XVI.
HOW FRANK LOST HIS WATCH.
Play again he did accordingly; and, sure enough, he won. He broughtTucket to his last dime. The poetical and philosophic spirit in whichthat good-humored young man contemplated his losses, was worthy of abetter cause.
"'Fare thee well, and, if forever, still forever fare thee well,'" heremarked, staking the said dime. And when it was lost,--for Frank "rakedthe pile,"--he added, pathetically, going from Byron to Burns, "'Farethee weel, thou brightest, fairest; fare thee weel, thou last anddearest! Had we never loved sae kindly, had we never loved sae blindly,never met, or never parted, I had ne'er been broken-hearted.' Boys, I'mdead broke, and must quit off, without some of you that are flush willlend me a quarter."
"Ask Frank," said Ellis; "he's the flushest."
So Frank lent Seth a quarter, and with that quarter Seth won back all hismoney, and, in the course of two more sittings, cleaned Frank out, as thephrase is.
Then, one would say, Frank had a valid excuse to retire, if not before.He had risked his money, and lost it. Certainly nothing more could beexpected of him. Seth grinned, and Jack Winch rubbed his hands withdelight.
But now _Frank_ was not content. His heart was gnawed by chagrin. Hehad not really wished to stop playing at all; for the sense of vacancyand craving which always, in such natures, succeeds the cessation ofunhealthy excitement, is misery enough in itself. But to have left offwith as much money in his pocket as he began with, would have beenfelicity, compared with the bitter consciousness of folly, the stingingvexation and regret, which came with his misfortunes.
"I'll lend ye, if ye like," said the good-natured Seth--perhaps in returnfor the similar favor he had received; or rather because he pitied theboy, and meant to let him win back his money; for, with all his mischiefand drollery, this Tucket was one of the most generous and kind-heartedof Frank's friends.
The offer was gladly accepted; and Frank, praying Fortune to favor him,made a promise in his heart, that, if she would aid him to recover hislosses, he would then bid farewell forever to the enticing game.
But the capricious goddess does not answer prayers. On the contrary, shedelights to side with those who need her least, spurning away thesupplicants at her feet.
Frank borrowed a quarter, and lost it immediately. He borrowed again,determined to play more carefully. He waited until he had an excellenthand, then staked his money.
Tucket and Ellis did not play; and the game was between Frank and Harris.Both were confident, and they kept doubling their stakes, Frank borrowingagain and again of Seth for the purpose. He held four kings, thestrongest hand but one in the game. He knew Harris's style of playing toowell to be much daunted by his audacity, not believing that he held thatone stronger hand than his.
"I'll lend ye as long as ye call for more," said Seth; "only, seeingyou've borrowed already more'n I've won of ye, s'posin' ye give me somesecurity?"
"I've nothing to give," said Frank.
"There's your watch," suggested Winch, who had had a glimpse of Joe'scards. And at the same time he winked significantly, giving Frank tounderstand that his antagonist had not a hand of very great strength.
Thus encouraged, sure of victory, and too much beside himself to considerthe sacred nature of the object he was placing in pawn, Frank handed overhis watch to Seth, and received from him loan after loan, until he waseight dollars in his debt. Seth did not like to advance any more thanthat on the watch. So the critical moment arrived. Frank, with flushedface and trembling hands, placed his all upon the board. Then Harris,showing his cards, with a smile, swept the pile towards his cap.
"Let me see!" cried Frank, incredulous, staying his arm until he could besure of the cards.
His flushed face turned white; his hand fell upon the bench as ifsuddenly palsied.
"Two pairs of aces! that's what I call luck, Joe," said Winch, scarceable to restrain his joyous chuckling.
Frank looked up at him with wild distress and kindling fury in his face.
"It was you, Jack Winch! You made me----"
"Made you what?" said John, insolently.
What, indeed? He had by looks, which spoke as plainly as words, assuredFrank that Harris held but an indifferent hand; whereas he held the bestthe pack afforded. By that falsehood,--for, with looks and actions atyour command, it is not necessary to open your mouth in order to tell themost downright, absolute lie,--he had induced Frank to play on boldly tohis own ruin.
But was he alone to blame? Even if he had told the truth about Joe'shand, ought Frank to have been influenced by it? He had no right to thatknowledge, and to take advantage of it was dishonest.
No doubt Frank himself thought so, now he reflected upon it. To accuseJack was to confess his own disingenuousness. He was by nature as fairand open as the day; he despised a base deception; and it was only as aninevitable consequence of such wrong doings as lead directly tofaithlessness and duplicity, that he could ever become guilty of theseimmoralities.
Such is the vice of gambling--a process by which men hope to obtain theirneighbors' goods without yielding an equivalent for them; and which,therefore, inflames covetousness, and accustoms the mind to thecontemplation of unjust gains, until it is ready to resort to any unjustmeans of securing them. Do you say there are honest gamblers? The term isa contradiction. You might, with equal consistency, talk of truthfulliars. To get your money, or any thing else, without rendering anequitable return, is the core of all dishonesty, whether in the gamester,the pickpocket, the man who cheats in trade, or the boy who robsorchards. And a conscience once debauched by dishonest aims, will not, asI said, long scruple at unfair means.
Singularly enough, Frank was more abashed by the betrayal of the unfairmeans he had attempted to use, than he had yet been by any consciousnessof the immorality of the practice which led to them. He could not say toWinch, "You told me I was sure of winning, and so deceived me." He onlylooked at him a moment, with wild distress and exasperation on his face,which quickly changed to an expression of morose and bitter despair; anddropping his head, and putting up his hands, he burst into irrepressiblesobs.
"My watch! my watch that was given to me--" and which he had soignominiously gambled away. No wonder he wept. No wonder he shook fromhead to foot with the passion of grief, as the conviction of his ownfolly and infatuation burned like intolerable fire in his soul.
"Dry up, baby!" said Jack, through his teeth. "There comes the captain."
Baby? Poor Frank! It was because he was not altogether given over torecklessness and vice that he cried at the thought of his lost watch, andof his gross ingratitude to the unknown giver. Still he felt that it wasweak in him to cry. He who risks his property in order to get possessionof another's should be philosopher enough to take with equanimity theloss of his own.
"Don't be childish, Frank; don't be silly!" said his friends.
And, indeed, he had the strongest reason for suppressing his sobs.Captain Edney was approaching. He was the last person to whom he wouldhave wished to betray his guilt and misfortune. He loved and respectedhim; and we fear most the disapprobation of those we love and respect.Moreover, through him the heart-breaking intelligence of her son's evilcourses might reach Mrs. Manly. But no doubt Frank's chief motive forconcealing the cause of his grief from Captain Edney was the suspicion hestill entertained, notwithstanding that officer's professed ignorance ofthe entire matter, that he was in reality the secret donor of the watch.So he choked back his sobs, and pretended to be assorting some pebbles,which the boys used as counters, especially when certain officers werepassing, who would have reproved them if they had seen money on theboard. And Captain Edney, whether he suspected any thing wrong, or not,walked on; and that restraint upon Frank's feelings was removed.
But having once controlled the outburst, he did not suffer them to getthe better of him again. With a look of silent and sullen despair, he gotup, and went to his bunk, and threw himself upon it, and, t
urning hisface to the wall, refused to be comforted.
It was the wooden wall of the ship's timbers--the same he had looked atin sickness, in storms at sea, by day, and at night by the dim light ofthe swinging ship's lanterns; and when he lay calmly at rest, in the palmof God, amid the convulsions and dangers of the deep, and when, in thetediousness of long, dull days of waiting, he had lain there, and solacedhimself with sweet thoughts of home.
But never had the ribbed ship's side appeared to him as now. And yet itwas the same; but he was not the same. He was no longer the bright,hopeful, happy boy as before, but miserable, guilty, broken-hearted. Andas we are, so is the world to us; the most familiar objects changingtheir aspect with every change in the soul. Does the sunshine, which wasbright yesterday, look cold to-day? and is the sweet singing of birdssuddenly become as a mockery to the ear? and the faces of friends, lateso pleasant to see, have they grown strange and reproachful? and is life,before so full of hope, turned sour, and vapid, and bitter? O, my friend,I pity you; but the change, which you probably think is in the world, isonly in yourself.
"The parson seems to have fallen from grace," said John Winch,sarcastically.
"Hold your tongue!" said Atwater, sternly. "You are all more to blamethan he is. Of course, a boy of his age will do what he sees older onesdo. It's a shame to get his money and watch away from him so."
And the honest fellow went and sat by Frank, and tried to console him.
"Go away! go away!" said Frank, in his anguish. "Don't trouble yourselfabout such a miserable fool as I am. I deserve it all. Let me be!"
Atwater, who was sadly deficient in what is called the gift of gab, hadno soothing words at his command, full as his heart was of compassion.And after sitting some time by the unhappy boy, patting him softly on theshoulder, he arose, and went away; concluding that his absence would be arelief to one so utterly miserable.
Then Seth Tucket came, and took his place.
"That's always the way with bad luck, I swan," he said, sympathizingly."Misfortunes always come in heaps. It never rains but it pours."
"I wish you'd let me alone!" said the boy, peevishly.
"That's fair, I swan!" said Seth. "But le' me tell ye. Ef I hed won thewatch, I'd give it back to ye in a minute. But Harris is the winner, andI've only the watch now to show for my money. But here's a half dollar tobegin again with. You know what luck is at cards,--how it shifts, nowthis way, now that, like a cow's tail in fly-time,--and I hain't theleast doubt but with that half dollar you'll win back all your money, andyour watch too."
The offer was kindly meant; and it encouraged a little spark of comfortin Frank's heart. To win back his losses--that was his only hope. He tookthe money, silently pressing Seth's hand. After that he struggled toforget his grief in thoughts of his former good fortune, which hebelieved would now return to him.
The Drummer Boy Page 17
