We entered the saloon. The game _voila_!
At one end was the table--the bank. We could see neither bank nor
dealer; both were hidden by the double ring of bettors, who encircled
the table--one line seated, the other standing behind. There were
women, too, mingled in the crowd--seated and standing in every
attitude--gay and beautiful women, decked out in the finery of fashion,
but with a certain _braverie_ of manner that betokened their unfortunate
character.
D'Hauteville had guessed aright--the game was at its height. The look
and attitudes of the betters--their arms constantly in motion, placing
their stakes--the incessant rattling of the ivory cheques, and the
clinking together of dollars--all told that the game was progressing
briskly.
A grand chandelier, suspended above the table, cast its brilliant light
over the play and the players.
Near the middle of the saloon stood a large table, amply furnished with
"refreshments." Cold fowls, ham and tongue, chicken salad, and
lobsters, cut-glass decanters tilled with wine, brandy, and other
liquors, garnished this table. Some of the plates and glasses bore the
traces of having been already used, while others were clean and ready
for anyone who chose to play knife and fork a while. It was, in fact, a
"free lunch," or rather supper--free to any guest who chose to partake
of it. Such is the custom of an American gambling-house.
The rich viands did not tempt either my companion or myself. We passed
the table without halting, and walked directly up to the "bank."
We reached the outer circle, and looked over the shoulders of the
players. "_Shade of Fortuna! Chorley and Hatcher_!"
Yes--there sat the two sharpers, side by side, behind the faro-table--
not as mere bettors, but acting respectively as banker and croupier of
the game! Chorley held the dealing-box in his fingers, while Hatcher
sat upon his right, with cheques, dollars, and bank-notes piled upon the
table in front of him! A glance around the ring of faces showed us the
pork-merchant as well. There sat he in his loose jeans coat and broad
white-hat, talking farmer-like, betting bravely, and altogether a
stranger to both banker and croupier!
My companion and I regarded each other with a look of surprise.
After all, there was nothing to surprise us. A faro bank needs no
charter, no further preliminaries to its establishment than to light up
a table, spread a green baize over it, and commence operations. The
sportsmen were no doubt quite at home here. Their up-river excursion
was only by way of a little variety--an interlude incidental to the
summer. The "season" of New Orleans was now commencing, and they had
just returned in time for it. Therefore there was nothing to be
surprised at, in our finding them where we did.
At first seeing them, however, I felt astonishment, and my companion
seemed to share it. I turned towards him, and was about proposing that
we should leave the room again, when the wandering eye of the pseudo
pork-merchant fell upon me.
"Hilloa, stranger!" he cried out, with an air of astonishment, "you
hyar?"
"I believe so," I replied unconcernedly.
"Wal! wal! I tho't you war lost. Whar did you go, anyhow?" he inquired
in a tone of vulgar familiarity, and loud enough to turn the attention
of all present upon myself and my companion.
"Ay--_whar_ did I go?" I responded, keeping my temper, and concealing
the annoyance I really felt at the fellow's impudence.
"Yes--that's jest what I wanted to know."
"Are you very anxious?" I asked.
"Oh, no--not particklerly so."
"I am glad of that," I responded, "as I don't intend telling you."
With all his swagger I could see that his crest fell a little at the
general burst of laughter that my somewhat _bizarre_ remark had called
forth.
"Come, stranger," he said, in a half-deprecatory, half-spiteful tone,
"you needn't a be so short-horned about it, I guess; I didn't mean no
offence--but you know you left us so suddintly--never mind--'taint no
business o' mine. You're going to take a hand at faro, ain't you?"
"Perhaps."
"Wal, then, it appears a nice game. I'm jest trying it for the first
time myself. It's all chance, I believe--jest like odds and evens. I'm
a winnin' anyhow."
He turned his face to the bank, and appeared to busy himself in
arranging his bets.
A fresh deal had commenced, and the players, drawn off for a moment by
our conversation, became once more engaged in what was of greater
interest to them--the little money-heaps upon the cards.
Of course, both Chorley and Hatcher recognised me; but they had
restricted their recognitions to a friendly nod, and a glance that
plainly said--
"He's here! all right! he'll not go till he has tried to get back his
hundred dollars--he'll have a shy at the bank--no fear but he will."
If such were their thoughts they were, not far astray. My own
reflections were as follows:--
"I may as well risk my money here as elsewhere. A faro bank is a faro
bank all the same. There is no opportunity for cheating, where cards
are thus dealt. The arrangement of the bets precludes every possibility
of such a thing. Where one player loses to the bank, another may win
from it by the very same turn, and this of course checks the dealer from
drawing the cards falsely, even if it were possible for him to do so.
So I may as well play against Messrs. Chorley and Hatcher's bank as any
other--better, indeed; for if I am to win I shall have the satisfaction
of the _revanche_, which those gentlemen owe me. I shall play here
then. Do you advise me, Monsieur?"
Part of the above reflections, and the interrogatory that wound them up,
were addressed in a whisper to the young Creole.
He acknowledged their justice. He advised me to remain. He was of the
opinion I might as well tempt fortune there as go farther.
Enough--I took out a five-dollar gold-piece, and placed it upon the ace.
No notice was taken of this--neither banker nor croupier even turning
their eyes in the direction, of the bet. Such a sum as five dollars
would not decompose the well-practised nerves of these gentlemen--where
sums of ten, twenty, or even fifty times the amount, were constantly
passing to and from their cash-box.
The deal proceeded, Chorley drawing the cards with that air of
imperturbable _sang-froid_ so characteristic of his class.
"Ace wins," cried a voice, as two aces came forth together.
"Pay you in cheques, sir?" asked the croupier.
I assented, and a flat round piece of ivory, of a red colour, with the
figure 5 in its centre, was placed upon my half-eagle. I permitted both
to remain upon the ace. The deal went on, and after a while two aces
came out together, and two more of the red cheques were mine.
I suffered all four pieces, now worth twenty dollars, to lie. I had not
come there to amuse myself. My purpose was very different; and,
impelled by that purpose, I was resolved not to waste time. If Fortune
was to prove favourable to me, her favours were as likely to be mine
soon as late; and when I thought of the real stake for which I was
playing, I could not endure the suspense. No more was I satisfied at
contact with the coarse and bawd company that surrounded the table.
The deal went on--and after some time aces again came out. This time I
lost.
Without a word passing from his lips, the croupier drew in the cheques
and gold-piece, depositing them in his japanned cash-box, I took out my
purse, and tried ten dollars upon the queen, I won. I doubled the bet,
and lost again.
Another ten dollars won--another lost--another and another, and so on,
now winning, now losing, now betting with cheques, now with
gold-pieces--until at length I felt to the bottom of my purse without
encountering a coin!