His Last Sunday Game
HE WAS BETTING ON A JACK-POT WHEN THE YACHT UPSET
“The closest call I ever had,” said the gray-haired young-looking man, “was in a game of poker, and, curiously enough, nobody called in that particular deal in which it occurred. In fact, nobody thought about it after the interruption until it was too late for a showdown and the chips had all disappeared, nobody knew where. It takes a pretty serious happening to destroy all interest in a game of poker just at the moment when somebody has raised the limit in a big jack-pot and each player is confident of winning. But this was a serious happening. It was about the most serious that I ever knew, and came near being a tragedy.
“Perhaps you remember one summer about ten years ago when a succession of tremendous squalls struck the south side of Long Island on four successive Sundays. I think it was just ten years ago.
“We had a club-house, eight or ten of us, that summer, which was located on Hicks’s Beach, on the extreme western end of the Great South Bay, not far from the Long Beach Hotel. It was about as unpretentious as any club-house need be, being only a shanty, but it was weather-proof, and with cots and hammocks we made ourselves thoroughly comfortable when we slept ashore. More often we would sleep on board the little sloop yacht that we had chartered for the summer, for we used to cruise through the entire day, using the club-house as a rendezvous. It was one of the jolliest and most economical seasons I ever enjoyed.
“We all knew something about sailing—I least of all—but the Commodore, as we all called him, was the best amateur sailor I ever knew, so, naturally, we made him skipper, and nobody else assumed or felt any responsibility when he was aboard.
“On this particular Sunday, the fourth in the series of squally Sundays, there were seven of us on the yacht. We had been weakfishing all the forenoon about four miles east of Wreck Lead, and had had fair luck, but it was wretchedly hot, and, tiring of the sport, we had run back nearly to Hicks’s Beach again and come to anchor off the best bathing-ground in the neighborhood, opposite the life-saving station. Then we had a plunge, and after dressing had gone into the cabin. Two of the men had gone to sleep and the rest of us had begun a game of poker. It was the last game I ever played on Sunday. The Commodore had made all snug above, and had come down into the cabin last of all, satisfied that everything was right, as we were not in the channel, and no big boats navigate thereabout anyhow. He was good enough sailor, however, to leave the game occasionally for a moment or two, just to take a look around. But not even he thought it worth while to keep a lookout all the time, for he thought we were as safe as we would have been in a brick house.
“After an hour or so there came a jack-pot, in which there was some of the most remarkable drawing I ever saw. The Broker had opened it on a pair of queens. The Commodore sat next, and, having a pair of sevens, came in. The Doctor had three spades with a queen at the head, and, being a brash player at all times, pushed in his chips. I had been having great luck for a time, and decided to rely on it, so I came in with an ace. And the Lawyer came also, though he had only two little four-spots in his hand. We found out all this long afterward when we were together one night talking over the adventure, and at the same time we learned what the draw was. It seemed so curious to me that I wrote it down, so I speak by the card in telling it. The Doctor was dealing, so I drew the first cards. They were another ace and three eight spots. The Lawyer caught another four and two tens. The Broker got three jacks. The Commodore caught a seven and two nines, and the Doctor got his two coveted spades. A pair of queens was high hand before the draw, and there were four fulls and a flush around the board after it. Such a thing may have happened often, but I never happened to hear of it as happening on any other occasion but this.
“Naturally enough, the betting began furiously, and the chips on the table were all in the pot presently. We were betting money and were, some of us, feeling through our pockets for our rolls, when suddenly the Commodore threw back his head and raised his hand with a sudden gesture that arrested our attention instantly. Dropping his cards, he sprang to his feet and started to rush out on deck, when a lurch of the vessel sent us all sprawling. The squall had struck us. For a moment, while we were scrambling up, we could feel the yacht tugging at her anchor, and then with a sudden drive dash onward somewhere. Whither we could not even guess, being all below, but we afterward found that it was toward the northeast, the squall coming from the south-west. Almost at the moment of the snapping of the cable, for it had snapped, we heard a tremendous crash overhead, and we afterward learned that the lurch of the boat had thrown her stick out of her.
“The sudden drive meant that we were drifting helplessly toward the mud flats on the other side of the channel; but before we could ascertain this—in fact, before any of us could get to the companion-way—the wretched boat turned turtle. I have heard it denied that such a boat could turn turtle under such circumstances, and I don’t pretend to explain how or why it did. All I know is that it did, and it looked as if we had reached our last quarter of an hour.
“The confusion was indescribable. Of course we were immediately standing or scrambling on the ceiling of the little cabin, while everything that had been on the floor fell with us. The water rushed in more than waist deep, and for a few moments it looked as if the little room would fill up completely before we could even think what possibility there was of getting out. Fortunately, however, there was buoyancy enough about the miserable craft, and the cabin was deep enough in the hull, to keep it pretty near the water level, and the air in the room was not immediately displaced. At least that was how I reasoned it out. All that I can say positively is that whereas I expected to be totally submerged I found that I could easily enough keep my head out of water. What air there was in the cabin doubtless helped to keep us afloat, confined as it was, and for a time—it seemed a very long time—we were tossed about, splashed, and thrown down, as the boat rocked and pitched, but we were not drowned.