“Come on, doctor,” cried he, “our cards, our cards!”
CHAPTER IV
THE CURSE OF NENEK KABAYAN
“He’ll steal no more of my Old Jamaica,” exulted Briggs, flinging himself into a chair by the table. “And that sniveling boy will give me no more of his infernal lip! Skunks!” He picked up the bottle, still containing a little rum, and poured a gulp of liquor down his throat. “On my own ship!”
“Where are the cards, sir?” asked Filhiol. His voice, quivering, was hardly audible.
“Petty game,” burst out the captain, “no good. Make it a real one, and I’ll go you!”
“What do you mean, sir?”
“Stakes worth playin’ for! Man-size stakes! You got money in Boston, sir. Some fifteen thousand. I’ll play you for that, plus your wages this voyage!”