do you mean by that, Ned? I don't quite
comprehend."
"You soon will. If you wish it, I'll give you a little preliminary
explanation."
"Yes, do. Perhaps I can assist you."
"No, you can't. There's only one who can."
"Who is he?"
"It is not a he, but a she: the Goddess of Fortune. I intend soliciting
her favours; if she but grant them, I'll smash Mr De Lara's Monte
bank."
"Impossible! There's no probability of your being able to do that."
"Not much probability, I admit. Still there's a possibility. I've seen
such a thing done before now. Bold play and big luck combined will do
it. I'm in for the first; whether I have the last, remains to be seen.
In any case, I'll either break the bank, or lose all I've got on me--
which by chance is a pretty big stake to begin with. So here goes!"
Up to this time their conversation has been carried on in a low tone; no
one hearing or caring to listen to it--all being too much absorbed in
their own calculations to take heed of the bets or combinations of
others. If any one gives a glance at them, and sees them engaged in
their _sotto-voce_ dialogue, it is but to suppose they are discussing
which card they had best bet upon--whether the _Sota_ or _Caballo_; and
whether it would be prudent to risk a whole dollar, or limit their lay
to the more modest sum of fifty cents.
They who may have been thus conjecturing, with everybody else, are taken
by surprise, in fact, somewhat startled, when the older of the two
officers, bending across the table, tosses a hundred pound Bank of
England note upon the baize, with as much nonchalance as if it were but
a five-dollar bill!
"Shall I give you cheques for it?" asks the croupier, after examining
the crisp note--current over all the earth--and knowing it good as gold.
"No," answers Crozier; "not yet. You can give that after the bet's
decided--if I win it. If not, you can take the note. I place it on the
Queen, against the Knave."
The croupier, simply nodding assent, places the note as directed.
During the interregnum in which this little episode occurs, the English
officers, hitherto scarce noticed, are broadly stared at, and closely
scrutinised--Crozier becoming the cynosure of every eye. He stands it
with a placid tranquillity, which shows him as careless about what they
may think him, as he is of his cash.
Meanwhile, the cards have had a fresh shuffle, and the deal begins anew;
all eyes again turning upon the game. In earnest expectancy; those who,
like Crozier, have placed upon the Queen, wishing her to show her face
first. And she does.
"_Caballo en la puerta mozo_!" (The Queen in the door wins) cries the
dealer, the words drawled out with evident reluctance, while a flash of
fierce anger is seen scintillating in his eyes.
"Will you take it in cheques?" asks the croupier addressing himself to
Crozier, after settling the smaller bets. "Or shall I pay you in
specie?"
"You needn't pay yet. Let the note lie. Only cover it with a like
amount. I go it double, and again upon the Queen."
Stakes are re-laid--some changed--others left standing or doubled, as
Crozier's, which is now a bet for two hundred pounds.
On goes the game, the piece of smooth pasteboard slipping silently from
the jewelled fingers of the dealer, whose eye is bent upon the cards, as
if he saw through them--or would, if he could. But whatever his wish,
he has no power to change the chances. If he have any professional
tricks, there is no opportunity for him to practise them. There are too
many eyes looking on; too many pistols and bowie-knives about; too many
men ready to stop any attempt at cheating, and punish it, if attempted.
Again he is compelled to call out:
"_Caballo en la puerta mozo_!"
"Now, sir," says the croupier to Crozier, after settling other scores,
"you want your money, I suppose?"
"Not yet. I'm not pressed, and can afford to wait. I again go double,
and am still contented with my Queen."
The dealing proceeds; with four hundred pounds lying on the _Caballo_ to
Crozier's account--and ten times as much belonging to other bettors.
For now that the luck seems to be running with the Englishman, most lay
their stakes beside his.