THE GAME
They made a group not uninteresting as they gathered about the
table in the deck saloon. The youngest of the four received the
deference generally accorded the uniform he wore, and returned the
regard due age and station in the civilian world. For the moment
rid of one annoying question, he was quite his better self, and
added his quota in the preliminary badinage of the game. Across
the table from him sat Judge Henry Clayton of New Madrid, a tall
and slender gentleman with silky white mustaches and imperial,
gentle of speech, kindly of countenance, and with soft, white
hands, whose long fingers now idly raised and let fall some of the
parti-colored tokens of the game.
[Illustration: They made a group not uninteresting.]
At Clayton's side, Dunwody, younger, larger and more powerful, made
something of a contrast. Both these gentlemen had removed their
coats and hung them across the backs of chairs, evidently intending
a serious session. In this procedure the last of the party now
followed suit,--the Honorable William Jones, state senator from
Belmont, Missouri. Seating himself, the latter now in turn began
shuffling a pack between fingers short, puffy, freckled and
experienced. His stooped shoulders thrust forward a beardless
round face, whose permanently arched eyebrows seemed to ask a
continuous question, his short, dark hair receded from a high
forehead, and a thick mid-body betokened alike middle age and easy
living. A planter of the back country, and a politician, his
capital was a certain native shrewdness and little else. Of
course, in company such as this, and at such a day, the
conversation must drift toward the ever fruitful topic of slavery.
"No, sir," began the Honorable William Jones, indulging himself in
the luxury of tobacco as he addressed his companions, "there ain't
no doubt about it. Us Southerners orto take all that new country
west of the Missoury, clean acrost to the Pacific."
The older gentleman smiled at him. "You forget California," said
he. "She is already in, and free by her own vote."
"An' a crime aginst the natural rights of the South! Sir, the
institution of slavery is as old as history. It is as old as the
first settlement of agricultural man upon one piece of ground.
It's as old as the idea of sovereignty itself."
Dunwody gave a sly wink at his neighbor, Judge Clayton. The latter
sank back in his chair resigned. Indeed, he proceeded to
precipitate what he knew was to come.
"Sir, England herself," he assented gravely, "is the oldest of
slavers. The Saxons, of whom we speak as the fathers of freedom,
were the worst slave masters in the world--they sold their very kin
into slavery at times."
The Honorable William Jones was impatient of interruption. "Comin'
to our own side of the sea, gentlemen, what do we find? New
England foremost in the slave trade! New York, ownin' onct more
slaves than Virginny ever did! Georgia was fo'ced to take on slave
labor, although she had tried to do without it. _Every_ race,
_every_ nation, sirs, has accepted the theory of slave labor. What
says Mr. Gibbon in his great work--in his remarkable work, his
treasure house of learnin'--_The Decline and Fall of the Roman
Empire_--if I had my copy here I could put my finger on to the very
place where he says it, sirs. Why, sirs, in the _Decline and
Fall_--I could show you the very line and chapter if I had my copy
here--but it's up in my room--I could show you the very chapter on
slavery, by the Lord Harry! sir, where Mr. Foote, of the state of
Mississippi, in his last speech down in that country, sirs,--"
"Now, now, Jones," Dunwody raised a restraining hand at length,
"just sit down. Don't go get your copy of the _Decline and Fall_.
We're willing to take some of that for granted. Let's get at the
pleasant task of taking away all the money of this Free Soil
gentleman from the North. _Non_ politics, _non_ religion, _sed_
poker! That's why we're here."
The Honorable William Jones, his eloquence thus dammed up, seemed
to experience a sudden restriction of the throat, and coughed once
or twice. "I will go against the said poker just onct," said he;
"but, ahem!"
"I would suggest," said Dunwody, "that before we tempt the gods of
fortune we should first pour a libation for their favor. What do
you say, sir?" He turned to Jones and winked at Clayton.
"No, no, no, sir! No, I thank you just as much, but I never drink
more than onct in a day. At home it varies. On some days I like
my liquor in the mornin', some days just before bedtime, especially
if there is any malary about, as there is in most of my
country--indeed, I think there is some malary in these Ohio bottoms
up here."
"That fact is beyond dispute," ventured Judge Clayton gravely. "In
short, I myself feel in danger as we pass through these heavy
forests."
"Quite so," assented the Honorable William Jones. "Sometimes I
take a drink in the mornin' before breakfast, especially if there
is malary around, as I said; sometimes before dinner, but only one;
or, sometimes right after dinner, like now. Difference among men,
ain't there? Some say it's wrong to drink before breakfast.
Others say one drink then goes farther'n six later in the day. For
me, now, only one drink a day. Unless--that is, of course--unless
there is some very special occasion, such as--"
"Such as that offered by this most malarious country," ventured the
judge gravely.
"Well, yes, since you mention it, on such an occasion as this. But
Tom--" turning to the colored boy, "Make it very light; ver-r-ry
light. Hold on thah, you rascal, not too light!"
The Honorable William Jones set an example in which he was joined
temperately by the judge, the others contenting themselves in
completing their arrangements for the game. The tokens were
distributed, and in accordance with the custom of the time, the
table soon was fairly well covered with money of divers sorts, gold
coin, a lesser amount of silver, bills issued by many and divers
banks in this or that portion of the country.
Silence fell when the game really began. The Honorable William
Jones at first ever and anon threatened to erupt into Roman facts
and figures, but chilly glances made his answer. Half an hour, and
the passing of time was forgot.
At first the cards ran rather severely against the judge, and
rather in favor of the historian, who played "the said poker" with
such thoroughness that presently there appeared before him a ragged
pile of currency and coin. Dunwody and Carlisle were losers, but
finally Dunwody began to edge in upon the accumulated winnings of
his neighbor on the right. An hour passed, two hours, more. The
boat plowed on down-stream. Presently the colored boy began to
light lamps. There came to the faces of all the tense look, the
drawn and lined visage which is concomitant to play for
considerable stakes. A frown came on the florid countenance of the
young officer. The pile of tokens and currency before him lessened
steadily. At last, in fact, he began to show uneasiness. He
thrust a hand into a pocket where supplies seemed to have grown
scarce. There is small mercy in a game of poker hard played, but
at least one of his opponents caught some such signal of distress.
Dunwody looked up from his own last hand.
"Don't leave us just yet, friend," he said. "You may draw on me
for all you like, if you care to continue. We shall see that you
get a ticket back home. No man can ask more than that!"
"I have a thousand acres of cotton land 'n a hunnerd niggers
waitin' for me to git home," said the Honorable William Jones, "an'
by hockey, I raise the ante to twenty dollars right hyer! Are you
all comin' in?"
"I have at least that much left in my locker," answered Judge
Clayton. "What do you say to doubling that?"
"Suit me," said Dunwody briefly; they nodded assent all around, but
the younger man ventured:
"Suppose I sit with you for one jack-pot, gentlemen. The hour is
growing late for me, and I must plead other duties. When a man is
both busy and broke, it is time for him to consider."
"No, no," expostulated the Honorable William Jones, who long since
had forgotten his rule regarding one drink a day. "No, no, not
broke, and not busy! Not at all!"
"I don't know," said Dunwody. "Suppose we make it one more
jack-pot all around?" They agreed to this. It was Judge Clayton's
deal.
"Gimme at least three," began the senator from Belmont, puckering
out his lips in discontent.
"Three good ones," consented the judge. "How many for the rest of
you?"
Dunwody shook his head. "I'll stand as it is, please."
The judge quietly discarded two cards, Carlisle having done the
same. The betting now went about with more than one increase from
the Honorable William Jones, whose eyes apparently were seeing
large. At last the "call" came from Carlisle, who smilingly moved
the bulk of his remaining fortune toward the center of the table.
Thereupon, with a bland and sane smile, the Honorable William Jones
shook his head and folded his cards together. The judge displayed
queens and tens, the gentleman opposite queens and deuces. Dunwody
laid down his own hand, which showed aces and fours. They all
sighed.
"Gentlemen, you all deserve to win," said Dunwody. "I feel like a
thief."
"I have a thousand acres of niggers 'n four hunnerd cotton lands,"
remarked the Honorable William Jones, amiably, "says you can't do
it again. I can prove it from Mr. Gibbon's _'Cline 'n Fall_."
Judge Clayton rose, laughing, slapping Dunwody on the shoulder and
giving an arm to Mr. Jones, whom he assisted to his room.