Читать книгу Dangerous Dilemmas: Startling but True - James Anderson Peddie - Страница 4

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The gambling tables at Spa— Compulsory mud bath—Saving one's life by exchanging an overcoat—A fortunate shipwreck.

"You are in a vein of luck and yet cease to play," said the Dutch banker Oppenheim to me over my shoulder at the roulette table at Spa.

Since that bright autumn day both Germany and Belgium have seen the evil results attending public gambling when practised by weak-minded individuals, and have banished the too fascinating game to Monaco, to the great delight of the prince of the smallest kingdom in Europe.

Man, being a speculative animal by nature, finding trente et quarante and roulette forbidden by a paternal government, has had recourse to écarté and baccarat, and instead of playing at the kursaal in the sight of everybody he now stakes his money in the seclusion of a club. The facilities for gambling are more numerous than of yore, but you cannot always depend upon the fairness of your opponents' game, nor on realising your winnings. At the public tables there could be no cheating, and when you won you could rely on getting your money.

The bankruptcies and suicides accruing from the gambling mania have not diminished, but they are now attributed to other causes. A man does not care to bespatter the Turkey carpet of the club house with his brains, and a severe loss or a grand coup made at a club is not usually the subject of a newspaper paragraph. When a Garcia broke the bank at Baden Baden the fact was commented on by the whole European press. A public gambling table is to some people's thinking an outlet for the over speculative and a check against folly, but what is the use of discussing the question, has not the fatal decree gone forth, and the clink of the ivory ball and the "faites le jeu" of the impassable croupier are no longer to be heard in the richly decorated halls of the kursaal at Spa. But at the time the above remark was made roulette and trente et quarante were in the heyday of their dangerous career.

"You are in a vein of luck and yet cease to play," the Baron repeated.

"I don't care to waste my mornings at the tables," I replied.

"Superior attractions elsewhere?"

"No, not what you mean; the bright sunshine lures me out of doors for one thing, and you know I never play long in the morning."

"Why?"

"Because it would be making a toil of a pleasure. I enjoy my days in the open air and speculate in earnest in the evening."

"Perhaps you are wise. At my time of life men are only too willing to profit by the smiles of the fickle goddess, come they at any hour of the day or night; they have had too much occasion to fear her frowns."

"They are no doubt right, and I am wrong to neglect my chance, but in the morning I only venture a little to test the fallacy of the last new system, and if possible to win enough money to cover the day's expenses."

"Praiseworthy objects both, and if you are satisfied, what say you to get our horses and have dejeuner at the restaurant in the wood. We will find ortolans there, and the trout are quite equal to those of your Loch Leven."

"Delighted," was my answer, and in a few minutes we were cantering gaily along the heights above Spa.

Before reaching the charmingly situated restaurant we met with an accident which nearly cost my companion his life.

When least expected how often in our progress through life do we suddenly come face to face with a grave difficulty which the most acute of intellects would have failed to foresee. Here's an illustration of what I mean. To shorten our journey by about half a mile the Baron and I left the main road and struck into the forest. The shade from the trees was fully appreciated after the heat and dust. There were numerous glades of surpassing loveliness, and we had but little difficulty in finding a path for our horses. We had enjoyed the agreeable change for some time when the question arose whether we had not lost our way. It turned out that neither of us knew anything about the intricate windings of the forest. The scenery was certainly very pretty, but the wealth of the variegated foliage only gladdened the eye, and the trout in the streams wanted catching and cooking; we were two hungry men in search of something to eat. Our watches told us that we had been nearly an hour endeavouring to reach our destination, which by the longest route would not have occupied more than half the time. We had undoubtedly lost our reckoning, and were making for some unknown region. A philosopher, partial to offering words of advice in season would write here, "beware of short cuts."

We altered our course and rode to the left instead of the right, and coming to a large open space we set our horses going to make up for the mistake. The open space was beautiful to look at, but proved as treacherous as a lovely but deceitful woman. This simile is not mine—the fair sex has no more devoted champion than myself—it was suggested to me by Wormald, who has just returned from India to go through the Divorce Court. Before we had ridden many yards we found ourselves in the middle of a morass, and—pleasant sensations—horses and riders felt themselves gradually sinking out of sight. Shouting for help seemed useless in such a solitude, and our escape evidently depended on our own exertions.

The Baron was a heavy man and weighed quite sixteen stone in the saddle. He was mounted on a stout black cob about fifteen hands, which was making extraordinary exertions to get out of the mire, but the horses' floundering only made matters worse. My steed, a light-made thoroughbred mare, standing 15—2, having only to carry about ten stone, did not sink so deeply as the Baron's cob, and after a desperate scramble we managed to retrace our steps and regain sound ground. My trouble over, I fastened my muddy horse to a tree and hastened to see what I could do for my companion. His position had become very serious. The cob was lying on his side and had got the Baron under him.

"I cannot move," he called out; "this brute will be the death of me," and from all appearances what he said was not unlikely to happen.

I could see nothing of him except his head, and only the back and head of his horse were visible. I tried to enter the morass at a more favourable place, but I could not advance any distance before I sank up to the middle in nasty sticky slime. It was terribly annoying not to be able to render any assistance to the drowning man. At the critical moment when the Baron's head was disappearing from my sight I shouted as hard as I could "If you don't make a tremendous effort, Baron, you are a lost man; get free from your horse somehow; kick him."

My advice was not given a moment too soon. An opportune blow separated horse and rider, and benefited both.

The Baron waded with difficulty to a tree growing in the middle of the bog, and some friendly charcoal burners arriving on the scene we got a supply of ropes and soon pulled the Baron and his cob out of the quagmire. Having washed and dried our clothes the best way we could, we did not look quite so presentable as when we started, but felt none the worse, and guided by a native we were not long in reaching the welcome shelter of the restaurant, where we found that our appetites had not suffered from our compulsory mud bath.

"That was a novel experience," remarked the Baron as we sipped our Moulin à Vent? on the verandah of the restaurant.

"More novel than agreeable," I replied, "it looked all up with you, and I began to think of your heirs."

"Ah, they little imagine how near they were to handling my money. Do you know that my senses were fast leaving me?"

"Really, and did the dark deeds of your life pass in gloomy procession before you?"

"No, it was rather pleasant than otherwise, I felt like going to sleep; your shout woke me up to my great danger. If I had been alone I would have certainly been a dead man."

"A nice predicament I would have been in if I had returned to Spa by myself; they might have thought that I was interested in your death, and put me on trial for murder."

"You would have been considerably inconvenienced, and if not arrested, you would have found yourself under police surveillance."

"Whatever the result of the trial, my enemies would have maintained to the end of my days that I had done for you, and I might have had to leave England and change my name."

"You are exaggerating now," replied the Baron smiling. "Let us rejoice that we both escaped and are free from these undesirable complications. Only twice in my life have I been so near death."

"Indeed! Are the particulars interesting? If not of a private nature, I should like to hear them."

"There is no reason now, whatever there may have been, why I should not satisfy your curiosity. The narration will not occupy much time."

"Early in life I was sent to Java to look after the branch of our Rotterdam banking house. On one occasion it was my duty to visit a gentleman who resided a short distance from town, for the purpose of collecting a large sum of money. Whether this fact got abroad I know not, but one thing is certain, that I was followed to my friend's plantation by two sinister-looking individuals, who seemed to be very much interested in my movements. When I saw the men dogging my steps I regretted that I had chosen to walk. The planter would have gladly lent me a horse, but I could frame no valid excuse for asking the favour. I did not feel inclined to be thought a coward. At the plantation I met an acquaintance who was engaged to one of the proprietor's daughters, and I made sure he would return to town with me, and that consequently my money would be quite safe. Contrary to my expectations, the lover was not ready to join me when I started, and I went back alone. It was getting dark and I kept a good look out, but I reached my house without molestation, and I came to the conclusion that my suspicions had been groundless. Early next day, however, I was horrified to hear that the acquaintance I had left at the planter's, making love to his sweetheart, had, on returning to town later in the evening been brutally stabbed to death, and robbed of everything of value. Before leaving the plantation I had taken the precaution, without saying a word to anybody, to change my light overcoat for a dark one hanging close beside it. It seems that the murdered man had been unfortunate enough to put on my coat. The exchange of garments no doubt saved my life."

"It was a lucky thought," I said; "they meant robbing you."

"Yes, and the idea only entered my mind at the moment of departure, when I saw the two coats together."

"Fate was kind to you, but it was a near thing; you mentioned that you were in deadly peril on another occasion."

"That was on the return journey to Europe. You have heard I daresay that the voyage is both long and dangerous. On board with me I had the head of our firm and his eldest daughter, but as I was only a cashier at the time they kept me at a distance. In the midst of a terrific storm our ship got out of her course and was driven on to some rocks close to an uninhabited island. The captain told us that the vessel was doomed, that nothing could save her, and that we must shift for ourselves. The boats that were not smashed when we struck were seized by the sailors. I was a good swimmer and saw that I would not have much difficulty in reaching the shore, but what was to become of the feeble old banker and his helpless daughter? In the hour of trial they looked for me to do something for them. But what was I to do? I could save one of them, I thought, but which? There was no time for deliberation. Scarcely half an hour elapsed before the vessel broke in two and we were thrown into the water. The poor banker made a heartrending appeal to me to save him. 'Oh, haste, I am drowning,' he cried, and on seeing me hesitate between him and his struggling daughter he added, 'Come to me, I have another daughter.' I put a piece of the wreck in the young lady's hands and assured her I would soon return. The banker was much exhausted when I reached him, and in the strong surf we were as nearly as possible drowned, but after repeated efforts I at last managed to drag him up to a place of safety."

"And the daughter you saved; she became your wife?"

"Not so, alas! When I went back for her she had disappeared."

"Is that all, Baron?"

"Not quite. The banker was grateful; I was made a partner in the firm and received the other daughter in marriage."

"You do come out of difficulties with flying colours. It would I suppose have made a great difference to you if you had saved the young lady instead of her father?"

"Immense; that was the turning point of my life; the poor girl who perished was betrothed to her cousin, so you see she could not have rewarded me with her hand."

"Lucky Baron!"

"It is true fortune has not been unkind to me, but I believe some such accidents occur to everyone and that they make or mar the future."

These striking narratives made a lasting impression on me, and first put into my head the thought that a collection of such dilemmas would not be uninteresting. Much experience of men and cities has forced me to the same conclusion as the Baron—viz., that at various periods of his life man holds his destiny, so to speak, in the hollow of his hand, and by his conduct at these critical moments his future prosperity or adversity is assured. The proofs of this theory are now before you. When my last witness has spoken I hope you—the jury—will at least admit that I have not been negligent in hunting up my evidence.