CHAPTER VIII.

THE "LITTLE JOKER."

There rode a charming little sailing vessel in Guaymas Port. It flew

the Chilian flag, was about a hundred and twenty tons register, and was

named _La Burlonilla_, or "Little Joker," which might be interpreted

innocently, or as a tacit allusion to the pea used in "thimblerig."

She was so coquettish, so fine of run, so light and buoyant, and

yet carried a good spread of sail, that the experienced Gladsden

reckoned she would do her twelve knots an hour without shipping enough

water to drown the purser's cat. But there seemed to be some mystery

attending the ownership. The shipkeeper allowed no one to inspect her

closely, far less to board her, even threatening our Englishman with

a blunderbuss. He heard at the Heaven-and-Liberty Tavern that she

was consigned to don Stefano Garcia, kinsman of the general Garcia,

mixed up with the intrigues of Santa Anna, a rich merchant-banker, and

hide dealer. It was easy to make his acquaintance by constituting him

his banker, for a remittance of a goodly amount which came on, _via_

New York and Mexico, just when he most wanted funds to enable him to

ascertain what truth dwelt in Pepillo's story.

Besides, as an old resident of Sonora, he was just the man to help him

to find the relict of the _bandolero_ of captain Matasiete, though the

reason for this search he took care not to impart to señor Garcia.

With an affability which was even noticeably extreme, don Stefano

accepted the double trust, and begged his new client to come out to his

villa soon and dine with him--a pleasant habitude with bankers all the

world over.

Gladsden accepted the invitation. During the dinner--not bad for the

place--the guest learnt that the goleta commanded a fancy price, say,

twenty thousand dollars, and then would only be sold--not hired--if the

owner, a capricious Chilian, rejoicing in the numerous and sonorous

appellatives of don Aníbal Cristobal de Luna y Almagro de Cortes, had

not changed his intention of living upland on an estate which would

shortly become his through a marital alliance.

After the repast, five or six friends of the host came in, and among

them the bearer of the long titles, just taxing our pen again.

In token of pretensions to be regarded as an unofficial, but all the

more important representative of Chili, this dignitary wore a rich

costume trimmed with gold, an immense cocked hat, after the style

borne by Nelson's enemies who were admirals at Trafalgar, bullion

epaulettes that covered his upper arms, high boots coming up over

the knee, not to mention a colossal sabre. Under this accoutrement,

nevertheless, Gladsden thought no stranger was displayed; and, in

fact, before he spoke, he recognised the individual who had grinned

at him, like Quasimodo at Claude Frollo, dangling from the cathedral

turret, out of the gaplike window of the Indian tower. The master of

the _Little Joker_, the Chilian agent, was the captain of the Upper

Sonora ravagers--Matasiete himself. The crease across his nose was an

additional token.

Spite of his emotion, the Englishman hoped he had not betrayed the

act of quick identification, all the more as don Aníbal, etc., making

no sign of recognition, turned to chatting with the others without

paying the foreigner any more heed. From a glance which he intercepted

between the banker and the pretended Chilian, Gladsden was soon of

the impression that there was a complete understanding there. He even

jumped to the conclusion that the stranger in the Heaven-and-Liberty

Tavern had been instructed to volunteer the hint that had caused our

ever imprudent Briton to form acquaintance with the robber's banker.

"They are a deeper set than I imagined," thought he. "The rogue is a

pirate on land and sea. When there is no revolution in Mexico, and the

authorities attend a little to police matters, our salteador takes a

summersault aboard his dainty craft, and goes slaving, pirating, or, at

the least, pearl fishing. If these guests are out of the same cask, by

George! I am going to pass a pleasant evening!"

But there arose no question of the sale of the _Burlonilla_, or of

anything connected with business. That was put off till the morrow,

after the Spanish-American custom.

But there did come up a topic of general interest--gaming. The

American-Hispanics are inveterate gamblers; it is their dominant

passion. After having chatted and drank, amid the consumption of

innumerable cigars, someone proposed a _monte_, a suggestion thrown out

only to be caught at a bound with enthusiasm.

Other friends of don Stefano had dropped in, so that the Englishman

found more than a corporal's guard arrayed against him. The collection

now was composed of upwards of a score.

A table happened to have the orthodox green cloth upon it, where the

social "tiger" is prone to roam: new cards, sealed, of course, were

brought in, and the sport began.

Without being positively a player, Mr. Gladsden had the blood in his

veins of his grandfather, who was a noted card player, a contemporary

of Fox and Selwyn. Besides, he understood that he might offend if he

stood aloof.

The stakes were, at the outset, moderate, but gradually swelling, they

soon attained staggering proportions, some of the points running up

to a hundred and even a hundred and fifty ounces. The consequence was

that in less than a couple of hours almost all the tilters were cleaned

out, and had to become mere lookers-on. At midnight chance--if it were

chance--arranged it that only two players were facing each other: don

Aníbal of the Cortes Family, as he called himself at present, and Mr.

Gladsden. The gallery, as the surrounding bystanders of a game are

styled, cooped the pair in so that the European could not easily have

withdrawn. All the time the master of the goleta had been a loser, and

the Englishman having been luck favoured, was on the contrary supplied

with considerable funds, which elicited many a covetous glance.

"Why!" ejaculated the pretended Chilian, with admirably feigned

surprise, "We two are left facing one another."

"So we are!" returned Mr. Gladsden, thinking, with all the possible

mischances, he was more agreeably placed here _vis-à-vis_ with the

gentleman of the night, than clinging on a bar outside the top of a

tower fifty feet high.

"Shall we two go it alone, Captain?"

"I was just going to ask the favour, Captain."

The other "captain" nodded and grinned under his long hook nose, to the

banker and others at hand, as much as to say, "Now I have my gentleman

precisely in the corner I have been driving him to."

It was the Englishman's turn to cut.

"How's the play?" he inquired.

"Will you venture all?" the highwayman leader returned in a mocking way.

"Why should I not? You have so far afforded me so much hearty

entertainment that I am entirely at your disposal."

Don Aníbal made a grimace not unlike that when the marvellous shot had

allowed the last speaker to drop out of the swing of his _navaja_.

"Even in case I risk the whole heap?" resumed Matasiete, laying his

long fingers out on the pillar of gold coin before him.

"As your lordship desires, though it is a mistake."

"How so?"

"Because I am in luck's way lately," returned Mr. Gladsden,

significantly. "You always lose pitted against me."

"Do you really think that run will last?"

"I am willing to wager on it," was the reply, in the determined tone of

an Englishman to whom, indeed, a bet is the _ultima ratio_.

"_¡Caray!_" exclaimed the arch-bandit, piqued, "Your remark decides me,

all goes on the _dos de espadas_, two of spades. Is it a go?"

The Spanish-Americans are fine players, they lose or gain ever so large

sums without wincing. As the spectators uttered a cry of admiration for

him who was more or less their lion, Gladsden resolved to prove that he

could gamble as well as the best of them.

"Señor Don Aníbal, you'll excuse the rest," he said, impudently, like a

man who pretty well knew that he had not a friend in the crowd, as he

presented his adversary, in all senses of the word, with the cards; "do

you mind shuffling them yourself?"

"What for, Señor?" holding his hands away.

"Oh, it is not merely because I believe you _good at shuffling_, but

because things are getting serious, and it is important after all that

has taken place between us that you should be convinced that I play

fair, and that nothing but my better fortune thwarts you."

Don Stefano turned pale; several of the guests whispered to one

another, probably seeing that twenty to one on a ground of their

own choosing was rather contrary to the character of a blue-blooded

caballero. One of them even lifted up his voice, saying:

"He acts like a perfect gentleman."

Gladsden bowed to him, though he fully believed he recognised in him

the suggester on a memorable occasion that the author of the death of

the late Pepillo Santa Maria should be roasted alive.

Captain de Luna also bowed, but to his opponent, took the cards,

shuffled them, and presented them with grace. Gladsden laid the cards

on the board, and turning to no one in particular, said:

"Do me the honour to cut them, Señor."

Someone obeyed the request, and the English player began to deal. A

deathlike stillness reigned at once as by enchantment in the drawing

room so well peopled. Spite of their villainy, the spectators of the

coolness of the Englishman alone in the tiger's lair were impressed by

it in his favour, and, though the most of them, such as appertained

directly to Matasiete's band, at least, would have fallen on him

without reluctance on the road back to Guaymas, here they registered

a vow to let him have a good show of fun for his money without

interference.

Don Aníbal had staked on the two of spades; the other sought to produce

the five of clubs (_cinco de Bastos_) to win; in other words, that card

ought to come out of the pack to him before his adversary received the

one he called to appear. But after quite twenty of the parallelograms

of pasteboard had been thrown on the table one after another, neither

of the two cards designated had appeared; but everyone felt they were

on the nick.

At the moment when Gladsden was about to show the face of a card

between his fingers, the captain of banditti, and of the so-called

Chilian cutter, checked his action, saying--

"Stay half a minute, please."

"What's your pleasure?"

"Perhaps to give you one. Did not I hear don Stefano say something

about your looking out to buy a pleasure vessel?"

"I even thought that I might make a yacht of--"

"Of the goleta in the port, of the _Burlonilla_--of my vessel?"

"There is no other worth a biscuit, certainly! Why the question now?"

inquired the European with some surprise.

"I tell you what; if you will consent, I will add the _Little Joker_,

all standing, to my pile, against twenty-five thousand dollars. What do

you say to that proposition?"