‘Let me tell yew, mister, yew’d be riddled, yew would, like any catamount treed, ef yew played thet sorter game in Georgia, whar I war raised, yew would,’ suddenly exclaimed one of the card-players, whose nasal drawl would of itself have revealed his nationality. ‘Thet’s three times I’ve seen yew try to pass the king.’ ‘Don’t cry afore you ’re hurt,’ retorted his adversary, whose air and tone were those of a sailor, and whose muscular wrists, emerging from shirt-cuffs linked by heavy sleeve-buttons of silver, were ornamented by mermaids and anchors and true-lovers’ knots in blue tattooing of the true salt-water pattern. ‘Guess this child wasn’t born last week, shipmate! Haven’t I sported the pasteboard at New York with Dead Rabbits; at New Orleans with Plug-uglies; and in California with fellows that stuck the points of their bowies in the table afore they set to a hand at poker! You’re a nice hand to tax a man with cheating, you, with two court cards up your sleeve now!’ The American, who was spare and lightly built, compared with the opposite player, scowled as he thrust his bony right hand into an inner pocket of the loose coat which he alone of all the occupants of the balcony wore. It may have been for the concealment of the cards alluded to; it may have been to get a grasp of some hidden weapon. The latter was the supposition that the most commended itself to the other gamester. ‘Shew your hand, Sam Barks!’ he said roughly, grasping a Dutch bottle, probably containing Schiedam, which stood in company with two glasses on the table, ‘or I’—— ‘Belay there, you brace of babies!’ interrupted the copper-visaged captain, thrusting his flashing telescope and his metallic face betwixt the disputants. ‘Dog don’t eat dog, my mates! I always was agin play between friends.—Sam, my lad, you won’t make much out of Captain Hold.—Dick, my Trojan, you’ll not find the American quite as green as spinach. Draw your stakes, my heroes, and let’s shake hands and have a drink all round, for the renewal of friendship!’ And this singular specimen of a peacemaker flourished his glass, swallowed its contents, and rattled the teaspoon against its sides until this substitute for a bell attracted the notice of a watchful attendant, wearing a striped cotton jacket, such as cabin-boys in hot latitudes affect. ‘Three grogs, steward, and a goodish squeeze of lemon in mine, d’ye hear?’ called out he of the copper countenance; and the dark-skinned mulatto lad who was called ‘steward,’ as factotums in _The Traveller’s Rest_ were called Deputy, nodded his woolly head, and was not long in bringing the desired refreshment. The kettle must have been kept always boiling, even on hot August mornings, at Plugger’s, so ready was the supply of steaming spirits and water.