“Crown and anchor.”

“The army doesn’t allow that game. What about Bagger and the others?” Frederick asked.

“If they catch us, they’ll probably ask to play. Give me your pen and handkerchief.”

With some hesitance, Frederick passed George both items.

George drew a long rectangle on the cloth.

Frederick groaned. “I’ll never get that out.”

“Settle down, Eton,” George said, drawing another long line to divide the rectangle in half and then three vertical lines to separate the rectangle into six even sections. “It’s not like you don’t have a half dozen more in your kit bag.”

“Wait. You looked through my bag?”

“That’s not the point, Eton. The point is you can spare one.” George then passed the handkerchief and pen to Charlie. “Mouse, I need you to draw the symbols on the dice in the squares.”

Charlie picked up one of the dice. Crudely carved symbols marked each side. A heart, a club, a diamond, a spade, a crown, and an anchor. He copied one into each of the squares on the handkerchief and handed it back to George.

“Perfect,” George said. “Do any of you know how to play?”

The boys shook their heads.

“Not even you, Eton?”

“No.”

“What do they teach you in that fancy school of yours?” George asked.

“Not illegal dice games.”

“Well, they should. It could save your life.” He held up his left hand and wiggled his fingers. “If it weren’t for crown and anchor, I’d be five fingers shy of a handshake.”

“Crown and anchor saved your fingers?” Frederick asked, unable to hide the skepticism in his voice.

“Sure did. After I’d escaped my job at the factory, I wandered down to the docks and talked my way into a game one of the managers was running out of his warehouse. The first few rounds didn’t go my way, and unfortunately, I’d exaggerated by a smidge how much money I had on me.”

“How much did you say you had?” Charlie asked.

“Five pounds.”

“Five pounds!” Thomas asked. “How much did you actually have?”

“Four pence.”

Thomas laughed. “You thought you could bluff your way into a game with dockworkers with four pence?”

“I did bluff my way into a game with dockworkers with four pence. My plan was to win enough that they’d never discover my lie, but my first few wagers didn’t go well, and when the man running the table learned I couldn’t settle my bets, he threatened to take my hand to teach me a lesson.”

“How’d you get out of it?” Charlie asked.

“Convinced him to let me play one more round, double or nothing.”

“You bet both your hands?” Thomas asked.

George glanced over at him. “I had nothing left to lose.”

“You had your hands to lose,” Frederick pointed out.

“But I didn’t lose, did I? Walked away with all ten fingers and ten crowns that night. Played so well, the owner gave me work and let me sleep in his warehouse. Crown and anchor kept me from starving for a few months. So you see, Eton, crown and anchor could save your hand or life someday, so pay attention.” He then explained the rules and declared he would be the banker and toss the dice for each round of play. The boys bet on each toss by placing coins on the symbols Charlie had drawn. As they played, they talked about everything—from what they thought the older crew members’ real names were to which nurses at the ADS were the prettiest.