especially as he seemed so far from having suspected
that there was anything improper in his proposition.
So I hastened to console him and lead him on to forget his
mishap in a conversational orgy about cattle and butchery.
We were lying at Acapulco; and, as we went on deck, it happened
luckily that the crew were just beginning to hoist some beeves
aboard in slings. Backus’s melancholy vanished instantly,
and with it the memory of his late mistake.
‘Now only look at that!’ cried he; ‘My goodness, Triangle, what WOULD they say
to it in OHIO. Wouldn’t their eyes bug out, to see ’em handled like that?–
wouldn’t they, though?’
All the passengers were on deck to look–even the gamblers–
and Backus knew them all, and had afflicted them all with his pet topic.
As I moved away, I saw one of the gamblers approach and accost him;
then another of them; then the third. I halted; waited; watched;
the conversation continued between the four men; it grew earnest;
Backus drew gradually away; the gamblers followed, and kept at his elbow.
I was uncomfortable. However, as they passed me presently, I heard
Backus say, with a tone of persecuted annoyance–
‘But it ain’t any use, gentlemen; I tell you again, as I’ve
told you a half a dozen times before, I warn’t raised to it,
and I ain’t a-going to resk it.’
I felt relieved. ‘His level head will be his sufficient protection,’
I said to myself.
During the fortnight’s run from Acapulco to San Francisco I
several times saw the gamblers talking earnestly with Backus,
and once I threw out a gentle warning to him. He chuckled
comfortably and said–
‘Oh, yes! they tag around after me considerable–want me to play
a little, just for amusement, they say–but laws-a-me, if my folks
have told me once to look out for that sort of live-stock, they’ve
told me a thousand times, I reckon.’
By-and-bye, in due course, we were approaching San Francisco.
It was an ugly black night, with a strong wind blowing, but there
was not much sea. I was on deck, alone. Toward ten I started below.
A figure issued from the gamblers’ den, and disappeared in the darkness.
I experienced a shock, for I was sure it was Backus.
I flew down the companion-way, looked about for him, could not
find him, then returned to the deck just in time to catch a glimpse
of him as he re-entered that confounded nest of rascality.
Had he yielded at last? I feared it. What had he gone below for?–
His bag of coin? Possibly. I drew near the door, full of bodings.
It was a-crack, and I glanced in and saw a sight that made
me bitterly wish I had given my attention to saving my poor
cattle-friend, instead of reading and dreaming my foolish time away.
He was gambling. Worse still, he was being plied with champagne,
and was already showing some effect from it. He praised the ‘cider,’
as he called it, and said now that he had got a taste of it
he almost believed he would drink it if it was spirits, it was
so good and so ahead of anything he had ever run across before.
Surreptitious smiles, at this, passed from one rascal to another,
and they filled all the glasses, and whilst Backus honestly drained
his to the bottom they pretended to do the same, but threw the wine
over their shoulders.
I could not bear the scene, so I wandered forward and tried
to interest myself in the sea and the voices of the wind.
But no, my uneasy spirit kept dragging me back at
quarter-hour intervals; and always I saw Backus drinking his wine–
fairly and squarely, and the others throwing theirs away.
It was the painfullest night I ever spent.
The only hope I had was that we might reach our anchorage
with speed–that would break up the game. I helped the ship
along all I could with my prayers. At last we went booming
through the Golden Gate, and my pulses leaped for joy.
I hurried back to that door and glanced in. Alas, there was
small room for hope–Backus’s eyes were heavy and bloodshot,