Chapter XVIII

_Gamblers and Gambling_

Volumes have been written, first and last, on the subject of gambling

on the Mississippi. In them a small fraction of truth is diluted with

a deal of fiction. The scene is invariably laid upon a steamboat on

the lower Mississippi. The infatuated planter, who always does duty

as the plucked goose, invariably stakes his faithful body servant, or

a beautiful quadroon girl, against the gambler's pile of gold, and

as invariably loses his stake. Possibly that may occasionally have

happened on the lower river in ante-bellum days. I never travelled

the lower river, and cannot therefore speak from actual observation.

On the upper river, in early times, there were no nabobs travelling

with body servants and pretty quadroons. Most of the travellers

had broad belts around their waists, filled with good honest

twenty-dollar gold pieces. It was these belts which the professional

gamblers sought to lighten. Occasionally they did strike a fool who

thought he knew more about cards than the man who made the game, and

who would, after a generous baiting with mixed drinks, "set in" and

try his fortune. There was, of course, but one result--the belt was

lightened, more or less, according to the temper and judgment of the

victim.

So far as I know, gambling was permitted on all boats. On some,

there was a cautionary sign displayed, stating that gentlemen who

played cards for money did so at their own risk. The professionals

who travelled the river for the purpose of "skinning suckers" were

usually the "gentlemen" who displayed the greatest concern in regard

to the meaning of this caution, and who freely expressed themselves

in the hearing of all to the effect that they seldom played cards at

all, still less for money; but if they did feel inclined to have a

little social game it was not the business of the boat to question

their right to do so, and if they lost their money they certainly

would not call on the boat to restore it.

After the expression of such manly sentiments, it was surprising

if they did not soon find others who shared with them this

independence. In order to convey a merited reproof to "the boat",

for its unwarranted interference with the pleasure or habits of

its patrons, they bought a pack of cards at the bar and "set in"

to a "friendly game". In the posting of this inconspicuous little

placard, "the boat" no doubt absolved itself from all responsibility

in what might, and surely did follow in the "friendly games" sooner

or later started in the forward cabin. Whether the placard likewise

absolved the officers of the boat from all responsibility in the

matter, is a question for the logicians. I cannot recollect that I

had a conscience in those days; and if a "sucker" chose to invest his

money in draw poker rather than in corner lots, it was none of my

business. In that respect, indeed, there was little choice between

"Bill" Mallen on the boat with his marked cards, and Ingenuous Doemly

at Nininger, with his city lots on paper selling at a thousand

dollars each, which to-day, after half a century, are possibly worth

twenty-five dollars an acre as farming land.

Ordinarily, the play was not high on the upper river. The passengers

were not great planters, with sacks of money, and "niggers" on the

side to fall back upon in case of a bluff. The operators, also, were

not so greedy as their real or fictitious fellows of the lower river.

If they could pick up two or three hundred dollars a week by honest

endeavor they were satisfied, and gave thanks accordingly.

Probably by some understanding among themselves, the fraternity

divided themselves among the different boats running regularly in the

passenger trade, and only upon agreement did they change their boats;

nor did they intrude upon the particular hunting ground of others.

The "Fanny Harris" was favored with the presence, more or less

intermittently, of "Bill" Mallen, "Bill" and "Sam" Dove, and "Boney"

Trader. "Boney" was short for Napoleon Bonaparte. These worthies

usually travelled in pairs, the two Dove brothers faithfully and

fraternally standing by each other, while Mallen and "Boney"

campaigned in partnership.

These men were consummate actors. They never came aboard the

boat together, and they never recognized each other until

introduced--generally through the good offices of their intended

victims. In the preliminary stages of the game, they cheerfully lost

large sums of money to each other; and after the hunt was up, one

usually went ashore at Prescott, Hastings, or Stillwater, while the

other continued on to St. Paul. At different times they represented

all sorts and conditions of men--settlers, prospectors, Indian

agents, merchants, lumbermen, and even lumber-jacks; and they always

dressed their part, and talked it, too. To do this required some

education, keen powers of observation, and an all-around knowledge of

men and things. They were gentlemanly at all times--courteous to men

and chivalrous to women. While pretending to drink large quantities

of very strong liquors, they did in fact make away with many pint

measures of quite innocent river water, tinted with the mildest

liquid distillation of burned peaches. A clear head and steady nerves

were prerequisites to success; and when engaged in business, these

men knew that neither one nor the other came by way of "Patsey"

Donnelly's "Choice wines and liquors". They kept their private

bottles of colored water on tap in the bar, and with the uninitiated

passed for heavy drinkers.

The play was generally for light stakes, but it sometimes ran high.

Five dollars ante, and no limit, afforded ample scope for big

play, provided the players had the money and the nerve. The tables

were always surrounded by a crowd of lookers-on, most of whom knew

enough of the game to follow it understandingly. It is possible that

some of the bystanders may have had a good understanding with the

professionals, and have materially assisted them by signs and signals.

The chief reliance of the gamblers, however, lay in the marked

cards with which they played. No pack of cards left the bar until

it had passed through the hands of the gambler who patronized the

particular boat that he "worked". The marking was called "stripping".

This was done by placing the high cards--ace, king, queen, jack,

and ten-spot--between two thin sheets of metal, the edges of which

were very slightly concaved. Both edges of the cards were trimmed to

these edges with a razor; the cards so "stripped" were thus a shade

narrower in the middle than those not operated upon; they were left

full width at each end. The acutely sensitive fingers of the gamblers

could distinguish between the marked and the unmarked cards, while

the other players could detect nothing out of the way in them. "Bill"

Mallen would take a gross of cards from the bar to his stateroom and

spend hours in thus trimming them, after which they were returned

to the original wrappers, which were carefully folded and sealed,

and replaced in the bar for sale. A "new pack" was often called for

by the victim when "luck" ran against him; and Mallen himself would

ostentatiously demand a fresh pack if he lost a hand or two, as he

always did at the beginning of the play.

I never saw any shooting over a game, and but once saw pistols drawn.

That was when the two Doves were holding up a "tenderfoot". There

was a big pile of gold on the table--several hundred dollars in ten

and twenty dollar pieces. The losers raised a row and would have

smashed the two operators but for the soothing influence of a cocked

Derringer in the hands of one of them. The table was upset and the

money rolled in all directions. The outsiders decided where the money

justly belonged, in their opinion, by promptly pocketing all they

could reach while the principals were fighting. I found a twenty

myself the next morning.

I saw "Bill" Mallen for the last time under rather peculiar and

unlooked-for circumstances. It was down in Virginia, in the early

spring of 1865. There was a review of troops near Petersburg,

preparatory to the advance on Lee's lines. General O. B. Wilcox and

General Sam. Harriman had sent for their wives to come down to the

front and witness the display. I was an orderly at headquarters of

the First Brigade, First Division, Ninth Army Corps, and was detailed

to accompany the ladies, who had an ambulance placed at their

disposal. I was mounted, and coming alongside the vehicle began to

instruct the driver where to go to get the best view of the parade.

The fellow, who was quite under the influence of liquor, identified

himself as Mallen, and sought to renew acquaintance with me.

It went against the grain to go back on an old messmate, but the

situation demanded prompt action. "Bill" was ordered to attend

closely to his driving or he would get into the guardhouse, with

the displeasure of the division commander hanging over him, which

would not be a pleasant experience. He knew enough about usages at

the front, at that time, to understand this, and finished his drive

in moody silence. After the review was over he went back to the

corral with his team, and I to headquarters. I never saw or heard

of him again, the stirring incidents of the latter days of March,

1865, eclipsing everything else. I presume he was following the army,

nominally as a mule driver, while he "skinned" the boys at poker as

a matter of business. The whiskey had him down for the time being,

however, otherwise I would have been glad to talk over former times

on the river.